The cost of preserving Nepal’s past

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Turkish Airlines has received the World Class award by the Airline Passenger Experience Association (APEX) for the fifth consecutive year. The flag carrier of Türkiye was also recognised for the second consecutive year as Best in Class in the World Class Sustainability category and this year received the newly introduced Best in Class in the World Class Food &amp; Beverage Executions category.

World Class Turkish

Buddha Air is restarting Kathmandu-Kolkata flights on 19 October on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays on ATR-72s departing Kathmandu at 7am and returning from Kolkata at 9:20am. One-way fare is Rs13,353. &nbsp;

Buddha to Kolkata

Aloft Kathmandu Thamel was awarded Nepal’s Leading Hotel 2025 at the World Travel Awards Asia &amp; Oceania Gala, held in Hong Kong which has recognised outstanding achievement in travel, tourism and hospitality since 1993. “This achievement reflects the tireless commitment of our team to deliver unparalleled guest experiences,” said Aloft GM Vikram Singh.

Aloft on top

The past, the present, and the future are really one: they are today. -Harriet Beecher Stowe  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122609120_5c63a3201a7231b9334f98a3a1af867acfc1264e29fc3081810a565a270bde6f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122609120_5c63a3201a7231b9334f98a3a1af867acfc1264e29fc3081810a565a270bde6f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="2700" loading="lazy" alt="Miss Moti #1241"> </figure>

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

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

Between Dasain rites and Tihar lights, the 21st edition of Surya Nepal Jazzmandu ended with a hearty deusi jam session at The Malla Hotel on Wednesday. The festival began last week with a concert for a lively young crowd at St Xavier’s School. Across town, the first bassline dropped at Jazz Upstairs with an impromptu ensemble as dusk fell over the city.&nbsp; Over the intervening days, Jazzmanduites faced a delightful dilemma of choosing between a lineup of intimate venues, each sending waves of music across the valley.&nbsp; “Because of the unrest, audiences from all over the world were inquiring and waiting for Jazzmandu,” said Navin Chettri, drummer of Cadenza Collective and co-founder of Jazzmandu. “The fact that they came was a testament to the power of music, and spoke of Nepal’s resilience.” German artist Leona Berlin’s R&amp;B was the one to watch, while cymbals echoed during the Swiss quartet mohs. set with Nu Jazz and neo-soul. The enthralling and soulful ragas from Jonisha Poudel rose over Patan’s brick courtyard as the sax joined in celebration. “Jazz was born from struggle and social unrest – and what emerged was something beautiful. In times like these, that spirit is something we can all aspire to,” said Jason Amirhadji, a first-time visitor to Nepal. Femke Smit and Mike Del Ferro from the Netherlands infused the air with the colourful, flowing spirit of Brazilian music. With Smit’s voice and Del Ferro on the piano, the audience was swaying to the music.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101044_387ec0041807e1fb237094607394533a0f0f940e297c56abf994cd3657ba9b06.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251017101044_387ec0041807e1fb237094607394533a0f0f940e297c56abf994cd3657ba9b06" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025 NT 1"> <figcaption>Nick Aggs. Photo: LOCHAN GYAWALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101044_5178d79872a2495b486e3933f19e29ea3ab2538ae3ce50ca6f7117b73646f5a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251017101044_5178d79872a2495b486e3933f19e29ea3ab2538ae3ce50ca6f7117b73646f5a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Femke Smit"> <figcaption>Femke Smit. Photo: ADITYA KHARE</figcaption> </figure>  “This is a synthesis between Nepali folk music and international jazz,” explained flautist Roshan Putwar before hopping on stage to play a soulful set. Putwar has researched Dāphā music and performed across the world. For the past weeks, the city’s pulse has been political: streets echoing with demands for change, there are still aftershocks of the upheaval that left the city weary and voices raw. And in the evenings, jazz acts too resonated with a quiet defiance. Musicians bent notes in response to the disquiet, and the audience imbibed it with eyes closed. “It takes great courage to come to Nepal after what happened and with the artists’ support we are able to revive unity and healing through music,” says festival co-organiser Samir Chettri, bassist of Cadenza Collective. “Music heals, and this festival brought positivity and peace among all.” The Cadenza Collective shared the stage with Australian saxophonist and composer Nick Aggs, a Brisbane native and member of the fusion group Afro Dizzi Act in a mix called Afrodenza.&nbsp; “It’s a privilege to play with musicians all over the world, especially with Cadenza because I’ve known the boys since 1999,” said Aggs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101048_944c4fb4be1d7d33cb7979ae57ccbb084d9eafffc4a48fa8690802049dcdf74a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251017101048_944c4fb4be1d7d33cb7979ae57ccbb084d9eafffc4a48fa8690802049dcdf74a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101048_a903986ea8a49881f5d94c05a23141db4800e11d6121afb0ece354feabb9bf9c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251017101048_a903986ea8a49881f5d94c05a23141db4800e11d6121afb0ece354feabb9bf9c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025"> </figure>  On Saturday, musicians and fans gathered for an open-sky Jazz Bazaar at Gokarna Forest Resort. Brazilian singer and composer Catia Werneck’s quartet got the audience on its feet to their bossa nova and samba tunes. “It’s the highest music festival in the world,” Werneck beamed. Every solo, every exchange between tabla and drums, sounded the amalgamation of east and the west here at the heart of Nepal. On Tuesday, the audience clapped and danced as a mix of artists performed songs like ‘Blues Selo’ and ‘Shiva’s Dance’, at Yalamaya Kendra in Patan. There were jazz fans who came to Kathmandu just for the music, like Namrata Raju from India. She said: “This was our second Jazzmandu. The artists were thoughtfully curated. There were people from all over the world, and the festival sets an example of music, peace and cultural appreciation”&nbsp; Chethana Salian from Oman agreed: “This is my first time at Jazzmandu, and what a fabulous way to let your hair down with some foot-tapping music. Added a bunch of the artists to my morning playlist, especially Cadenza Collective.” &nbsp; Cadenza’s Navin Chhetri sipped his beer, satisfied at the success of the festival: “Jazzmandu is becoming a tourism draw for musicians and audiences alike.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101052_b4d1d7ff25f9c97c06f34916c6555a1ce5ccf415d3e7610d9ae6402e477b7bfe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017101052_b4d1d7ff25f9c97c06f34916c6555a1ce5ccf415d3e7610d9ae6402e477b7bfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025"> </figure>  The Samundra band representing Nepal’s Gandharva community opened the finale with rousing Tihar songs played on sarangi, flute and madal. Joelle Loretan from Switzerland, another first-timer in Nepal, spoke of the positivity of Nepalis: “The people here are so welcoming and in good spirits despite what they have been through.” &nbsp;

The healing power of music

In early 20th century, Prime Minister Chandra Shamsher Rana wanted to build a railway from the Indian border north towards Kathmandu to reduce the costs of transporting food and other supplies.&nbsp; It would also facilitate travel of thousands of Hindu pilgrims from India, who had to walk up to five days to reach Kathmandu to celebrate Shivaratri and other religious festivals. The plan was to bring a railway up to Dhursing, where a ropeway to Kathmandu had just been constructed. This would avoid the need to carry supplies on the backs of porters from Birganj to Bhimphedi then over Chandragiri Pass to the Valley. However, the costs of building a railway to Dhursing were found excessive because of the steep grades trains would encounter north of Amlekhganj.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_ffac8f6a5b41d2727ae92690ccced8da5d2684cc88d933c75b9c90f555956757.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025100404100_ffac8f6a5b41d2727ae92690ccced8da5d2684cc88d933c75b9c90f555956757" data-rendition-name="original" width="1554" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Mahabir, a unique Garratt locomotive, built in Manchester, England in 1932. Collection: RICHARD PELHAM</figcaption> </figure>  A Calcutta firm Martin &amp; Company surveyed and built the Nepal Government Railway (NGR) in one year at a cost of approximately 1.1 million Indian rupees. The 30 lb narrow-gauge rails, 2’ 6” apart, extended 29 miles from Raxaul, India to Birganj, Parwanipur, Jitpur, Simara and Amlekhganj. Prime Minister Chandra, his wife, other Rana officials, and King Tribhuvan attended the dedication ceremony in Raxaul on 16 February 1927. It was only the second time in history a Nepal king had stepped foot on foreign soil. The NGR began service with two steam locomotives, 4-6-0 tanks (indicating wheel arrangements) built in Leeds, England in 1926. They were given the auspicious names of Pashupati and Guhyeshwari. As traffic increased, the NGR later purchased Goraknath (in 1928), Mahabir, Krishna, Sita-Ram, and lastly Sri Bishnu (in 1949).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_864b56ea45c837a9b4110bccb2df09a0011b2e2ad20202b3f9d9316d2b4fdce5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025100404100_864b56ea45c837a9b4110bccb2df09a0011b2e2ad20202b3f9d9316d2b4fdce5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1523" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Gorarkhnath on a bridge north of Birganj in 1958. Photo: DEREK CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  Railway engines embodied a religious-cultural significance besides their secular importance as mechanisms of transportation. These engines later ran on the Janakpur Railway as well. A British citizen, W S Pedrick was the NGR’s chief officer from 1927 to 1941. Tek Jung Thapa then became NGR general manager until 1959, when Kulbir Singh KC replaced him. Devendra Singh KC took over in 1963. A Bengali, Radha Charan Bhattarchaya, lived in Birganj and worked as an accountant and auditor for the NGR for 25 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404104_1d7e97674ebac55bf3634ce9e44fc3af617b1bac9cb7fc818278329f44bf7e62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025100404104_1d7e97674ebac55bf3634ce9e44fc3af617b1bac9cb7fc818278329f44bf7e62" data-rendition-name="original" width="1051" height="1297" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Sardar Tek JungThapa, the Nepal Government Railway (NGR) general manager for many years. Photo: ANIL JUNG THAPA</figcaption> </figure>  The opening of the Tribhuvan Rajpath and the advent of air cargo services in the late 1950s took traffic away from the NGR. During 1956-57, the NGR carried 255,000 passengers and 60,000 tons of freight and made an estimated profit of 800,000 Indian rupees. By 1963-64, the railway transported only 66,450 passengers, 30,070 tons of goods and for the first time in its history operated at a loss of 151,000 rupees. Passenger service ended in June 1965, and all freight trains were suspended on 13 April 1968. A sporadic 5km 'freight shuttle service' between Birganj and Raxaul continued until the late 1980s.&nbsp; The NGR played an important role in Nepal’s commercial life. During 1937-38, the top four products imported into Nepal by value were cloth, iron, yarn, and cigarettes. Since Kathmandu was the largest market for imports, many of those and other products were loaded on NGR freight cars at Raxaul and transported to Amlekhganj, then by lorry to Dhursing, finally by ropeway to Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_e3157ef1cd2ce312902d40178aa9d35cab1b9b23dfc0d0f37e77ce59b3df756d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025100404100_e3157ef1cd2ce312902d40178aa9d35cab1b9b23dfc0d0f37e77ce59b3df756d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1619" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Sita-Ram at Amlekhganj in 1958. Photo: DEREK CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  Passenger traffic also was impressive. During World War II, the NGR did a booming business transporting Nepal Army troops to India for garrison duty and services abroad. For example, 6,000 soldiers from two Nepali brigades rode the NGR during March 1940. At the end of the war, Maharaja Juddha Shamsher stated that Nepal had sent 148,500 troops to India at British request. Many of those men rode the NGR on their return to Nepal in 1945. A 1936 document in Nepal’s National Archives shows the NGR had nearly 170 employees that year. Annual salaries for those in the General Department ranged from 1,200 Indian rupees (a medical officer) to nine sweepers at 102 rupees. In the Traffic Department, five station managers each received 384 rupees, while four trolley men got 132 rupees. The Engineering Department supervisor’s salary was 1,800 rupees, while eight guards were paid 120 rupees each. Locomotive drivers took home 300 rupees, firemen 204 rupees. The Ranas had outlawed unions, but with regime change in 1951, railway workers went on strike and submitted a list of demands to the government for higher salaries, more sick leave, free housing, and establishment of a provident fund. Nepali Congress Minister Bhadra Kali Mishra met with railway representatives and made promises, but workers were not satisfied and continued their protests throughout the 1950s, actions that Nepal’s Communist Party enthusiastically endorsed. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004031056_ef965e3369c8947dddd53fc69986ceff8ea0ae037474252e4ff3d2623df70fe8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251004031056_ef965e3369c8947dddd53fc69986ceff8ea0ae037474252e4ff3d2623df70fe8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1733" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway"> <figcaption>Mahabir with a freight train leaving Raxaul in 1964. Photo: FRITZ LEHMAN</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;In his book Prachin Sansmaran, Ram Mani Dixit tells how he and a party of Nepali officials and soldiers were entrusted with 1,530 boxes of Indian currency worth nine million rupees to deliver to the Calcutta mint in 1939. A special NGR train left Amlekhganj with the treasure, but being heavily overloaded, the train rapidly gained speed, and Dixit and the party became alarmed and began crying “Narayan, Narayan” in fear. The driver lost control, the train derailed, soldiers were thrown from the wagons, and silver coins were scattered in the jungle. Dixit and his colleagues managed to escape through the coach windows with only bumps and bruises. The NGR repeatedly faced several problems in operating its trains. Its engines could run on wood, but coal was the preferred fuel, and coal supplies from India sometimes were interrupted.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404104_1b5c40eb721f6d1c019764a7208ef93883374261f3823bf82606ca0599a12546.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025100404104_1b5c40eb721f6d1c019764a7208ef93883374261f3823bf82606ca0599a12546" data-rendition-name="original" width="1548" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Gorarkhnath taking water at Simara. Photo: DEREL CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  By the 1940s, spare parts for its locomotives were hard to obtain from England, and its 30 lb. rails could not support heavier equipment that would allow more efficient and less costly operations. While mechanics with only on-the-job training performed heroically to keep broken-down equipment repaired and in service, regular maintenance was neglected, and the Ranas took no steps to invest the amounts needed to modernise the railway. Nor did matters improve with the advent of democracy in 1951. Nepal’s First Five-Year Plan (1956-1961) for the transportation sector focused its attention and provided funds for building roads and airports. In Nepal’s transportation family, railways were the sano bhai, even the sautini bhai. However, the NGR was not forgotten, and several studies were conducted from 1952 to 1971 to consider what should and could be done with the NGR. A report by Indian railway officials in 1952 described the alternatives: rehabilitate the NGR at minimal cost; rehabilitate it as a permanent measure; convert the line to a metre-gauge railway, extend the existing narrow-gauge line from Amlekhganj to Hetauda after rehabilitating the entire system; or construct a new metre-gauge line to Hetauda.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_16b15ff70330db854836323a6827b53ceec5cbc14691748f7cdf61b9dd767e22.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2025100404100_16b15ff70330db854836323a6827b53ceec5cbc14691748f7cdf61b9dd767e22" data-rendition-name="original" width="1525" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Gorakhnath heading toward Birganj. Children around the world are fascinated by the sight and sound of steam locomotives. Photo: DAVID CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal adopted the last and most expensive alternative, but all that was accomplished was a survey of a new line to Hetauda. There were no efforts to implement the ambitious project or to secure the necessary funding. As the NGR rapidly deteriorated after 1956, newspaper stories and editorials rallied to support the railway and criticised government inaction. A 1959 article claimed that 'ill-feeling and disunity are prevalent among railway employees, and this has resulted in inefficient service causing anxiety and inconveniences for passengers. Local people who know the inside stories of the Railway are afraid to make a journey even up to one station.' In 1964, another paper wrote: 'The Nepal Government Railway is no more than a heap of scrap iron. The number of passengers is negligible. The Government has become completely indifferent towards the condition of the railway.'  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004031056_c27b470a52bf8f66d7d56fef8bcbf1e3d74d997c5fd66d7e9e3085f322e7de92.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251004031056_c27b470a52bf8f66d7d56fef8bcbf1e3d74d997c5fd66d7e9e3085f322e7de92" data-rendition-name="original" width="1519" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Shri Bishnu under repair at Birganj. Photo: JOHN BENSON</figcaption> </figure>  Another article charged: 'The NGR has reached a stage of total ruination… Employees never receive their salaries in time… The train starts with ticketless passengers. No government authority ever inspects this wretched transport [system]... It is painful to note that we cannot improve the condition of such a small railway. We appeal to the Government…to improve the condition of this railway.' A 1965 World Bank study of Nepal’s transportation needs provided the coup de grace. It recommended the NGR be abandoned, as the cost of rehabilitation was excessive and did not solve the problem of incompatible track gauges at Raxaul, which necessitated transferring by hand freight from India Railway’s metre-gauge wagons to NGR’s narrow-gauge wagons. Nevertheless, Indian technicians completed surveys and submitted reports to Nepal in 1967 for rehabilitating the NGR, but by then the situation was hopeless: the railway was losing 300,000 rupees a year. Yet a few government officials continued to advocate for broad gauging the then-defunct NGR and extending it to Hetauda.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_9c70a2962fba05a9dbf239efd539adb42663070594bcc014bf84c9f2d1a05329.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025100404100_9c70a2962fba05a9dbf239efd539adb42663070594bcc014bf84c9f2d1a05329" data-rendition-name="original" width="1504" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>The former NGR station at Amlekhganj in 2017. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  Again, Indian engineers conducted a survey for such a 52-mile broad-gauge, electric line in 1971 and submitted a reportto the government. They estimated the project would cost at least $200 million plus $60 million more for rolling stock. India’s Railway Ministry promptly concluded it was not a viable project, and the report died in Nepal’s byzantine bureaucracy. It seems some dreams never die, and hope springs eternal. In April 2018, the prime ministers of India and Nepal met in New Delhi and agreed to build an electric rail line from Raxaul to Kathmandu and that India would conduct the studies and pay the full costs of construction. That was seven years ago. No rails have yet been laid. Costs continue to escalate, and no guaranteed funding has been secured. Will we ever see electric broad-gauge trains arriving in Kathmandu? Certainly not in this author’s lifetime, but then he is no longer a young man. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read aoslo: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepal-s-five-little-railways">Nepal’s five little railways</a>, Dan Edwards Dan Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. This is the second instalment in a new limited series in Nepali Times on the historic transportation infrastructures of Nepal.

