The sixth edition of PhotoKTM will mark a decade of visual storytelling and continue its role as a vital platform for photographers and visual artists to explore the politics of photographs and their role in shaping our histories and futures.&nbsp; The month-long festival across Kathmandu Valley features 18 exhibitions, slideshows, workshops, artist talks, panel discussions, portfolio reviews, and film screenings. While Nepal Art Council will be the anchor venue, the festival will go on the road in Mangahiti and Chyasal in Patan, Nigu Pukhu in Madhyapur Thimi, Nandi Keshar Bagaincha in Naxal and Tribhuvan University. The curatorial themes of PhotoKTM 6 Global South Solidarities draws inspiration from the historic 1955 Bandung Conference in Indonesia, which marks its 70th anniversary this year.&nbsp; The festival explores the political and cultural legacy of the Third World Project, exploring the history of global resistance and solidarity, and how they have shaped contemporary processes to reclaim sovereignty of regions battered by centuries of colonialism, exploitation, and violence.&nbsp; The festival spotlights the work and curatorial voices of artists from over 40 artists based in the Global South, from Santiago to Lubumbashi and Quito to Dakar, alongside Nepali photographers and filmmakers. “We hope this year’s coming together will deepen cultural understanding among artists and cultural communities across the Third World, strengthen reciprocal transnational solidarities through the sharing of our histories, stories, struggles and hopes, and open up pathways for more south-south collaboration and exchange across geographies,” says NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati, co-founder and festival director.&nbsp; Also featured are eight Nepali artists from the 2025 photo.circle fellowship cohort, whose works explore questions, challenges, and contradictions surrounding the notions of ‘development’ and ‘progress’ in contemporary Nepal.&nbsp; The festival comes two months after the GenZ protests, at a pivotal moment when Nepal is navigating significant political transitions. Says curator Diwas Raja KC: “From anti-colonial struggles to the Bandung Conference, to the non-alignment movement and revolutionary cultural exchanges, these histories continue to shape how countries like Nepal imagine their place in the world.”&nbsp; PhotoKTM6 is supported by the Shikshya Foundation Nepal, the Embassy of Switzerland in Nepal, as well as independent non-profit organisations FreeMuse and Cultural Workers Solidarity Front. “I think it is particularly relevant that these spaces are created and maintained because it is only if people meet and continue to do this important work, in which they think collectively, they work collectively, and they hold up certain values, that they will be capable of contributing to what I would call a ‘free world’,” says yasmine eid-sabbagh, who is the invited interlocutor to this year’s festival. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Ji ta Newa Bhyaa Mawa (I don’t know Nepal Bhasa)&nbsp;</h2> Jyoti Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121124_0fbeb8abf122867f5d5294c6e4c7ef2a4e3785e2d4083fb663ebe543e9b8396d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113121124_0fbeb8abf122867f5d5294c6e4c7ef2a4e3785e2d4083fb663ebe543e9b8396d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: JYOTI SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  Jyoti Shrestha was born to Newar parents in Kathmandu but grew up without learning the mother tongue, Nepal Bhasa. ‘My parents, with the best of intentions, taught us English and Nepali—languages of success and survival in a world that had set ours aside... A Newar without language, I felt alien in the very culture that was meant to be mine,’ writes Shrestha in her testimony. Nepal Bhasa is in UNESCO’s ‘definitely endangered’ list. Shrestha has begun to learn her language with help from her parents, and in doing so, their relationship has shifted for the better. She adds: “No census counts the intimacy of a shared memory, the tenderness of language passed between generations, or the weight of an inherited silence.” <h2>The Land Remembers Our Name&nbsp;</h2> Rejin Purja  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_14b44a9e7a9d27c9ac5e893e59930d049d1be05401a42217c304a7d08c2e47e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113121128_14b44a9e7a9d27c9ac5e893e59930d049d1be05401a42217c304a7d08c2e47e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: RENJIN PURJA</figcaption> </figure>  The Department of Mines and Geology has confirmed the presence of iron ore in Jhumlawang in East Rukum. Iron mining has not started yet but a Kathmandu-based private company is said to have won the bid at Rs40.3 million. If the project indeed takes off, most of the families will have to be evacuated. “Not only will they lose their houses, land, and forests, but their roots, culture, and autonomy are also at stake. How can this project be considered of national benefit when it forces the very people it should serve to live in fear of their future?,” Rejin Purja writes in his testimony. Economic development exploits the natural resources of native and indigenous communities. Such projects may boost GDP and corporate profits, but they rarely improve the lives