Life and times of Nepal Government Railway

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The<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof"> flood on the Bhote Kosi</a> on Tuesday morning was a timely reminder about the risks Himalayan communities face from melting permafrost and glaciers, as well as the need for transboundary early warning. In the spring of 2024, I visited the Kanchenjunga Conservation Area (KCA) again. While in the village of Kampuchen (4,145) I visited Nupu Sherpa, friend and owner of the Kampuchen White House Lodge, to share <a href="https://tc.copernicus.org/articles/18/711/2024/">a new paper we had just published</a> about a massive ice-debris avalanche that had occurred in 2022 in the upper Nupchu valley. Although Nupu was interested in the results and implications of the avalanche, he was even more concerned about the recent and rapid development of several large, pro-glacial lakes upon the terminus of the Kanchenjunga glacier, an hour walk north of Kampuchen and across the seasonal yak pasture of Ramdang Kharka (4,375m).&nbsp; Like many high altitude, low gradient glaciers in the Himalaya, those in the Kanchenjunga region had shrunk to mere shadows of their former selves during the previous 125 years, leaving behind debris-covered remnant ice and small meltwater ponds.&nbsp; Nupu’s fear was that the lakes might soon coalesce to form a large and potentially dangerous glacial lake. Given a large enough trigger, such as a massive landslide or avalanche, a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF) could result that could damage Kampuchen, Ghunsa, Phale, the Kangchenjunga Base Camp trail, and even beyond to the lower Tamor into India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071204070_31e28d1fd0f5a976ad96fc5597cc386586d7de5b7d9714835d5b479104209fed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025071204070_31e28d1fd0f5a976ad96fc5597cc386586d7de5b7d9714835d5b479104209fed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1635" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>The Kanchenjunga Conservation Area (KCA), eastern Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Since I was on my way to the village of Lhonak (4,792m) I stopped to take a look at the new lakes. Sure enough, from a lookout point on the lateral moraine of the Kanchenjunga Glacier I could see as many as ten newly formed and growing meltwater ponds upon the terminal moraine region of the glacier.&nbsp; The prospect was reminiscent of early satellite images taken of Imja Glacier in 1962 by the French, showing a number of meltwater ponds that within 15 years had grown and merged into a glacial lake half a square kilometer in size and containing 45 million cubic meters of water. Ten years after that Imja had grown to more than a square kilometer in size, was at least 120 m deep, and contained an estimated, and growing, 90 million cubic meters of water. Would the same scenario play out for the lower Kanchenjunga Glacier? To try and understand the situation better, glaciologist Sonam Wangchuk of ICIMOD put together a time series composite of lake development over time, from 2016 to 2024, where it was clear that the majority of the new lakes had only formed since 2019.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071204078_c65a5ec574a251489c502f3efdf842033e0d238fd57947f7eee2c5793aac2a29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025071204078_c65a5ec574a251489c502f3efdf842033e0d238fd57947f7eee2c5793aac2a29" data-rendition-name="original" width="602" height="686" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>Time-lapse satellite images of glacial lake development from 2016 to present. Animation of the process can be seen at https://www.mdpi.com/article/10.3390/w17101457/s1.</figcaption> </figure>  Sonam Rinzin of Newcastle University estimated the potential depth and volume of the future glacier lake using standard procedures based upon the surface slope of the Kanchenjunga Glacier combined with volume-area curves for similar glacial lakes, estimating that the future lake would have a volume of approximately 33 million cubic meters of water and depth of more than 116 m. Other modeling methods enabled the mapping of probable ice, debris, and/or rock avalanches into the lake that could trigger a GLOF.&nbsp; A third model was then used to simulate four different avalanche scenarios that could trigger a GLOF: from small (debris avalanche of 3 million cubic meters) to the worst case (15 million cubic meters) of fast-moving debris. Even under the small magnitude scenario, avalanche-triggered outburst floods would travel distances of almost 120km downstream, and under the worst-case scenario the floods would reach the Indo-Gangetic Plain and cross the border into India, damaging or destroying up to 90 buildings and 44 bridges. The prospective triggers of a future GLOF, however, are not limited to a nearby rock avalanche. A <a href="https://tc.copernicus.org/articles/11/443/2017/tc-11-443-2017.html">sudden release of water</a> from water-filled caves further up the glacier could trigger a surge wave capable of breaching the terminal moraine complex holding in the lake water.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250712040716_20ed87368a9ac416b5d0232cf8e02211195ca6bc9fff960a1f7e43a95bdfbbf9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250712040716_20ed87368a9ac416b5d0232cf8e02211195ca6bc9fff960a1f7e43a95bdfbbf9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1621" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools"> <figcaption>Theoretical Kangchenjunga glacial lake of the future (blue) contained by a front moraine (purple) with a flood possibly triggered by a massive rock avalanche (red).</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-not-so-permanent-frost">Weakening permafrost</a> at the highest altitudes could result in massive ice-debris avalanches, such as those believed to have triggered recent and catastrophic floods in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-the-seti-disaster">Seti River</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">Barun Khola</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/non-climate-cause-of-nanda-devi-flood">Chamoli</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">South Lhonak lake</a>, and Tuesday’s Bhote Kosi flood in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">Rasuwa</a>. Weakening and eventual collapse of the terminal moraine complex through sub-surface piping could also result in an outburst flood. And a range of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">cascading processes</a> currently unknown to scientists could trigger a flood as well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250712040712_76336a4597c08dd735e57b09ae9840b6bd3d89c85907bb39424d9e6f3163581e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250712040712_76336a4597c08dd735e57b09ae9840b6bd3d89c85907bb39424d9e6f3163581e" data-rendition-name="original" width="740" height="565" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>Jannu glacier in 1899. Note how the level of the debris-covered glacier reached the top of the lateral moraines over a hundred years ago. Photo: V. SELLA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250712040712_707dd365923a002e889c64a88796b445695ea9ca692ec639179bc70217ed63c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250712040712_707dd365923a002e889c64a88796b445695ea9ca692ec639179bc70217ed63c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="5184" height="3888" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>Jannu glacier in 2022. The remaining debris-covered glacier is now several hundred meters below the crests of the lateral moraines. Photo: E. BYERS</figcaption> </figure>  But will a large and potentially dangerous glacial actually form at the Kanchenjunga glacier? There’s really no way to tell at this point, although the rapid development of lakes since 2016 is a strong indicator that a large lake is in the process of forming. And rather than wait and see, our current uncertainty does not diminish the need for a more proactive approach to the development of a large glacial lake at some point in the near future. For example, the lower Kanchenjunga Glacier clearly needs to be regularly monitored over the coming years to keep track of glacial lake growth and potential hazards. This could be done by the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology (DHM), ICIMOD, or Kathmandu University with results regularly shared with local people and local governments.&nbsp; In fact, such a service could be developed into a program that is offered to other communities throughout highland Nepal who experience similar situations of glacial lake development, growth, and prospective danger, especially since most communities presently feel that they have no one to turn to for similar information. Inexpensive, locally appropriate, user-friendly early warning systems (EWS) need to be developed for the Kanchenjunga region now, instead of waiting for a tragedy to happen. While the different options and costs are being assessed, the installation of new cell towers in the upper Ghunsa Khola would assure that local residents have access to one of the most effective and proven EWS systems available: cell phones, combined with a lake level monitoring device that broadcasts data and connects to cell phone alarm systems.&nbsp; For example, hundreds of lives were saved when upstream witnesses called their family and friends downstream to warn them of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Anatom-of-a-Himalayan-tsunami,1330">Seti River flood</a> near Pokhara in 2014. New zoning policies that prohibit the construction of lodges and other infrastructure in high-risk floodplain regions need to be developed now. Where the infrastructure already exists, villages should be encouraged to install gabion rock-filled wire cages along susceptible river channel or river interfaces to divert the flow of water during a flood event, a method used successfully in both highland and riverine Nepal. Local and national hazard training and response programs need to be developed now. Several examples of excellent programs developed by different organisations in the upper Khumbu region exist that provide excellent models, such as those tested by the US Agency for International Development <a href="https://www.hillarymedal.com/Khumbu-Nepal-Local-Adaptation-Plan-of-Action-%20report.pdf">(USAID) and ICIMOD</a> between 2011 and 2015. Glacial lake reduction&nbsp; Nepal was recently awarded a $36.1 million award by the Green Climate Fund (GCF) to directly confront many of hazards from glacial lake outburst floods jointly implemented by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and the DHM building on past successes at Tso Rolpa and Imja Lakes. There are some lessons learned over the past decades of field work based in Nepal and Peru: 1. The DHM wants to use the project to reduce GLOF risks in Kosi and Gandaki basins and glacial lake reduction programs are planned for Thulagi, Lower Barun, Lumding Tsho, and Hongu 2 glacial lakes.&nbsp; However, the planned lowering depth for Tso Rolpa in 2000 was 20m, with the project ending once 3m lowering was achieved due to lack of funds. Imja lake, which scientists also determined needed to be lowered by at least 20m, was in fact lowered by 3m in 2016 ‘because that’s what they did at Tso Rolpa’.&nbsp; If glacial lake reduction programs are to be implemented under the GCF program they should be based upon good science, and lowered to an effective depth, otherwise the activity will be a waste of funds. <a href="https://sinia.minam.gob.pe/sites/default/files/siar-%20ancash/archivos/public/docs/usaid_glacial_lake_handbookrfs_0-ilovepdf-%20compressed_0.pdf">Peru offers experience</a> for glacial lake lowering. 2. Although large glacial lakes (more than 1sq km) will always command the most media and even scientific attention, it has become abundantly clear in recent years that even small glacial lakes can be just as deadly, given the correct sequence of cascading events, rainfall, snowmelt, and/or other triggers.&nbsp; The 2017 <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10346-018-1079-9">Barun flood</a> and September 2024 <a href="https://www.stimson.org/event/the-%20thame-glof-disaster-climate-related-disaster-risk-management-in-the-high-himalayas/">Thame flood</a> are two excellent examples. Methods for assessing the flood risk of glacial lakes will need to be revised accordingly to include many of these smaller glacial lakes as well, in addition to the 21 large lakes already considered to be dangerous. 3. Existing and expensive EWS might benefit by some consideration of cheaper, more local, and possibly more effective alternatives. In 2015, for example, <a href="https://digitalcommons.macalester.edu/himalaya/vol37/iss2/7/">villagers</a> living below Tso Rolpa complained that they had no idea how the recently installed EWS worked, what it sounded like, and what to do in the event that it went off. With improved cell service and real-time lake level monitoring apps, local people could check on the lake whenever they wished, as opposed to waiting for some kind of communication from Kathmandu. 4. The GCF grant has the opportunity to become the ‘go to’ place for communities throughout highland Nepal to report any of their concerns related to glacial lakes and/or other observed cryospheric processes. This service could facilitate local people’s ability to adapt to, mitigate, or prevent a range of climate change-related hazards largely unknown to previous generations. Alton C Byers is a faculty research scientist at the Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research (INSTAAR) University of Colorado at Boulder and has visited the KCA including a six-month residency in Ghunsa supported by the Fulbright Nepal Scholar Program. This article is largely based on Evolution of a Potentially Dangerous Glacial Lake on the Kanchenjunga Glacier, Nepal, Predictive Flood Models, and Prospective Community Response. <a href="https://doi.org/10.3390/w17101457">Water</a>, 2025. (Byers AC, Rinzin S, Byers E, Wangchuk S.)

Meltpools in the Himalaya

In 2023, northern India suffered record-breaking heat. In 2024, it broke its own record. In 2025, the Indo-Gangetic plains and the Nepal Tarai suffered a prolonged pre-monsoon heat wave and humidity, forcing closure of schools and workplaces. This week, <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/europe-heat-wave-intensifies-as-fresh-warnings-issued/live-73108302">southern Europe is suffering the worst heat wave</a> since temperature records began. Football matches, tennis tournaments have been affected, and tourist sites have been closed off. Qatar has ordered a midday work curfew for Nepali and other migrant workers are the maximum temperature this week touched 45°C.&nbsp; Kathmandu Valley experienced its highest temperature in 25 years in May 2024 at 35.3°C. This year, the maximum temperature exceeded 30°C on many days — heat that till a decade ago would be considered unusual. Rains in early June also meant that towns in the mountains sweltered under high heat plus humidity.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250703090748_6975cfc2ad573f3a09ca301a299a9e92a420da7f1c5c90b8e4d061a2053dcd3e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250703090748_6975cfc2ad573f3a09ca301a299a9e92a420da7f1c5c90b8e4d061a2053dcd3e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1935" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="maximum average temperature in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Source: DHM</figcaption> </figure>  Measuring just temperature does not give a true picture of how hot it is. When humidity is factored in, the heat index this summer has been much higher in northern India and Nepal. Also, the hotter the air temperature the higher the concentration of water vapour in it. “We feel it is getting hotter, and our statistics back that up,” says Shanti Kandel at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology, which issued two heat wave warnings this year, compared to 11 last year. “We need more research to analyse how humidity is make this situation worse.” <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-faces-alarming-30-rise-in-moist-heat-stress-over-40-years-affecting-wide-swath-of-country-imd-study/articleshow/109376863.cms?from=mdr">A recent analysis</a> by the Indian Meteorological Department has found that heat stress in that country has increased by nearly 30% over the past 40 years. Similarly, India’s Council on Energy, Environment and Water (CEEW) noted that cities like Delhi, Chandigarh, Jaipur, and Lucknow have experienced a 6-9% rise in relative humidity in the last decade.&nbsp; It also states that <a href="https://www.reuters.com/sustainability/climate-energy/majority-indian-districts-face-high-heatwave-risk-study-shows-2025-05-20/#:~:text=%22About%2057%20per%20cent%20of,usual%20number%20of%20heatwave%20days.">60% of Indian districts</a>, home to three-quarters of the country’s 1.3 billion people face a high to very high risk from extreme heat, with rising night-time temperatures and humidity. The heat index is also called ‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/north-indian-heat-wave-hits-nepal">wet-bulb temperature</a>’ and is a measure of how hot the human body feels when humidity levels are also high — usually much hotter than the recorded temperature. For example, a wet-bulb temperature of 35°C is considered the maximum limit of heat and humidity that humans can handle, beyond which the body cannot cool by perspiration, leading to death. One indicator of increasing humidity is a rise in average minimum temperature, and Nepal recorded the highest figure since 1981 last year, with a peak of 15.8°C. Higher minimum temperature denotes warmer nights, which in turn is an indication of heat stress caused by increasing humidity, which in turn is a result of global warming. Aside from higher average temperatures worldwide this year, what makes heat and humidity more unbearable is that cities are always hotter than their surroundings. This is due to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/preparing-for-kathmandu-s-heat-waves">urban heat island (UHI) effect</a> – for example the temperature inside Kathmandu’s Ring Road can be hotter by <a href="https://www.epa.gov/heatislands/what-are-heat-islands">up to 4°C during the daytime and by 1 to 3°C in the evening</a> compared to the outskirts. “Climate change is one reason for rising temperature, but there are other factors like increased heat in urban spaces due to concrete buildings and infrastructure, emissions from vehicles, industries, and home appliances,” explains urban planner Bhushan Tuladhar. He adds: “Much of this comes down to how we have developed our cities, not just our roads and buildings but also our water system, waste management, culture and customs as well as economy.” There is a feedback loop at work: as it gets hotter, more energy is used for fans, coolers, and air-conditioners which in turn add to the urban heat bubble. The way to reduce the UHI effect is to have more parks, tree-lined streets and water bodies to cool cities down.&nbsp; <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S2212095525002093">A recent study published in the journal Urban Climate</a> by Nepali researchers at the University of Massachusetts, Tribhuvan University, University of Groningen, etc showed that even within Kathmandu, urban forests cooled neighbourhoods by as much as 1.2°C while ponds reduced the temperature by up to 0.85°C compared to nearby houses.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250703090748_e4de75dbdfb5fcfdeb0935eda364dc16b5dca8857ba335ab0f4586ebdc5093a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250703090748_e4de75dbdfb5fcfdeb0935eda364dc16b5dca8857ba335ab0f4586ebdc5093a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2580" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="urban heat island in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Source: URBAN CLIMATE et al.</figcaption> </figure>  ‘Our results demonstrate that blue-green spaces provide significant cooling benefits across the Kathmandu Valley, with distinct patterns by type, size, design, and urban context,’ concluded the paper, whose lead author is Saurav Bhattarai at Jackson State University in the United States. The old towns in Kathmandu Valley with traditional brick and tile architecture, ponds and trees managed hot summers better. Compact houses around a courtyard gave people just the right amount of sunlight, and use of clay mortar and bricks insulated houses in winter while cooling them in summer. There were open spaces, fertile land along the floodplains for farming, and brick pavements that allowed for seepage. “Our cities were planned taking nature into account,” says Sangeeta Singh, a professor of urban planning at the Institute of Engineering. “Kathmandu Valley is now built up, but we can still reintegrate blue-blue spaces into town planning with vertical gardening, urban forestry, using local material and harvesting rainwater.”&nbsp; Kathmandu’s municipalities have by-laws controlling building design and structure, but strict enforcement of land use and zoning are missing. Extreme heat disproportionately affects the urban poor who may not have access to fans or air-conditioners, exacerbating poverty.&nbsp; Cities in the plains have it even worse. As heat and humidity rise simultaneously, it could <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/garmi-se-behal-chalo-nepal">reverse the current mass migration</a> of people from the mountains to the Tarai, where 53% of Nepal’s population lives. <a href="https://thedocs.worldbank.org/en/doc/92fbbbc6180238e18e7b239fad83e38a-0280032024/original/12-DHNT-Temperature-poverty-inequality-September-2024.pdf">A World Bank study</a> put the cost of a 1°C rise in temperature at 17.1% increase in poverty globally. Estimates put the total number of urban poor in developing countries exposed to the worst heat extremes at 26 million presently, this number is bound to grow to 215 million by mid-century, an over eight-fold increase. Meanwhile, 489,000 health-related deaths occur each year, 45% of them in Asia alone. “Heat has to be seen from a class perspective,” says Singh. “Those with money can afford gadgets and appliances to keep their homes and offices cool, but not day labourers or poor families living in cramped housing with poor ventilation.” Climate breakdown is going to widen the class divide in cities, as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/unthinkable-in-the-current-climate">summers become unliveable</a>. Says Singh: “We need policy intervention to address this class injustice. Our building by-laws and new town development must urgently integrate climate and energy efficiency elements.”

In the heat of the moment

On the afternoon of 28 May, a massive glacier avalanche destroyed the idyllic village of Blatten in the Valais region of Switzerland. Footage of the disaster rapidly circulated around the world, sparking renewed conversation about the increasing instability of the mountain cryosphere and climate-related risks. The population of nearly 300 people had been evacuated a week prior due to concerns that unstable slopes above the glacier could trigger a catastrophic event. This is remarkable, and a testament to the value of hazard monitoring and anticipatory action. Shocked by the intensity of avalanche impacts and devastating loss, people struggled to comprehend the alternative: what if the village had been full? In Nepal, the people of the Langtang Valley, survivors of a massive glacier avalanche that killed over 300 people in April 2015, know exactly what it feels like for an entire village to be <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/may/17/nepal-earthquake-langtang-village-everyone-was-dead">‘wiped off the map’</a> in a little more than a minute. The avalanche that buried the village of Langtang was similarly catastrophic, as the avalanche fell over 3,000m and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/19/world/asia/nepal-avalanche-langtang.html">carried nearly as much force as the Hiroshima atomic bomb</a>. Unfortunately, the people of Langtang had no warning. While these two disasters are quite different, there are some important connections between them. As the world contemplates the threat of increasing climate-related glacier hazards and wonders if and how Blatten will rebuild, I would like to draw attention to the ever-present risk of similar disasters in the Himalayas, where the scale of the problem is (arguably) larger and resources are (inarguably) more limited. As events like these become increasingly common, we need to build monitoring and <a href="https://www.undrr.org/implementing-sendai-framework/sendai-framework-action/early-warnings-for-all">early warning systems for all</a> at-risk communities. We also need more comparative analysis of the ways mountain people make sense of climate-related risks, particularly around wicked questions like hazard zoning and resettlement or relocation. How do institutions determine where to invest in hazard monitoring and early warning systems? Who gets to decide where people can rebuild, what kind of risks are ‘acceptable’, or whose uncertainties matter? As a survivor of the Langtang disaster and an applied anthropologist, this is not a thought exercise for me. I spent more than two years working with the Langtangpa community as a volunteer, and the last ten years conducting research focused on the aftermath of the Langtang avalanche and the ways people cope with disaster and climate risk in the Himalayan region. Since late 2022, I have been <a href="https://www.stimson.org/project/early-warning-systems-for-cascading-disasters-in-nepal/">working with the Stimson Center </a>to consider how we might build systems to assess and monitor the changing risks of cascading hazards in the Himalayan region. As the Swiss and a range of international organizations consider how they might provide warning for other Alpine villages living beneath glaciers, we need to expand the conversation to consider the many Himalayan villages that are similarly at-risk. The question of climate causality currently haunts the Blatten disaster -- just as it has for other similar events in recent years, including the Langtang avalanche. While attribution is incredibly complicated, many scientists have already highlighted the ways that melting permafrost and loss of seasonal snowcover and glacial mass created instability in the overall system above the Birch Glacier on Kleines Nesthorn. Not all glaciers are receding. In Blatten, recurring slope failures had also been piling debris on the glacier slowly over the years, pushing the ‘glacier tongue’ forward and weakening its integrity – and this acceleration attracted attention and focused monitoring. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7334623807573278721/">A recent post from Christian Huggel, a leading cryosphere scientist based at University of Zurich</a> examined these details and clearly stated: “Considering all these processes it would be absurd, ignorant or dishonest to state that anthropogenic warming has not played any role in the ice-rock avalanche disaster in <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/search/results/all/?keywords=%23blatten&amp;origin=HASH_TAG_FROM_FEED">Blatten</a>. Interestingly, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2025/jun/01/this-is-ground-zero-for-blatten-the-tiny-swiss-village-engulfed-by-a-mountain">other scientists have indicated that “exact attribution is almost beside the point.”</a> Tellingly, it took almost ten years for formal scientific recognition (see <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43247-024-01624-z">this Nature paper published in 2024</a>) in part because it was seismically triggered, overshadowing the climate-related signal.That said, many Langtangpa highlighted these connections immediately after the disaster, as many are doing in Blatten right now. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-courage-and-endurance-of-the-langtangpa">My friends in Langtang have spent the last ten years rebuilding their lives</a> while wondering if another event of this magnitude might be possible.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250607140612_5ccfd4786416a151e1c2d44f79add3c196da34e1c30af9188de10982b45d72f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250607140612_5ccfd4786416a151e1c2d44f79add3c196da34e1c30af9188de10982b45d72f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="Blatten NT"> <figcaption>Copernicus statellite image of the avalanche that buried the village Blatten in Switzerland on 28 May, 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250607140616_306112d2eb5330d0a5117bae3fc372861afce5137b52f793285e6b1cf89ca31a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250607140616_306112d2eb5330d0a5117bae3fc372861afce5137b52f793285e6b1cf89ca31a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1733" height="1053" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang NT"> <figcaption>The deadly earthquake-triggered avalance that destroyed Langtang village in Nepal on 25 April, 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  Like the people of the Swiss Alps, the Langtangpa have been living with avalanches for centuries, and they have used both situated knowledge and practical systems to adapt to changing risks. But, in Langtang as in Blatten, the scale and impact of this singular tragedy was both unprecedented and unforeseen. Tellingly, Langtang was not a scientific hinterland: groups from a dozen different countries were conducting glaciological, hydrological, and climatological research there prior to the disaster. Blatten is a case where the scientists knew where to look. But even in relatively well-studied places like Langtang, disasters can emerge in our blind spots.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">Last year’s Thame glacial lake outburst flood</a> (GLOF) also began in an overlooked and understudied area – <a href="https://www.stimson.org/2024/rethinking-himalayan-cryosphere-risk-assessment-in-the-wake-of-nepals-thame-disaster/">prompting scientists to rethink the ways we assess glacial lakes</a>. Issues related to <a href="https://www.icimod.org/mountain/permafrost/">melting permafrost</a>, which seems to have been a factor for both the Blatten disaster and <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/posts/tashi-lhazom-5a433b22b_rebuildtil-limifloodrelief-fromtearstohope-activity-7332420946013691904-N0sH?utm_source=share&amp;utm_medium=member_desktop&amp;rcm=ACoAAADxlvsBK3zQKg0X2xPLPS94HyMEettoSU4">the cascading ‘thermokarst lake outburst flood’ that recently occurred in the Limi Valley</a>, are increasingly recognised as a pervasive risk but it is difficult to monitor and the science is young. A multitude of different cryosphere-related disasters are possible across the Himalaya, and background risk is increasing. How do we triage between these different kinds of hazards? How do we know where to look? While it might not have been possible to monitor the glaciers and cryosphere features that contributed to the Langtang disaster, we need to be actively looking for other places where monitoring systems and early warning is possible in Nepal and the broader Himalayan region. Of course, we do need to be precise in our analysis and communication around climate attribution, but consensus does exist on some general trends: climate change is driving new hazard interactions that can generate extreme flows. Therefore, we also need to recognise the undeniable: that background risk is undeniably rising, that lives are at risk, and that we need to invest in building systems that can help anticipate events like Blatten (which takes time, time that others don’t have) immediately. The fact that Langtang has been fully rebuilt and community leaders were effective in determining the shape of their own future and ‘building back better’ their way (as complicated as that may be), demonstrates that a future can be possible, amid uncertainty. But the future of many other communities in the Himalaya, who should never have to go through what the Langtangpa went through if we can avoid it, still remains at-risk without more scientific attention and investment. Meanwhile, the monsoon is arriving in Nepal and another disaster could happen any day now. Coverage of the Blatten disaster has been rightfully robust. Praise for the scientists and authorities who identified these risks and correctly analyzed the situation is also deserved, for that is difficult work. A wider call to learn from this event and use insights to inform policy on climate risk assessment or questions of managed retreat is also exceedingly necessary and urgent. As many scientists are saying: events like this will happen again. This is a scary time in the mountains, in the Alps, in the Himalaya, and many other regions. That said, not all places are equally exposed or vulnerable. To reiterate a core question that I have been asking for years: <a href="https://dialogue.earth/en/climate/opinion-climate-disasters-integrate-local-knowledge/">Whose uncertainties matter</a>? When and why? We know that climate-related loss and damage will not be equally or equitably distributed, and that is one of the core reasons for the UN’s Early Warnings for All program. Blatten is being talked about this week <a href="https://globalplatform.undrr.org/2025/preparatory-days/global-ew4all-multi-stakeholder-forum">while the Global Platform for Disaster Risk Reduction is going in Geneva</a>, from where some of my Nepali colleagues posted photos of them posing with a sign that speaks to the justice issue: ‘Early warnings work. They must work for everyone.” Working toward this noble goal will require a concerted and committed global effort. -- Austin Lord, PhD is a Senior Fellow at the Stimson Center and an environmental anthropologist who has been conducting research in Nepal for the past 13 years on disaster and climate risk management, water and energy policy, infrastructure development, and environmental governance.

Blatten, Langtang, and Disasters Yet to Come?

Frontpage topic

We were used to getting stuck in Kathmandu’s notorious traffic with gas fumes and horns blaring. We are still stuck in traffic, but now it is mostly the quiet hum of EVs, and street-level air is noticeably cleaner. Alongside Norway, Nepal has the highest combustion-to-EV conversion rates in the world. And we are not even a middle-income country yet. How did we get here?&nbsp; For the first time in Nepal’s history, 2025 saw an unprecedented turn of events: two back-to-back auto shows a week apart in August, independent of each other. This was timed for the warm up to the Dasain season. &nbsp;&nbsp; The first auto show 6-11 August was the <a href="https://naimanepal.org/mobility-expo" target="_blank">NAIMA Mobility Expo 2025 </a>by the newly established Nepal Automobile Importers and Manufacturers Association which saw 35 new models, many of them EVs with 50 participating brands like Toyota, BYD, Hyundai, Kia, MG, Mahindra, Omoda &amp; Jaecoo, Proton and Leapmotor.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1770" height="1097" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The exhibition had a strong focus on two-wheelers aimed at affordable and easy mobility in a town now known for long traffic jams (see report). NAIMA attracted a record 100,000 visitors in six days.&nbsp; The second one was the Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association Auto Show 2025 (<a href="https://youtu.be/emSd0mUuMjU" target="_blank">NADA</a>) to address the growing demands for cars and two-wheelers. It was a natural expression of new market forces at work, on one hand, and popular taste, on the other — one influencing the other.&nbsp; This year’s NADA Auto Show was its 17th iteration, and carried a hefty legacy: exhibiting a contemporary lineup from manufacturers such as Tata, Suzuki, Xpeng and Nammi, but also classics for vintage car lovers like the 1928 Ford Model A and a rare 1955 Austin Princess Dm4 sedan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1381" height="848" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  It also showcased the Deepal eVTOL (a 2-seater drone), and a humanoid robot with dog. Curious onlookers at Bhrikuti Mandap thronged the show with footfall crossing 170,000.&nbsp; Earlier this year, I had traveled to attend India's largest auto show, the <a href="https://youtu.be/OgIIvXx6yOM?si=zNmMgklzCJpagTye" target="_blank">Bharat Mobility Global expo</a> in January in New Delhi. It was part of a <a href="https://youtu.be/GT6LBKiJvyg?si=r7YaxahjSAnsIfBY" target="_blank">roadtrip</a> from one capital to another with BYD Nepal on a Dolphin. The journey took three days through Bhairawa and then the Lucknow-Agra Expressway, covering a distance of 1200km one way.&nbsp; The drive through the horrid Narayanghat-Butwal corridor alone was testimony that EVs are no longer fragile and could handle a beating. And while both Nepal's economy pales in comparison to India, it was evident that the private passenger segment is well on its way to electrification. More than 70% of all vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric. Sales representatives are unanimous: inquiries for EVs are at an all-time high and overshadow demand for ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles. Besides four-wheelers, a fast-growing proportion of scooters were also electric.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="863" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  I have spent the last two years <a href="https://youtu.be/256YQa37Ol8?si=Sv1wQ8EdvgMCiTM_" target="_blank">reviewing</a> many of these EVs. The days of batter-powered cars being small toy cars, with sub-par build quality and the range of golf carts have long gone.&nbsp; Fit and finishing in both Chinese and Indian EVs are comparable to established brand names even in Japanese and European markets. But most significantly for us in Nepal, battery technology and range have made inter-city travel on our highways imaginable. The media sometimes portrays Nepal as a prime testing/dumping ground for EVs due to lack of regulation and the proximity to the world’s largest EV exporter (China) and our tough geographical conditions. That is just a part of the story. What actually stands out is the incredible appetite for risk among Nepali buyers.&nbsp; Since the Covid pandemic charging infrastructure has spread across the country. My early trips between Kathmandu and Pokhara saw the possibility of topping up with just one charging gun at the <a href="https://rsr.com.np/" target="_blank">Riverside Springs Resort in Kurintar</a> – and I would have to wait in line, or the charger simply would not be working.&nbsp; These days, by the time I cross Kurintar from Koteswor in my Kona, I will have passed at least 10 charging stations with multiple guns. &nbsp; On my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">YouTube reviews</a>, people from across the globe ask about range and handling EVs on poor road conditions like ours. The occasional skeptics also leave comments like: ‘If this works in the higher altitudes and mountainous roads of Nepal, then it should be a breeze down here in the flats of Australia and/or hills around Auckland!’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1139" height="787" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  SATURATION? However, both the NAIMA and NADA auto show also confirmed that we could be hitting a peak EV. From having just one car in one budget segment, there are now multiple alternatives stretching from the entry of below Rs3 million to the premium and high-end Rs 10 million price point.&nbsp; Furthermore, the price wars on EVs that started in China a year ago have also trickled across to Nepal. Models such as the <a href="https://youtu.be/3wFN2I81Tq0?si=T6L4SAfRpoyNNvYC" target="_blank">MG S5</a>, Nammi Vigo, BYD Atto 2 (and 1) and <a href="https://youtu.be/y214kWbWTc4?si=bIevanDZEPQdkEs4" target="_blank">Deepal S05</a> saw aggressive pricing schemes and discounts that disrupted pre-existing quotas. Consumers can suddenly afford a lot more cars, and travel a lot further for a considerably smaller price tag.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1953" height="1107" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  However, booking numbers at both auto shows did not necessarily translate into actual deliveries. The fact remains that almost 80% of registered vehicles in Nepal are still two-wheelers, and GDP per capita stands at just $1500 — among the lowest in the world.&nbsp; This means that early first-adopters are first-time buyers, and the remaining customers in the market are more skeptical and less willing. But there are also those that are unlikely to consider the EV suitable to travel to off-road rural areas. For the average Nepali family, upgrading or purchasing a new car is no small decision. It happens in five years or more with resale values being a big determinant. The EV boom may be reaching saturation.&nbsp; Both NADA and NAIMA shows drove home the message that Nepal’s transport sector is on an electric fast-track, but the road ahead will be bumpy.&nbsp; Soon after the shows, the glacial debris flow on the Bhote Kosi knocked out the Rasuwa-Kerung border with China, and earlier landslides had already blocked the Koradi checkpoint. Manufacturers are now using the less convenient Korala border in Mustang. BYD, Leapmotor and Omoda &amp; Jaecoo have begun rerouting their vehicles to make up for delivery deadlines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1031" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Although the distance from the capital to the Korala border (470km) is four times longer than from Rasuwa (128km) &nbsp;and Tatopani (112km), it is still considered faster and more cost effective than shipping via India using sea routes.&nbsp; And then Nepal was engulfed in turmoil after the youth-led protests of 8-9 September and its aftermath. Many automobile showrooms around Thapathali including Tata, Hyundai and CG were vandalised and torched.&nbsp; Sushila Karki leads a caretaker government till elections are held in March, and the unsettled situation will affect the economy and investment climate as well as the automobile sector. Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Youtube</a>, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Tiktok</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/casuallyannoyeddriver/" target="_blank">IG</a>, and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

Although US President Donald Trump’s protectionist trade policies dominate news headlines, they are far from the only forces shaping global production. New investment patterns have been reshaping the global economic landscape since well before Trump’s tariffs. 
Nowhere is this more evident than in flows of foreign direct investment. According to the latest <a href="https://unctad.org/publication/world-investment-report-2025" target="_blank">World Investment Report</a> from United Nations Trade and Development (UNCTAD), FDI inflows to Europe, South America, and much of Asia declined in 2024. By contrast, FDI flows to Africa surged by 75%, to $97 billion, while those to Southeast Asia increased by 10%, to $225 billion. 
Behind these trends lies a broader restructuring of multinational supply chains, which are steadily shifting toward Southeast Asia, Eastern Europe, and Central America. Consequently, FDI patterns are also changing: while the United States, Japan, and China remain the largest outward investors, the Middle East has emerged as a major source of FDI. 
Flush with oil revenue, the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries – Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates – invested <a href="https://studies.aljazeera.net/en/analyses/gccs-strategic-footprint-gulf-investment-emerging-power-bloc-africa" target="_blank">roughly $113 billion</a> in Africa in 2022 and 2023, dramatically expanding their economic footprint on the continent. Most of this capital has gone into logistics and infrastructure projects such as ports, airports, and transportation networks, as well as oil and gas.
The center of gravity, however, is rapidly shifting toward China, especially when it comes to green investment. A <a href="https://www.netzeropolicylab.com/china-green-leap" target="_blank">new report</a> from the Net Zero Industrial Policy Lab highlights the scope of Chinese outward FDI, showing how China’s push into clean energy is boosting its economic influence. 
Drawing on a database of 461 China-backed greentech manufacturing projects announced between 2011 and mid-2025, the report finds that Chinese firms have invested more than $220 billion in 387 projects across 54 countries since 2022. These include solar and wind power facilities, large-scale battery plants, new-energy vehicles, charging infrastructure, and even early-stage green-hydrogen startups. 
According to the report, Chinese investments are largely driven by firms’ search for market access and reliable supplies of raw materials. While ASEAN countries remain the leading destination for such projects, the Middle East and North Africa’s share rose sharply to over 20% in 2024; Latin America and Central Asia also attracted a significant share of Chinese FDI. 
Importantly, this wave of Chinese FDI is not led by state-owned enterprises but by private companies that have relied neither on large loans from state-owned banks nor on subsidies from host governments. As one of the study’s authors <a href="https://www.phenomenalworld.org/interviews/the-belt-and-road-2-0/" target="_blank">observed</a>, “Chinese government officials themselves may not be aware of the full range and aggregated total of these private-sector green investments overseas.” 
Taken together, these developments signal a new phase in China’s global economic expansion. Unlike President Xi Jinping’s state-led Belt and Road Initiative, profit-oriented investments reflect both supply-side pressures – such as industrial overcapacity within China – and demand-side dynamics, with recipient countries increasingly tying market access to value-added processing rather than natural-resource extraction.
Given that the full impact of these projects will become clear only years from now, many observers – particularly in advanced economies – could be caught off guard. While Chinese exports and extractive investments have often been viewed as threats to industrialization in recipient countries, the current wave of manufacturing FDI has the potential to strengthen domestic production, create jobs, and promote broader development goals. Even limited technology transfers could prove transformative, accelerating the clean-energy transition and reshaping global trade. 
To be sure, China is not in the business of philanthropy. FDI – whether from the West, China, or the Gulf – is profit-driven, and sometimes motivated by rent-seeking. It can deliver significant benefits, but it also carries risks: environmental degradation, displacement, labor exploitation, foreign-exchange losses through profit repatriation, and costly technical fees or royalties. And when expected linkages and spillovers fail to materialize, the benefits remain highly localized. 
As always, much depends on the policies adopted by host countries. Encouragingly, some export-oriented developing economies appear to have learned from Indonesia, where the government compelled Chinese firms to generate more domestic value-added production (particularly in nickel processing) as a condition for investment. 
Inspired by this, several governments are seeking to impose similar requirements on foreign investors, with greater emphasis on local production and knowledge transfer. For example, in <a href="https://www.china-briefing.com/news/china-brazil-economic-ties-trade-investment-and-opportunities/" target="_blank">Brazil</a>, the consumer-electronics company Lenovo has established a joint research and development department to enhance its local digital intelligent manufacturing capabilities. 
That said, even Indonesia’s relative success has not translated into higher real wages and better working conditions. Welcoming FDI is not enough; host countries also need stronger domestic regulation, public intervention, and regional cooperation to ensure that the gains are broadly shared. 
A similar demand was at the heart of the 1955 Bandung Conference, hosted by Indonesia, which called for a fairer global economic order and greater cooperation among Asian and African countries. Notably, the resolution is <a href="https://eng.yidaiyilu.gov.cn/p/0R9VRTB6.html" target="_blank">still cited</a> on Chinese government websites. 
But fulfilling the Bandung Conference’s call for a fairer international economic order requires more than profit-driven investment. It requires governments that are willing to work together to develop markets that serve societies, not just shareholders. © <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/">Project Syndicate</a>
Jayati Ghosh, Professor of Economics at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, is a member of the Club of Rome’s Transformational Economics Commission and Co-Chair of the Independent Commission for the Reform of International Corporate Taxation.

The Changing Face of Foreign Direct Investment

This article discusses suicidal behaviour. If you have questions on self-harm or feel suicidal, Nepal’s national Suicide Prevention helpline is 1166. Use this link to find an <a href="https://findahelpline.com/" target="_blank">international helpline</a>.
Last year, my phone rang late at night. A colleague from a Kathmandu hospital was on the line, his voice sounded urgent. The patient was a 17-year-old boy who had ingested enough lethal pesticide to end life.
What was more shocking was not just his age, but the fact that this pesticide was banned in Nepal four years ago. On paper, it should no longer exist in the market. In reality, the banned substance is still available, sold discreetly to avoid regulators. But it is within easy reach of those in despair.
Despite the doctors’ best efforts, the boy could not be saved. His death left a family shattered, a community grieving. Another life lost to a poison that should not even be on the shelves?
The pesticide in question is aluminium phosphide, commonly sold in tablet form to protect stored grain from pests. It releases highly toxic phosphine gas when ingested, and it is this lethality that makes it one of the most common agents of self-harm in South Asia, including Nepal.
A 2021 study supported by the <a href="https://centrepsp.org/)" target="_blank">Center for Pesticide Suicide Prevention</a> at the University of Edinburgh showed aluminium phosphide as one of the most common agents for pesticide deaths in Nepal.
Recognising the negative effect of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/playing-with-poison">highly hazardous pesticides to the environment and human health</a>, the Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development has banned 26 pesticides since 2001, including small aluminium phosphide tablets and dichlorvos in August 2019, and paraquat and chlorpyrifos in December 2024.&nbsp;
However, enforcement is weak.&nbsp;
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/suicide-by-pesticide-in-nepal">Pesticide poisoning </a>is not an isolated health issue, it is a national crisis. In 2023-24, the total reported deaths from suicide in Nepal peaked at 7,223 — the highest number ever recorded. On average, 20 Nepalis die by suicide every day.&nbsp;
Some 15% of these deaths were caused by the ingestion of toxic substances, and nearly 95% of those involved highly hazardous pesticides. In rural areas, where most cases occur, pesticides are often more accessible than healthcare or counselling.
To be sure, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/breaking-the-pesticide-suicide-link">pesticide-related suicide deaths</a> have generally declined over the past few years, falling from 1,276 in 2020-21 to 932 in 2022-23. Last year, there was a slight increase to 952, but the overall trend shows a significant and sustained public health improvement.&nbsp;
Deaths from dichlorvos poisoning have decreased markedly, research shows. However, fatalities linked to aluminum phosphide have not declined significantly.
Behind every number is a story: a young student overwhelmed by exam pressure, a farmer drowning in debt, a mother caught in a family dispute. In moments of despair, access to a lethal poison often determines whether a person survives or dies.
<a href="https://centrepsp.org/country-success-stories" target="_blank">Research worldwide</a> shows that restricting access to highly hazardous pesticides significantly reduces suicide deaths, without increasing the use of other methods.
Suicide is complicated, influenced by mental health issues, family problems, and financial stress. But the method makes all the difference. In Nepal, many pesticide-related suicides are impulsive, carried out in moments of crisis when lethal pesticides are within reach.&nbsp;
When a deadly poison is easy to get, survival is unlikely. If it is removed, people may still try to harm themselves, but their chances of survival are much higher. This chance can be the difference between life and death, despair and recovery.
Preventing suicide in Nepal requires action on many fronts: strictly enforcing pesticide bans and holding violators accountable, closely monitoring pesticide sales and stocks, supporting poison centres to help doctors treat poisoning cases quickly, providing community mental health services to find and assist people at risk, and raising public awareness to reduce stigma around mental health and encourage families to seek help.
The crisis in Nepal reflects a broader global challenge. The World Health Organization estimates that pesticides account for nearly one in five suicides worldwide. Low-and middle-income countries bear the heaviest burden, particularly in agrarian societies where pesticides are stored in homes.
As we mark the World Mental Health Day on 10 October, Nepal has both an urgent responsibility and an opportunity to show leadership. By committing not just to policy but to real enforcement, Nepal can save thousands of lives in the years to come.
It is unacceptable that young Nepalis continue to die from poisons that should no longer exist in our communities. Regulators, policymakers, health workers, and civil society must work together to close the gap between law and practice.
The 17-year-old boy from Bagmati should have had his whole life ahead of him. Instead, he is now just another statistic in Nepal’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicide-watch">preventable tragedy of pesticide suicides</a>. For him and countless others like him, we must ensure that deadly poisons are truly off our shelves.
Rakesh Ghimire, MD, is a clinical pharmacologist and assistant professor at Institute of Medicine in Kathmandu. He is the recipient of the 2025 Mrigendra Raj Pandey Young Health Research Award.

Preventing suicide by pesticide in Nepal

One July afternoon in Gaur, after weeks of drought, the long-awaited rain finally arrived. Children were splashing in puddles, laughing and dancing with their friends. But while rain in the plains brings relief, fear settles in when it pours in the mountains to the north for too long. That is when the floods are unleashed. Madhes Province suffered a prolonged drought in June and July — wells went dry, paddy fields were desiccated, and parts of the Tarai suffered a cholera outbreak because of contaminated water. When the monsoon rains finally came last week, it <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/more-dark-clouds-over-nepal?amp=1">arrived with a vengeance</a>. Aside from the physical scars of droughts and floods, these weather extremes also leave scars that are less visible: in the minds and mental well-being of residents here. Gaur is the capital of Rautahat district, close to the border with India. It is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-tarai-learns-from-past-floods">prone to chronic floods</a> because it is astride the confluence of two rivers: the Bagmati and the Lalbakaiya. People here still remember the devastating floods of August 2017 when 70% of Rautahat was under water as both rivers overflowed their banks. Weather extremes caused by climate change combined with poorly engineered road embankments, blocked drainage basins, sand mining along rivers, and settlements along floodplains have increased the death and destruction. Floods are also exacerbated by flood control levees across the border in India and improper sluice gates that disrupt the rivers’ natural drainage. This causes floodwaters to back up, submerging settlements on the Nepal side. This past week, Rautahat received up to 330mm of rain in 24 hours — the highest in Nepal. Gaur was once again completely inundated. As before, people found themselves alone with little to no external support at the time of crisis. SURVIVAL MODE Aside from the physical impacts of floods, people suffer anxiety spikes, their decision-making falters as the brain enters survival mode. Fight, flight, or freeze becomes the norm, often leaving people unable to decide what to do when clarity is most needed. Nighttime floods are especially perilous: with power out and darkness setting in, one’s own village becomes a maze. While a few community buildings serve as temporary shelters, reaching them is often impossible. “At such times, you don’t even know where to get out from or how to escape,” a woman from Rajdevi told us. “There’s only my father-in-law at home, so we face the dilemma of whether he should focus on saving our belongings or the people and on top of that, we don’t know how to swim.” For generations, communities have relied on men’s decision-making even during disasters. But with most men away for work, villages are left predominantly with women and elderly men. This makes floods are as much a social crisis as a natural one, especially in a society where roles and responsibilities are gendered. Women face heightened stress managing childcare, domestic duties, household suppression and food scarcity, compounded by gender-based violence which is prevalent in the region.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251010081028_d453cb955b1574a1376ce5cb0f7055c0e210a1e6a70f1cad0ca7306842a006fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251010081028_d453cb955b1574a1376ce5cb0f7055c0e210a1e6a70f1cad0ca7306842a006fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Flooded with memories of floods NT NT"><figcaption>Passengers board the only available boat to cross the Bagmati River; a second operates only when the water level rises.</figcaption></figure>  As for men, they feel intense pressure to provide and protect their family. When they cannot do that in situations like a flood, feelings of guilt, shame and failure can emerge, affecting their well-being. Those who survive face nights with or without shelter, swarmed by mosquitoes and struggling with food scarcity. “We survive on one day’s worth of roti for days when the flood comes, there are no vegetables, no firewood or gas to cook,” the woman added. For many families, daily subsistence is already fragile, and floods only deepen hunger and hardship, heightening stress, anxiety, and psychological trauma, especially among caregivers and children. Malnutrition further intensifies emotional strain and long-term mental health risks. Marginalised communities, particularly Dalits, bear the heaviest burden yet are often the most neglected. During the 2017 floods, around 40 Dalit families were displaced from their settlements, some forced to live under open skies. Some 15% of Rautahat’s population of 700,000 is Dalit. Many were excluded from relief distributions or discouraged from sharing shelters with other communities due to entrenched caste-based discrimination. For these families, floods are not just a disaster but an emotional scar. Dalit women face double discrimination because of caste and gender, fostering a deep sense of abandonment, helplessness, shame, and isolation. In Rautahat, where most families live off the land, the flood undos years of labour and livelihood. When fertile fields or blooming crops submerge and fish ponds are washed away, families lose not only their income but their sense of stability. Agriculture here is more than an occupation, it is tied to identity, dignity, and hope. Repeated crop failure, mounting debt, and uncertainty about the next harvest often lead to anxiety, sleeplessness, and hopelessness, which are silent stressors of Nepal’s agricultural belt. During these crises, villagers rely heavily on family, neighbours, and the limited boats available to cross rivers. Local government responses have often been delayed, and with roads cut off, help arrives late, if at all. That delay breeds distrust and helplessness, deepening the psychological toll long after the waters recede. The people of Gaur and across Rautahat do not have the capacity to deal with aftermath mental issues from the flood as access to such care remains limited. Most cases are often referred outside the district to Kathmandu and Birganj or even across the border to Patna and Delhi. Locals do not trust existing mental health units, they also feel unheard and unsupported. The government provides free psychiatric medicines but they should focus on establishing competent, well equipped mental health institutions with an adequate number of professionals for regular access and strong continuity of care for effective recovery. As floods continue to test the resilience of Rautahat’s people, the need for proper anticipatory action grows ever more urgent. Preventing loss of life and property must go hand in hand with protecting the community’s mental well-being. From a psychosocial perspective, expanding initiatives like giving Psychosocial First Aid training and projects like Sajag Samaj, an anticipatory action project launched in April 2025 can make a real difference. They help communities prepare before disaster strikes, fostering coping skills, awareness, and collective resilience. At the same time, the government and local authorities must strengthen mental health support within disaster response plans, build infrastructures that reduce flood risks and safeguard livelihoods, and ensure that disaster relief is inclusive reaching Dalits, women, and other marginalised groups who are too often left behind. Anek Rajbhandari is program and communication intern at the Institute of Himalayan Risk Reduction.

Flooded with memories of floods

At least 52 people have been killed in Nepal due to landslides and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/more-dark-clouds-over-nepal">floods triggered by heavy rainfall</a> that started late last week along the Chure Hills and Madhes province before it moved to the eastern parts of the country. Kathmandu was spared this time unlike the 28 September 2024 cloudburst that saw over 200 deaths, many of them in the capital city and central Nepal.&nbsp; In recent decades, South Asia has witnessed increasingly frequent episodes of heavy rainfall, leading to recurrent floods in several major Indian cities which have lessons for Nepal too. For example, the Indian city of Chennai experienced major floods in 2005, 2015, and 2023. While every flood is distinct, the impacts have been devastating and appear to be worsening over time. The 2023 floods were the most severe in 47 years. Many times these floods are attributed to climate change, but fundamental questions are often overlooked. To what extent have human errors historically worsened flood impacts? Are we attributing too much to climate change while overlooking development blunders?&nbsp; How effective has the State’s conventional approach been in managing floods and droughts? What corrective measures have been implemented so far? What lessons can be drawn from past extreme events and floods? What strategies are needed to make cities more flood-resilient? How can disasters be transformed into opportunities—for instance, by securing a reliable and abundant urban water supply? As a coastal city, Chennai must also contend with coastal flooding and sea-level rise linked to climate change. The real challenge lies in decoding Chennai’s urban and peri-urban hydrology, understanding its ecosystem in its entirety, and making meaningful, science-based interventions for both flood mitigation and drought management. The key is to design and implement climate-resilient strategies for the city-region.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251006131048_9629bc03c2b04a9b14d1c3edc41ce0d620833f0900995516bbf7ff4784db4461.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251006131048_9629bc03c2b04a9b14d1c3edc41ce0d620833f0900995516bbf7ff4784db4461" data-rendition-name="original" width="607" height="239" loading="lazy" alt="Chennai 2023 flood"> <figcaption>A flooded Chennai in 2023.</figcaption> </figure>  TANK WATERSHEDS: UPSTREAM AND DOWNSTREAM Kancheepuram, Chengalpattu, and Tiruvallur districts together once had 1,942 and 1,646 irrigation tanks, some of them very large. These man-made tanks were created by constructing earthen embankments across streams that carried monsoon floods. They were ingeniously designed so that surplus water from an upstream tank would feed into the next one downstream, creating a cascading system of water storage. Today, however, these tanks are neglected—silted up, with broken bunds and damaged control structures. Catchment areas, floodplains, feeder channels, and even the tank water-spread areas have been encroached upon and degraded. The result is a double blow: the tanks now store very little water, while surface runoff is extremely high (over 80%). Together, this has left Chennai highly vulnerable to both floods and water scarcity. To minimise risks, the following steps are critical: - Study urban and peri-urban water dynamics to understand interconnected hydrological conditions. - Map all water bodies (around 4,000) spread across the 5,904 sq km of the proposed city region covering Tiruvallur, Chengalpattu, Kancheepuram, and parts of Ranipet districts. These areas are increasingly urbanised, making protection from encroachment urgent. - Protect catchment areas, inlet and surplus channels, foreshore zones (tank floodplains), and bunds while restoring missing links between tanks. - Restore water bodies to their original capacity—and, where feasible, even double the capacity—so that excess monsoon water can be captured and stored, substantially reducing runoff. - Prepare a comprehensive hydro-elevation (drainage) map covering upstream and downstream watersheds, linking Chennai and the sea. Such a systematic approach can revive the traditional tank system, reduce flood risks, and improve water security for Chennai and its surrounding districts. NATURAL FLOOD CARRIERS Chennai is geographically unique, and this is truly a blessing. The city is traversed by three major rivers—something no other city in India or South Asia can claim. The Kosasthalaiyar runs through North Chennai, the Cooum through Central Chennai, and the Adyar through the South; further south, the Palar carries additional flows. Each of these rivers also feeds numerous tanks before emptying into the Bay of Bengal. Adding to this network, the Buckingham Canal cuts across all four rivers near the coast. Unfortunately, these vital drainage systems are in poor condition due to heavy encroachments, particularly on their floodplains. Sludge and silt deposits have reduced their natural gradient and flow velocity. Though there have been several attempts to restore the rivers and the Buckingham Canal, progress has been limited. What these waterways need is sustained, year-round care and maintenance—not cosmetic “riverfront” or “canalfront” beautification projects. Beyond the major rivers, Chennai also depends on a network of macro and micro drains such as Okkiam Maduvu, Mambalam Canal, Velachery Canal, Kodungaiyur Drain, Otteri Nallah, Virugambakkam/Arumbakkam Canal, Veerangal Odai, Captain Cotton Canal, Villivakkam Canal, and many more. These too require consistent upkeep, alongside the city’s 3,600 km of stormwater drains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251006131044_22f8154105b0d533cfdff62a4164b9fa2caa4100fc1b6c56dcf6d32d3c031488.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251006131044_22f8154105b0d533cfdff62a4164b9fa2caa4100fc1b6c56dcf6d32d3c031488" data-rendition-name="original" width="897" height="711" loading="lazy" alt="Chennai map NT"> </figure>  REDISCOVERING FLOODS At the same time, we must acknowledge that Chennai’s urban expansion has been among the fastest in the country. Expansion is irreversible, and if left unregulated, it can be disastrous.&nbsp; When the city limits were extended from 174 sq km to 426 sq km, and the Chennai Metropolitan Area (CMA) to 1,189 sq km, little attention was paid to protecting ecological hotspots in the newly added zones. As a result, many lakes and ponds have been lost, while most of the Pallikaranai marshland and coastal wetlands have been encroached upon. The Chennai Metropolitan Development Authority (CMDA) originally planned to expand the CMA from 1,189 to 5,904 sq km—covering the entire districts of Tiruvallur, Chengalpattu, Kancheepuram, and parts of Ranipet under the III Master Plan. But, now the CMA has decided not to expand the area but perhaps intends to go for vertical development with a higher floor space index (FSI).&nbsp; Increasing the FSI and opting to go vertical development will have very serious consequences for stormwater drainage as well as sewage management, mainly because of increasing population density.&nbsp; At the very least, and at least now, the CMDA must identify and notify ecological hotspots, protecting the existing 4,000 lakes, floodplains, forests, major drains, flood buffers, and wetlands is essential. Without this, the city will once again find itself hiding behind climate change as an excuse for accumulated planning and development failures Chennai city, like many other urban regions, can be permanently made less risky from floods while also ensuring round-the-clock water supply even in drought years—if the measures outlined above are implemented with utmost commitment. This is the essence of turning disaster into opportunity.&nbsp; Yet, such possibilities stand in stark contrast to today’s dominant model of global growth, which is not merely extractive but aggressively competitive, accelerating capital concentration and reducing elected governments to mere instruments of corporate power. In its wake, land, water, and air are ravaged, biodiversity is shredded, and human suffering deepens.&nbsp; These models hardly address the well-being of the people and the sustainability of development. As a result, what one encounters is the increasing economic inequality, erosion of natural resources, and increasing ecological imbalances. The catastrophic urban floods we now witness are thus part of this same trajectory, rooted in the mismanagement of key natural resources such as land, water, and ecological hotspots like forests, wetlands and riverbanks. Furthermore, there is an absolute lack of coordination among urban land use planners, real estate developers, municipal authorities, and key water resources departments. These corrective measures are most critical to save the cities from floods. Republished from the <a href="https://soanas.org/rediscovering-floods/" target="_blank">original</a> on the South Asia Nadi Sambad (SOANAS).

Lessons for Nepal from the Chennai floods

The annual United Nations General Assembly is always an occasion for taking stock of the state of the world. But this year, on the 80th anniversary of the UN’s founding, it was also an occasion to take stock of the organisation itself.
By any measure, the UN’s situation is dire. While Russian aggression against Ukraine and mounting tensions between the United States and China cannot be blamed on the UN, they do highlight a fundamental problem. The UN Security Council – where China, Russia, and the US each wield a veto – is locked in a permanent confrontation over one issue or another, blocking the rest of the organisation from moving forward on almost anything.
Consider the situation in the Middle East, where the UN has played a central role in conflict resolution and peacemaking ever since the State of Israel was established (under a UN resolution). Numerous UN peacekeeping operations in the region have helped to alleviate tensions, and massive humanitarian efforts, primarily aimed at Palestinian refugee communities, have saved countless lives. While the UN has not forged a lasting peace, it has certainly helped prevent some wars and shorten others.
In recent years, however, the UN has increasingly been sidelined. The so-called Quartet – the UN, the US, the European Union, and Russia – is now a distant memory, and numerous UN operations have come under direct attack, primarily by Israel. The Israeli government not only questions the humanitarian efforts of UNRWA (the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees) but now also blocks the organisation’s work whenever it can.
Before Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attack on Israel, the UN was essential to keeping the situation in Gaza relatively stable. Though it couldn’t overcome divisions among the Palestinians, especially after Hamas assumed power in Gaza in 2006, it could, and did, help provide the basic means of survival for the enclave’s two million people. But now Israel has questioned or attacked virtually every aspect of the UN’s work on this issue, and it could not have done so without America’s tacit support. US President Donald Trump, in particular, has proved willing to accept virtually everything that Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s extremist government does.
Meanwhile, the UN has struggled to mobilise an effective response in South Sudan, a semi-failed state, and in Sudan, where a devastating civil war is entering its third year. Similarly, from the Katanga secession in 1960-63 to the recent peace operations in northeastern Congo, Central Africa continues to preoccupy UN peacekeepers and mediators.
Around the world, there is no shortage of crises that demand UN engagement – from Gaza and Sudan to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Haiti, Myanmar, and Afghanistan, to name just a few. But with the larger powers fixated on their confrontations with one another, and with the Trump administration withdrawing not only active support but also funding, the outlook for the UN appears grim.
The US provides 25% of UN funding, but it has <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/united-nations-must-adapt-or-die-by-adekeye-adebajo-2025-09" target="_blank">stopped</a> sending its contributions. It also traditionally accounts for an even larger share of voluntary financing for humanitarian operations, but these funds, too, have been cut. Making matters worse, China, the UN’s second-largest contributor, is also behind on its payments.
With its financial situation growing desperate, UN Secretary-General <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/antonio-guterres" target="_blank">António Guterres</a> warns that staff across the organisation will need to be cut by <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/sep/18/united-nations-un-2026-budget-job-losses-us-funding-cuts" target="_blank">one-fifth</a>. Morale is said to be low, as is the prospect of a change for the better. With his recent address to the General Assembly, Trump made clear that he has nothing but contempt for the organisation. The only role he seems able to see for it is to help him get a Nobel Peace Prize. The Trump administration’s forthcoming review of America’s multilateral commitments is almost certain to deliver more bad news.
Does the UN have any future? While the demand for it is as great as ever, its ability to deliver has obviously been diminished. There is no way for it to survive without scaling back its ambitions and abilities; precisely how it goes about this will be a central issue over the next few years.
With Guterres’s tenure ending in 2026, the process of selecting his successor will also have to feature a debate about ensuring the UN’s long-term survival. Moving the headquarters out of the US is a natural step, owing not only to the withdrawal of US funding and the need for cost savings, but also to the US refusal to grant visas to those attending UN gatherings (as it did with the Palestinian leadership this year).
Yes, a UN that is no longer headquartered in New York would be different in many ways. But relocation also may be the only way for it to survive. Dag Hammarskjöld, the UN’s second secretary-general, famously <a href="https://ask.un.org/faq/14623" target="_blank">remarked</a> that the body was not created to deliver Heaven, but rather to spare us from Hell. That task remains as important as ever. But for things to stay the same, everything must change. © Project Syndicate
Carl Bildt is a former prime minister and foreign minister of Sweden.

To survive, the UN must leave the US

Nepali Times #1281

Edmund Hillary once said that the Sherpa were the most researched, dissected and blood-taken ethnic group in the world. Living below the highest mountains in the world, the trans-Himalayan traders were genetically adapted to high altitude, their culture spanning both sides of the border, and with average per capita income of the Khumbu five times that of the rest of Nepal. But there are other less-known Sherpas in Nepal’s periphery: in the Langtang, Barun and Rolwaling valleys.&nbsp; Norwegian mountaineer Jon Gangdal’s latest book, Guilt &amp; Glory: Climbing with Sherpas is about his deep personal and four-decade long association with his climbing partners from Rolwaling. Guilt &amp; Glory reads more like Gangdal’s memoir and the mountains he has climbed, but it is also a tribute to the selfless friendship with fellow climbers from Nepal. It also exposes the inherently asymmetric relationship between expeditions and their employees in the Himalaya. Earlier mountaineering narratives overlooked the role of Nepal’s climbing guides in putting their clients on summits. But in recent years there has been increasing recognition that most expeditions would just not be possible without them. SUMMIT SUPPORT And that is where Gangdal’s book fits in: between the glory of a successful summit and guilt about not giving due credit to the sacrifice and professionalism of a people whose surname and ethnicity is now a synonym for support staff of G-7 Summits. After failure and tragedy on a 1994 expedition on Everest West Ridge in which his climbing partner Mingma Norbu was killed in an avalanche, Gangdal is tormented by guilt and supports his widow Ang Sona and her family. ‘The Art of Succeeding When You Have Failed’ was the title of his lecture series in which Gangdal became an outspoken critic of military-style assaults on Himalayan peaks, and self-seeking climbers on them. In a comment he wrote for <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/everest-dangerous-place-to-work,1316" target="_blank">Nepali Times in #704 in 2014 </a>after an avalanche killed 16 Nepali guides on the Khumbu Icefall, he argued that equality and safety of climbing Sherpas could only happen ‘if we turn the whole Everest pyramid upside down’. He wrote: ‘We can feel nothing but grief and pain with the families of the brave boys who gave their lives for … for what? For the glory of their nation, like at war? For the glory of their attention-seeking sahibs who have had the highest mountains in the world as their playground for more than a century? Or for what we all have to do: our daily duty to feed ourselves and our families.’ Guilt &amp; Glory expands on that theme, weaving in his climbing adventures. He realises that the egalitarian Norwegian approach in decision-making does not work in the East’ where the prevalent notion is that a leader should lead. Gangdal notes that with a few tweaks, the twain of East and West can indeed meet. In 1996 on the north face of Everest while a major tragedy was unfolding on the Nepal side, Gangdal tries to ‘play Sherpa’ hauling twice the load of his Sherpa companions and is knocked out with exhaustion and has to abandon the climb. Climbers have often justified not helping fellow climbers in distress in the Death Zone saying that ethics at sea level do not apply at eight thousand metres high on a mountain. But Gangdal quotes expedition doctor Morten Rostrup: ‘When you pass climbers who are sick or in danger on the way to the summit, you should always do something … continuing to the summit shows a lack of humanity.’ Foreign climbers are on top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and in a monastery below Manaslu, Gangdal once held a long one-sided discussion with the abbott on why people’s basic needs need to be met before higher aspirations can be pursued. The asymmetry in the relation between sahibs and porters is less glaring than it used to be. Many mountaineers have struck life-long friendships with bonds with their employees and their families in Nepal. And, as Gangdal writes, ‘Education … has helped reduce the asymmetry between the Sherpa people and us foreign climbers.’ Unlike other books about Himalayan mountaineering &nbsp;this one focuses on the Rolwaling, the less visited and wilder valley in the shadow of Gauri Shankar, and protected by the goddess Tseringma.&nbsp; Noted Rolwaling Sherpas include Chhiring Dorje who made the heroic rescue on K2 in 2008, Dawa Yangzum, the first Nepali woman to summit all 14 eight-thousanders, Tamting Sherpa who has also climbed all 8,000m peaks, TGemba Tsheri who became the youngest person to climb Everst at age 16 in 2001. <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/power-of-the-periphery/deep-ecologists/75228182BC490F8AC31C8E4C8335F435" target="_blank">Rolwaling also has a strong Norwegian connection</a>, it is where <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2009/jan/15/obituary-arne-naess" target="_blank">Arne Næss</a> who coined the term ‘deep ecology’, and mountaineer and eco-philosopher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/norway-nepal-a-love-story" target="_blank">Sigmund Kvaløy</a> did their research and exploration in 1971.&nbsp; There is one interesting tidbit with contemporary non-mountaineering relevance from Guilt &amp; Glory: Næss and Kvaløy’s Rowaling research was bankrolled by Arne’s brother Erling Dekke Næss, a Norwegian shipping magnate. But Rolwaling was a restricted area in those days because of Khampa activity, and the Norwegians approached Prince Gyanendra who granted them permission in return for setting up the Royal Nepal Shipping Corporation. Gyanendra became chair of that controversial company and Erling Næss was adviser. Guilt &amp; Glory is not just about mountaineering, and is sprinkled with anecdotes and encounters with everything from Maoists to yetis. It is written with compassion and a deep respect for Nepal and its people.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111028_3fd1da00a1362a6c3f07807ec55b9e5d9163c11fb759aa09530a5ea486751d24.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017111028_3fd1da00a1362a6c3f07807ec55b9e5d9163c11fb759aa09530a5ea486751d24" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Guilt &amp; Glory book"> </figure>

West meets East in the Himalaya

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

Kathmandu: A Reader, the latest publication from Martin Chautari, is an anthology of anthropological essays exploring Kathmandu through various lenses across the 21st century. This compilation is edited by Benjamin Linder and attempts to bring modern discourses on Kathmandu and its urbanity together, in a single volume. The book is divided into three sections: the physical form of the city, the imprints it bears from past political upheavals, and the complexity in the lives of its people. The book examines these diverse aspects, leaving readers who have just witnessed the momentous events of September with anxiety, and perhaps a greater understanding of Kathmandu’s context. Urban planning expert Biresh Shah’s discourse on the Valley’s urban sprawl and its landmarks is insightful, but also prophetic when he warns about seismic risk.&nbsp; Jan Brunson’s chapter on female mobility in Kathmandu via scooters is more optimistic, suggesting small-scale, daily-life movements in Kathmandu transform the city for its various demographics — in this case young women.&nbsp; Linder himself contributes with a discourse on the toponymy of Thamel, close-reading Kathmandu’s tourist hub through the usage and understanding of its name over the ages. MYTHBUSTERS The book is a collage of pieces held together by a thread that runs through the chapters of a vibrant, bustling image of the Valley. One common theme is Linder’s attempt to expand on common understandings and urban myths about Kathmandu. Readers who have spent time in the city will relate to the many anecdotes. for example, Niels Gutschow bringing up the lack of open spaces, or Mark Liechty mentioning restaurants in Kathmandu being melting pots of cultures and castes.&nbsp; The essays here further extend these urban legends by giving historical and anthropological contexts. In-migration and the rise in land prices have led to shrinking open spaces, the creation of cosmopolitan food outlets, and even hubs for sex workers. The Bagmati cleanliness campaign extends to a past understanding of the Bagmati Civilisation. Urban myths become puzzles to be solved by connecting the various threads of discussion across the book. The sections in Kathmandu: A Reader are all by experts in their various fields and present a holistic, well-rounded picture. Yet, it is obvious there is still more ground to cover, more themes to explore — perhaps by more Nepali scholars.&nbsp; In his introduction, Linder admits that due to practical reasons, ‘many wonderful works were left on the cutting room floor’. That is a pity. Indeed, there could have been more discourse on the changing ethnic composition of Kathmandu. A close-read into the lives of people termed as ‘outsiders’ but forming a growing slice of the population would be important to also chart future trends. &nbsp; The religious importance of Kathmandu as a unique civilisational alloy forged by melding the Hindu and Buddhist faiths can be explored more too. One can imagine a future edition including an examination of the post-Covid era Kathmandu valley.&nbsp; This need to broaden the ethnographic literature on Kathmandu becomes more apparent because 11 out of the 15 essays here are written by non-Nepali scholars, including the entire section focusing on urban cultural politics. Linder explains in his introduction that this was largely due to the community of academics in Nepali urban studies being fairly small. Kathmandu: A Reader then becomes even more integral as a gateway for new authors looking to work in the space of urban research on the Valley — undergraduates in the humanities for future theses and research ideas.&nbsp; In a time when Kathmandu is littered with new exam coaching centres for medical and engineering students, an anthology like this helps remind young scholars that there is plenty of scope for qualitative research in the social sciences. Sabin Ninglekhu’s discourse on the sukumbasi and aesthetics in Kathmandu are reminders that stories and academic journeys can be inspired from one’s surroundings. Kathmandu: A Reader has a good balance between academic and lighter readings, and is almost encyclopaedic in nature. There is even content about Kathmandu’s gangsters and scooty girls — allowing readers to venture deeper into their milieu.&nbsp; Kshitiz Pratap Shah is a recent graduate in English from Ashoka University.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251002051016_c8ce28ecfd0dde4986023822b3d40360ead97d29b7f186f6494d8da67021c5a5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251002051016_c8ce28ecfd0dde4986023822b3d40360ead97d29b7f186f6494d8da67021c5a5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmanu a reader"> </figure>

A reader for Kathmandu

Three out of every four cars Nepalis buy is now an electric one, a huge step in reducing air pollution and the country’s dependence on imported petroleum.&nbsp; However, 80% of existing vehicles are still two-wheelers, scooters or bikes, and these still overwhelmingly run on petrol. All that may also soon be changing.&nbsp; There are an estimated 1.3 million two-wheelers in Kathmandu Valley, which has a population of 3.5 million. They are the preferred mode of transport because of affordability, mobility, ease of repair with spare parts and mechanics readily available.&nbsp; And in the past two years, two-wheelers have also transformed transportation with &nbsp;ride-sharing companies, food delivery, and e-commerce companies.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017051052_6eb22dda0470f32f72e8947eb6876b40c02b8be3229ffe2473f711ca2f9d09dc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251017051052_6eb22dda0470f32f72e8947eb6876b40c02b8be3229ffe2473f711ca2f9d09dc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1491" height="976" loading="lazy" alt="electric scooters in Nepal"> </figure>  Motorcycles even played a big part in the 8-9 September protests, when demonstrators tore through streets looking for targets. The controversial TOB biker’s group was noisily patrolling the Mandala-Baneswar stretch, exhorting the GenZ rally. Many bikes were parked inside the Parliament compound, and social media posts show motorbikes revving hard right up to the steps of the Parliament building.&nbsp; While dirty exhaust from diesel trucks and buses are readily visible, the emissions from two-wheelers are unseen and odourless with carbon monoxide, ozone and other toxic gases adding to the Valley’s hazardous air quality.&nbsp; The next big step to clean up the air and make personal mobility more sustainable would be a switch to e-scooters and e-bikes and bump up their sale rates to EV levels. “The public mentality about electric two-wheelers is flipping,” says Bijen Koirala, at <a href="https://yadea.com.np/" target="_blank">Yadea</a> e-scooters Nepal. “People were sceptical about them but now trusted brands are involved. Over the next several years, expect a majority of scooters will be electric.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017051048_3c1856eba1eba17337dfd5d99ed477e9dbbb3b52c8a347d91f1a95b65033c551.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251017051048_3c1856eba1eba17337dfd5d99ed477e9dbbb3b52c8a347d91f1a95b65033c551" data-rendition-name="original" width="1097" height="892" loading="lazy" alt="electric scooters in Nepal"> </figure>  Yadea is a Chinese manufacturer of electric bicycles, motorcycles, and scooters, and has a large and expanding presence across Asia, and in Nepal it sells five e-scooter models ranging in price from Rs175,000 to Rs370,000.&nbsp; This range is exactly competitive with brand new petrol scooters from Honda, Yamaha, or Vespa. However, scooters can be bought second hand for under Rs100k. Koirala says an e-scooter would save customers close to Rs1.1 million over six years based on riders doing 90km a day using Rs500 worth of petrol. The same distance would only cost Rs27 worth of electricity.&nbsp; However, while 90kms might be a reasonable estimate for individuals who drive for ride-share or delivery serviced for a living, most Kathmandu commuters do not need that range and that is why Yadea is aiming for that market segment. “One of the main concerns customers have about electric vehicles is range,” Koirala explains. “But most commuters travel a maximum of 60km a day, which e-scooters can do easily.” Notably, the Yadea E8S Pro is billed at 150km, and according to Koirala, is consistently getting at least 110km on Kathmandu roads.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017051048_594fe45b3e74741784ca0b2af68f17684ce448c12db50ccfd919171b41448891.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251017051048_594fe45b3e74741784ca0b2af68f17684ce448c12db50ccfd919171b41448891" data-rendition-name="original" width="1300" height="997" loading="lazy" alt="electric scooters in Nepal"> </figure>  Another concern is after-sales service, battery life, resale value, availability of parts. It could be a matter of time. He points to the electric four-wheelers, and how markets for their resell and maintenance have grown over the last years as they became so prevalent.&nbsp; Petrol bikes will retain their popularity, at least in the near future, because many people use them for inter-city travel to Chitwan or Pokhara, and the 100cc bikes are still primary vehicles for most families. A recent boost in interest in e-scooters can be explained by two consecutive auto shows, NADA and NAIMA in August. A new player in the e-scooter market is Bajaj which launched its Chetak model after NAIMA, and is conducting trial sales only inside the Valley. Chetak hopes to win buyers over with its design. Says Rameshwor Ghimire at Bajaj: “We surveyed customers and found out that to to 80% of them were turned off with e-scooters because of how they &nbsp;looked and how they were built like toys.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017051048_f6bd23d0719bcf0b6cca998d949936754f335b30dae44e3691b6d10b10c14621.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017051048_f6bd23d0719bcf0b6cca998d949936754f335b30dae44e3691b6d10b10c14621" data-rendition-name="original" width="1468" height="1008" loading="lazy" alt="electric scooters in Nepal"> </figure>  The Chetak has a fully metal body and looks no different from a petrol scooter, although there is a slight learning curve -- especially with the abrupt braking. For the average Kathmandu user riding 20-25km a day, using an e-scooter saves Rs70,000 in fuel every year. Ghimire says the other plus point is that the Chetak is about Rs60,000 cheaper than other Indian e-scooters with similar real range.&nbsp; At NAIMA, another e-scooter import, <a href="https://atherenergy.com.np/" target="_blank">Ather</a>, launched the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ather_Rizta" target="_blank">Rizta</a>. Suryansh Vaidya, CEO of Ather’s parent company Vaidya Energy, was pleasantly surprised by how well the model did at the autoshows, given that it was a ‘family’ scooter close to Rs400k, optimised for storage space rather than performance.&nbsp; “We’re having some trouble understanding the Nepali market,” admits Vaidya, “it isn’t clear why the most expensive variant would be the best selling, perhaps people are just willing to stretch their budgets when they buy.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017051052_0a769e559c2e22228b2513a5404bacd7da50ec8e9d5b15f7a29dcee0aa0e9b15.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251017051052_0a769e559c2e22228b2513a5404bacd7da50ec8e9d5b15f7a29dcee0aa0e9b15" data-rendition-name="original" width="1653" height="988" loading="lazy" alt="electric scooters in Nepal"> </figure>  Generally, the scooters that do well in Nepal are more energy-efficient, ‘performance’ scooters. But Vaidya points to four factors holding back e-scooter adoption: charging infrastructure, resale value, servicing, and less trust in the battery. Ather, he says, is trying to improve on all fronts.&nbsp; Ather open sources its plug points to encourage more uniform chargers like it is with four-wheel EVs. At the moment, manufacturers use different charges. For servicing, Ather looks to establish service centres across the nation.&nbsp; An obstacle there is that mechanics have to usually be trained from scratch. “We hire technicians right out of college, and start them on a 1-2 month long training,” says Vaidya. He points out that for EVs, mechanics must know both the hardware and the software of the vehicle.&nbsp; But e-bikes need a lot more engineering to give them more effective range at affordable prices to make them popular. At the moment, electric motorcycles are expensive and are sold mostly as sports bikes.&nbsp; But there is hope. Says Vaidya: “That is the strategy Tesla went with early in their life as a company, and look at them now. With the state of new battery research and development, it may happen sooner than later.”

Two wheels good, electric even better

Nepali Times: You just climbed Mt Everest without oxygen and then skied down the mountain. How does one even train for something like that?&nbsp; Andrzej Bargiel: What made skiing down Everest possible was all the years of experience I’ve gained in high-altitude mountains. Spending a lot of time in the high mountains helps me read the snow, the conditions, and potential hazards. I need to ski often, especially in steep and exposed terrain, so that it becomes a place where I feel completely at home.&nbsp; I also climb regularly, I am an IFMGA mountain guide. I also run, ride a bike, and work out in the gym. Like in any endurance sport, I have to prepare my body for the demands of an expedition.&nbsp; What motivated you to do Everest? This was actually my third attempt on Everest. After many years of ski mountaineering and racing, I felt it would be great to use that experience to take on a meaningful project in the Himalaya. It’s about exploring what’s really possible, testing my limits, and seeing how far I can go. I was inspired by people like Davo Karničar, Fredrik Ericsson, and Hans Kammerlander, who showed that skiing in the high mountains can truly be done.&nbsp; What do you have to be most careful about when skiing at such high altitude? You really have to manage your energy well, because you need to be ready to spend many hours at very high altitude — even above 8,000 meters. Risk management is essential. You have to read the signals nature gives you and make the right decisions, choosing safe moments to move. The dangers are always there: avalanches, crevasses, extreme fatigue, and exposed terrain, so you have to stay fully aware and focused. Safety comes first, always. You also need to stay open to changing your plans, because in the mountains, things don’t always go the way you expect.&nbsp; Why did you choose autumn and not spring?&nbsp; Autumn is really the only season when you can think about making a full ski descent from the summit all the way to base camp. In the spring there’s much more ice left after winter, and the snow cover is broken. A full descent simply isn’t possible then, because too much rock and ice are exposed. Of course, in spring it’s easier to climb the mountain. The conditions are more stable, the snow is firmer, there’s less avalanche risk, and you don’t have to wade through deep snow. The autumn ascent is very complex and demanding, which is why so few expeditions attempt it. But in autumn, skiing becomes possible. Several meters of fresh snow fall on Everest’s slopes, covering the rocks and ice, and that transforms the mountain into something wild, beautiful, and most importantly skiable. What was your favourite part this time? The moment I remember most fondly was reaching the summit — and that first stretch just below the top, when I clicked into my skis and started moving down through surprisingly nice snow. It felt smooth and natural, a kind of free, easy glide down toward the Hillary Step. I could feel the movement, the flow, and at the same time this awareness that I was skiing from the highest point on Earth. It was just a really good feeling. The Icefall was another special moment. I felt from a skier’s point of view that it really worked. I could make my turns, and the descent itself was fun, technical, but a beautiful one too — full of variety, weaving through ice towers and seracs that looked incredible in the sunlight. It was challenging, but also just pure joy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Andrzej Bargiel NT"> </figure>  And what was most challenging? The hardest moment came on 14 September, during our first summit push attempt. We were breaking trail in deep snow and reached the South Col in the evening. I already knew we wouldn’t be going higher that night, so I decided to stay there, to use the climb to acclimatise.&nbsp; But after that attempt failed, the team completely lost faith that the project could still succeed. Almost everyone started packing up, convinced it was over, nobody thought that the snow would stabilise enough.&nbsp; I skied down from the Col early the next morning in really good conditions, while the rest of the team descended on foot. Rebuilding belief within the team that it could still be done was the toughest part, mentally. It took me several days to bring that energy and motivation back, to make everyone believe again that we could try once more. What was your support crew like?&nbsp; I want to thank the whole team — all team members from Poland, all those who contributed to the project, all the sponsors, and the Seven Summit Treks crew, especially Dawa Sherpa, who had the courage to go to the top with me.&nbsp; In the end, his courage made it possible. Doing it alone would have been almost impossible. With him there, I felt safe, and that made all the difference. What potential for skiing do you see in the Himalaya?&nbsp; Huge. There’s massive potential here both for ski touring and for a more recreational form of skiing. In the Himalaya, there are so many mountains you can ski from, and they don’t have to be eight-thousanders.&nbsp; There is an incredible amount of snow even in the lower valleys during the winter, which makes it a really interesting place for skiing. You can find great powder and enjoy long, wide runs.&nbsp; The key, I think, is to keep developing local guiding structures. There should be more certified guides in Nepal, Sherpas gaining guiding qualifications, and a proper professional rescue service. That would definitely increase the sense of safety for both skiers and tourists coming to the mountains. I’d love to come back to the Himalayas one winter just to ski in those lower parts — in deep snow, on much longer and wider skis – that would be pure pleasure. At those lower altitudes, the fun can be so much greater, with a more relaxed, freeride kind of feeling.

The man who skied down Everest

In front of the ashes of what used to be Ward 8 of Harion village, a crowd gathers. Two men are talking in Maithili: “They say they want to get rid of the provinces.’&nbsp; The men were not part of the protests on 8-9 September, and have followed the news about some GenZ protesters wanting to abolish the 2015 federal republican Constitution that led to the establishment of Madhes Province.&nbsp; Barely three weeks later, communal clashes broke out 70km away in Janakpur during a Durga immersion festival over Dasain, and a curfew had to be imposed. The Tarai districts along the Indian border with Hindu and Muslim communities have become chronic flashpoints for tension.&nbsp; Between these two towns connected by the East–West Highway, the communal tension sits uneasily alongside earlier unfulfilled demands for provincial autonomy and at a deeper level the very idea of what it means to be a Nepali. It is notable that many Madhesi political leaders who have been quick to protest against Kathmandu for greater decision-making powers under federalism have been more hesitant to address the religious tension within their constituencies.&nbsp; This has led to criticism that the Madhes Movement’s promise of inclusion faltered when it came to protecting caste, ethnic and religious minorities. Muslims of the plains had supported the broader call for autonomy and Muslim activists were among those killed in various Madhes Movements. Yet, they now find themselves caught up in rising Hindu majoritarian sentiments. Political analyst C K Lal has warned in his writings that continued ‘othering’ of the largest minority group in the Madhes could tear apart the province’s social fabric unless deliberate efforts are made to foster dialogue and trust. The Tarai plains are home to 53% of Nepal’s population, and Madhes Province is the most densely populated region of Nepal. It holds a mosaic of identities, ethnic and caste groups. Muslims make up 12% of the province's little over 6.3 million population. Many of these groups share cultural and family ties with communities across the border.&nbsp; Then there are the indigenous Tharu and Rajbanshi, and Pahadi communities who do not identify as Madhesi. There is a distinction about who is ‘Madhesi’ and who is a mere ‘Madhesbasi’. &nbsp;There are those who were moved down in state-sponsored trans-location from the mountains to the plains in the past century, settlers from India, and those who have moved south to the plains for an easier life. The Madhes has hosted a rich tapestry of identities that have mostly coexisted peacefully. There are temples and mosques on the same streets, their calls for prayer often overlapping. The Malangbaba temple in the headquarter in Sarlahi was built to honour a Sufi figure and is revered equally by Hindus and Muslims in an annual fair in March.&nbsp; This diversity in Madhes Province and the Tarai in general also means competing political interests, and occasional friction. Caste divisions add to the complexity: with entrenched hierarchy within Hindu communities. Dalits form 15% of the Madhesh Province population and feel excluded despite the movement for political autonomy. The Madhesi identity is therefore pluralistic, and the Madhes Movement tried to encapsulate different groups for one political cause, although not quite successfully. The layers of othering that excludes Madhes from mainstream politics of Nepal is replicated inside the politics of Madhes as it fails to proportionally represent Muslims and other secluded groups. MADHES GENZ Despite the lingering effects of exclusion by the Nepali state, young Madhesis also joined the GenZ protests last month in a renewed attempt to make their voice heard.&nbsp; “In essence the GenZ protest had resonance because it captured the frustrations of &nbsp;Madhes and dissatisfaction against a corrupt system,” says GenZ activist Nancy Yadav.&nbsp; The protests on 8-9 September led to widespread destruction across the province, with 90 police posts, 207 government offices and dozens of vehicles set ablaze or vandalised. &nbsp; Imran Khan, 23, drives a rickshaw in Harion and says the Madhesi people are used to protests, but this is the first time he found his own peers also engaged in a political rally.&nbsp; “We talk more about politics now than before,” he says. “The GenZ wanted their rally to be peaceful, but somehow old political players caused more damage than good.”&nbsp; Aayush Karna in Janakpur concurs: “The youth here also marched alongside all of Nepal to demand for corruption free and a more just Nepal. But we were shocked on the second day to see how much damage was done so rapidly. Like the GenZ in Kathmandu the movement was hijacked, and that was not what the GenZ wanted.” SAME PAGE&nbsp; Nepal adopted its federal Constitution in 2015 to address decades of exclusion by Kathmandu, decentralise political power and give the Madhes and its minorities a political home.&nbsp; A decade later, the promise feels thin. In mainstream media in Kathmandu the Madhes is still peripheral, and often appears in the news lineup only in moments of crisis, floods, protests, or communal violence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101411108_9691e252b5ce723b6922f88418caa3eda43e02fba1a65c19043b1fd6ea10c7e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101411108_9691e252b5ce723b6922f88418caa3eda43e02fba1a65c19043b1fd6ea10c7e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2480" height="1715" loading="lazy" alt="Birjang"> <figcaption>A commercial hub and the road gateway to Nepal, Birganj though which 80% of the country's exports and imports pass through.</figcaption> </figure>  When the interim Constitution of Nepal was promulgated with no mention of federal restructuring in January 2007, Madhesi leader Upendra Yadav and his Madhesi Janadhikar Forum burnt copies of the charter and launched an indefinite strike across the southern Tarai in protest, blocking the East-West Highway and organising mass rallies for weeks. After several people were killed in Siraha and other districts, Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala agreed to an amendment of the Constitution to commit to a federal state structure. In early 2008, another uprising under the leadership of Mahanta Thakur was underway demanding concessions on electoral representation and to keep the push for federal restructuring on the forefront of the agenda. The loudest of all dissent from the Madhes towards the state was after the Constitution was promulgated in 2015. Rajendra Mahato set it alight in front of a crowd of supporters, declaring the document illegitimate and anti-Madhes. At least 45 people were killed between August and September as protests spread across the Tarai.&nbsp; The protesters demanded fair and inclusive representation of Madhes in state institutions, security forces, and the bureaucracy, reflecting their population share. They demanded the redrawing of&nbsp; Provincial boundaries to create a contiguous Madhes province stretching the full length of the Tarai from east to west, and electoral constituency delimitation based primarily on population rather than geography, ensuring densely populated plains weren’t underrepresented.&nbsp; They sought reform of citizenship laws, especially those restricting children of Nepali women married to foreigners, and formal recognition of Madhesi identity and cultural rights within the Constitution. Protesters stopped fuel tankers and cargo trucks at key border crossings like Birganj-Raxaul, cutting off the lifeline of a country still reeling from the earthquake. What began as a political dispute soon became a national crisis, and the unofficial blockade left hospitals without medicines and cities without fuel. India was accused of tacitly &nbsp;supporting the border blockade, deepening Kathmandu’s resentment.&nbsp; As shortages grew and international pressure mounted, the government finally yielded in January 2016, passing constitutional amendments on inclusion and representation. Only then, after nearly five months of paralysis was the blockade lifted.&nbsp; The Madhes Movemets of 1007, 2008 and 2015 is often flattened into ‘ethnic unrest’. The state’s lens rarely distinguishes between demands for dignity and threats to stability. When the state securitises dissent instead of understanding it, frustrations can mutate into sectarian anger. Communal tension becomes the grammar through which deeper political discontent expresses itself. “Inclusion is not a favour to the people of the Madhes, it is a right,” says GenZ activist Prerana Paswan. “When people speak of dismantling federalism are we being asked to step back from the GenZ movement?” There are various political parties calling for federalism to be scrapped because it is too costly, decentralised corruption, and that provinces are just proxies for the central parties. “But the need for federalism and provincial structures is more about addressing the country’s diversity and devolving power from Kathmandu,” says GenZ activist Bikashkumar Gupta. The Constitution acknowledges that Nepal is a multiethnic, multilingual, and multicultural state. . Provinces like the Madhes can promote their regional languages (Maithili, Bhojpuri, Awadhi) and cultural traditions alongside Nepali.&nbsp; Federalism has given symbolic and constitutional legitimacy to Nepal’s plural identity and represents a psychological and political acknowledgment that Nepal is not a single homogeneous state. For the Madhes, in particular, federalism represents a shift at least on paper in looking at the people of the region. “The Madhesi people will yet again be forced to take to the street if federalism is dismantled,” said a member of the Janata Samajwadi Party in Sarlahi who did not want to be identified. “We will not go back to being unseen by the Nepali state again.” Federal structures needs to be given more power over decision-making and revenue collection. Whether the next generation of Madhesis inherit mistrust or solidarity depends on whether their aspirations are met. The GenZ chants in Kathmandu and the curfew in Janakpur are not separate stories. They are different dialects of the same question: who gets to belong in Nepal’s democracy?

Unfinished federalism in Madhes Province

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/waiting-for-bipin-joshi" target="_blank">Nepali student Bipin Joshi</a>, who was taken captive by Hamas on 7 October 2023, was not on the list of those freed following the end of the bombardment and fighting in Gaza.&nbsp; On Monday morning, the Israeli military notified Bipin's family and Nepal’s ambassador to Israel Dhan Prasad Pandit, that there is no evidence of him still being alive. However, Nepal's Foreign Ministry is yet to be notified by Israel's government of Bipin's status. The news came three days after a US-brokered ceasefire between Israel and Hamas came into effect, and hostage and prisoner exchanges by the two sides started Monday morning.&nbsp; Almost 2,000 Palestinians held in Israeli prisions are expected to be released by Israel in exchange for the hostages during the next phase of the peace deal between the two parties, and the bodies of deceased hostages remaining in Gaza are also expected to be returned.&nbsp; Bipin Joshi was among a group of Nepalis who had arrived in Israel in 2023 just weeks before 7 October 2023 as part of a ‘learn and earn’ program to work and earn in kibbutz farms there.&nbsp; Along with other students Joshi had been working on a farm in Kibbutz Alumim in southern Israel near Gaza. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/war-in-israel-earthquake-and-grief-in-nepal">Ten Nepali students were killed </a>while taking cover in shelters near their farms in two separate attacks by Hamas fighters.&nbsp; Joshi’s colleagues, fellow Nepalis who survived the attack, recall gunmen lobbing two grenades into the bunker that they had taken cover in. Bipin hurled one of the grenades out, they say, but the other one exploded, killing and injuring Nepalis inside. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Shortly after, Bipin was captured by Hamas along with a Thai national and led away into Gaza. CCTV footage showed Bipin alive and at a hospital in Gaza on the day of the attack itself after he was taken hostage.&nbsp; Thirty-one Thai citizens, who like Nepalis worked in farms in Israel, were taken hostage during the Hamas attack, the highest number of foreign captives in October 2023.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deft-diplomacy-freed-thai-hostages">Deft Thai diplomatic engagement</a> with officials from Iran, Egypt, and Qatar brought about the release of 23 of its nationals in 2023. Five more Thai nationals were released earlier this year.&nbsp; In August, Joshi’s family visited Israel at the invitation of the government and urged the international community to push for his return. Bipin’s mother Padma and sister Pushpa have been at the United Nations to lobby for his release.&nbsp; His family last week also released a video clip of Bipin briefly speaking on camera, reportedly obtained by Israel and said to be filmed in November 2023, around a month after he was taken captive. Joshi looks healthy in that video.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251013091028_d551c7f88204c52217152fb5db655bb5a5f8bf2cff1e6a055326ebf64453ff9f.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251013091028_d551c7f88204c52217152fb5db655bb5a5f8bf2cff1e6a055326ebf64453ff9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2848" height="1528" loading="lazy" alt="Bipin Joshi NT"> </figure>  More than 67,000 Palestinians have been killed during the last two years of the genocide in Gaza. About 1,200 people were killed during the Hamas attack on 7 October 2023, while more than 251, including Bipin Joshi, were taken as captives.&nbsp; This is the third ceasefire implemented in Gaza since 7 October 2023 after previous ones in November 2023 and January 2025. This 20-point deal facilitated by intermediaries US, Qatar, Turkey, and Egypt included terms for Hamas to give up its arms, and for a devastated Gaza to be governed by a Palestinian body of independent technocrats, while Israeli troops will withdraw in stages from Gaza.&nbsp; Hamas has agreed to relinquish control of Gaza, but has rejected the demand for disarmament, saying the group will demobilise but is prepared to resume fighting if Israel breaches the ceasefire.&nbsp; Following the ceasefire, Palestinians in Gaza have begun long journeys back to homes reduced to rubble by Israel’s two-year assault on the strip. The flow of humanitarian aid in the city has also increased following the peace deal.&nbsp; Israel's closure of humanitarian corridors in the past months had blocked the entry of food and medicine into Gaza, causing widespread famine. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) has said that the restriction of aid into the beseiged city has left as many as <a href="https://www.unrwa.org/newsroom/news-releases/gaza-unrwa%E2%80%99s-lancet-study-reveals-alarming-surge-child-malnutrition">54,600 children acutely malnourished</a>.&nbsp; Meanwhile, US president Donald Trump landed in Israel on Monday as hostages were being released, and world leaders are expected to head to Egypt for an international summit to discuss the next steps in Gaza, Israel, and West Asia.&nbsp;

Nepali hostage in Gaza not alive: Israel

Scenic Phortse in the lap of Mt Everest is called ‘the village of mountaineers’ because just about every household has someone who has summited the world’s highest mountain multiple times. However, while the international mountaineers they assist to make it to the top go on to fame and glory, their Sherpa guides from Phortse <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/without-sherpas-there-is-no-mountaineering" target="_blank">barely get a mention</a>. It is a risky occupation for Nepal’s high altitude guides, and every other family in this village has lost a member in Himalayan expeditions. Sherpa guides are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities" target="_blank">disproportionately more at risk </a>on Mt Everest because they have to traverse the Khumbu Icefall many times during an expedition. One third of the over 300 climbers who have died climbing Mt Everest are Nepali high altitude guides and porters. In 2014, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/everest-dangerous-place-to-work,1316" target="_blank">16 guides were killed</a> when an avalanche fell on them while going up the treacherous Icefall carrying expedition gear. Then in 2015, the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/big-drops-in-Everest-bookings-affect-livelihoods-of-Nepali-high-altitude-guides,2048" target="_blank">earthquake triggered a massive avalanche</a> that killed 22 climbers at Base Camp. Many of the fatalities in both years were Sherpa guides from Phortse. Despite the danger, Phortse honours and celebrates its climbers like heroes. One such is the late &nbsp;Nima Tshiring Sherpa, who was a porter and guide in the 1953 John Hunt expedition in which Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay became the first to set foot on the world’s highest summit.&nbsp; Nima Tshiring and his eldest son Pasang Gyalzen both reached 8,000m carrying expedition gear for the Hunt expedition in 1953. Nima Tshiring had eight sons and a daughter and although he never submitted himself, most of them have climbed Mt Everest at least once. In fact, his children and grandchildren have been to the top of Mt Everest a total of 81 times — a record for any family in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171048_a55e45bee2b5bbf38e4ee5bcea101edcc3041f40e331b8fee44e473457f42553.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251011171048_a55e45bee2b5bbf38e4ee5bcea101edcc3041f40e331b8fee44e473457f42553" data-rendition-name="original" width="2144" height="1436" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Nima Tshiring Sherpa with wife and children in Phortse. An unanmed Everest climber on right.</figcaption> </figure>  “We were born in Phortse which is in the lap of Everest, our identity is Chomolungma,” says one of his sons, Panuru, using the Sherpa name for the mountain. “In fact, I feel our entire family was born to climb Everest.”&nbsp; Phortse has a population of 350 people living in 95 households. Besides Nima Tshiring’s clan, more than 75 of the inhabitants have climbed Everest, many of them multiple times.&nbsp; Another one of Nima Tshiring’s sons, Ngawang climbed Everest 11 times, his brother Mingma Dorje has summited 14 times, and another brother Ngati not only got to the top seven times, but was the first climber to reach the peak from the Chinese side and descend down the Nepal part of Mt Everest. Ngati was killed in an avalanche on Annapurna while climbing with an American expedition in 1993.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171044_60693527b31aba22fe6f6c233cf367a3683b88be8dc2a53bfb5c2c02b2db1e5b.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251011171044_60693527b31aba22fe6f6c233cf367a3683b88be8dc2a53bfb5c2c02b2db1e5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2242" height="1660" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Mingma Dorje has climbed Everest 14 times.</figcaption> </figure>  Panuru himself has reached the summit of Everest 16 times, and set up the<a href="https://www.khumbuclimbingcenter.com/" target="_blank"> Khumbu Climbing Centre</a> in 2003 to train others in climbing techniques. Following in his footsteps was another brother Mingma Tshiring, who has been up 15 times and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/sherpaland-co-usa" target="_blank">now lives in Colorado</a>.&nbsp; Nima Tshiring’s only daughter Mingma Yanjin has also climbed Cho Oyu, Ama Dablam and other &nbsp;Himalayan mountains. Her husband Lhakpa Chiri Sherpa has climbed Everest 11 times. Counting him, the total summits for the family would be 92. This number also does not include other Himalayan eight-thousanders besides Mt Everest that the family from Phortse has summited. Nima Tsiring’s youngest son is Danuru who has climbed Everest 16 times, and has been on top of North American peaks from his base in Colorado. He is giving Everest yet another try.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171048_cd3e2961567ca507fc4110c97e01d85ee1c7e35f787276564ff59a4a76151fe2.png" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251011171048_cd3e2961567ca507fc4110c97e01d85ee1c7e35f787276564ff59a4a76151fe2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1308" height="980" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Nima Tshiring Sherpa and his son Danuru.</figcaption> </figure>  Even his grandchildren are following Nima Tshiring’s footsteps up Everest. Panuru’s son Lhakpa has climbed Everest from both sides and wants to break previous Everest records.&nbsp; “It is a dangerous occupation, but the rewards in terms of fame and money are substantial,” says Danuru. “One season’s income is enough for a Phortse climber to support his family for a year. And we have Chomolungma to be thankful for.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171048_d1f16e3925890663cadf3e20d955a531f21c479708f662df371fad3fdb87cf7a.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251011171048_d1f16e3925890663cadf3e20d955a531f21c479708f662df371fad3fdb87cf7a" data-rendition-name="original" width="760" height="1040" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Mingma Chhiring Sherpa who has climbed the Everest 16 times with a client.</figcaption> </figure>

Nepal’s most prolific mountaineering clan

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

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