of the people whose land is being extracted from. This work reflects the uncertainty felt by the local people about their village’s future. <h2>Fragmented Land and Me</h2> Sujata Khadka  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_f28f960361f822792d8e4442f61deaea71bdf6022b9906509b7e9258939fdbcb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251113121128_f28f960361f822792d8e4442f61deaea71bdf6022b9906509b7e9258939fdbcb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUJATA KHADKA</figcaption> </figure>  Sujata Khadka’s ancestral home in Godavari’s Jharuwarasi was destroyed in the 2015 earthquake, after which her family built a new house on a small plot of land nearby. In the decade since the earthquake, rapid land trade has turned the farmland surrounding her home into a housing development. For the past 10 years, Khadka has been watching natural and man-made events unfold on the plots from her window on the second floor of her house. The land has been witness to playing children, negotiating brokers, bulldozers, and prowling wildlife. But despite relentless hemming and hawing by buyers and sellers over the past decade, no houses have been built on the land. &nbsp;“This misshapen land feels like a stage where a cast of characters performs an ongoing act,” says Khadka. “Perhaps this land and I are spectators to this drama.” <h2>Why doesn’t home feel like home?</h2> Karma Tshering Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_c568cdf076247f8904b289e9108ed4e7b5187d86694913751123a6b5df663142.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251113121128_c568cdf076247f8904b289e9108ed4e7b5187d86694913751123a6b5df663142" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: KARMA TSHERING GURUNG</figcaption> </figure>  Karma Tshering Gurung was born in Manang to a Manangi family, where he was raised with his siblings. But in recent times, whenever he has visited his family in Manang, he has felt a sense of unease, like the place sees him as an occasional visitor, an outsider who no longer understands the aspirations of his people. As Manang becomes a tourist spot, Gurung’s brother thinks it is a good idea to tear down their ancestral house and build a snooker house in its place. But Gurung thinks the house is their Appa’s legacy, and worth preserving. The brothers’ ideas of home have diverged. &nbsp; &nbsp;“With a camera in hand, I am trying to rediscover my relationship with this place, with my past, navigating ideas of home and belonging tied to Manang,” he says. “Maybe home for me is no longer just a place, but this search for identity, memory and connection.” <h2>Life and Struggle of Garment Workers&nbsp;</h2> Taslima Akhter (Bangladesh)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_9447434bde6d70048768c33dda8001e4e3f8da0718c8fff8f96970c4d69139ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251113121128_9447434bde6d70048768c33dda8001e4e3f8da0718c8fff8f96970c4d69139ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: TASLIMA AKHTER@Taslima Akhter</figcaption> </figure>  This project focuses on the millions of workers who leave their villages and move into crowded worker barracks in the cities of Bangladesh, in search of a better life. <h2>Between Us, a Thread&nbsp;</h2> Ahmed Alaqra (Ramallah)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_805845728d6e1fd13539d5c0af35f202f72ffbfb8e7dd502cc3c44067e2b574f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251113121128_805845728d6e1fd13539d5c0af35f202f72ffbfb8e7dd502cc3c44067e2b574f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: RUBA ALFARAOUNA</figcaption> </figure>  A quiet gesture between photographers, image-makers, and those who hold memory like a fragile light. Palestinian, Arab, scattered — yet orbiting the same wound.&nbsp; <h2>Possible and Imaginary Lives&nbsp;</h2> yasmine eid-sabbagh / Rozenn Quéré  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_a30877e2c30764d5d29c0b0457e2722685138e968549dedd8803dee1299bc45c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251113121128_a30877e2c30764d5d29c0b0457e2722685138e968549dedd8803dee1299bc45c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo Courtesy: YASMINE EID-SABBAGH AND ROZENN QUÉRÉ(Photo: ) </figcaption> </figure>  An exhibition, based on family photographs and taped interviews, tells the story of four strong and feisty Palestinian-Lebanese sisters, exiled to the four corners of the globe. <h2>Martyrs, Saints &amp; Sellouts&nbsp;</h2> Siona O’Connel (South Africa)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_7b84f695bdd27353af1f35ff5f739283d739b4fa7594e4965ca1230d4d60940b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251113121128_7b84f695bdd27353af1f35ff5f739283d739b4fa7594e4965ca1230d4d60940b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: BENNY GOOL</figcaption> </figure>  Comprised of photographs by Benny Gool, Zubeida Vallie and Adil Bradlow, documenting apartheid South Africa, this exhibition presents a vivid narrative of violence, loss and injuries that continue to reverberate under the rhetoric of the post apartheid landscape. <h2>Humo, Semilla, Raíz</h2> Isadora Romero (Ecuador)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121132_b01b94f340265fd42dcdffd98f39f58d3b1b3385718cb055d2b35e04fb1eda58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251113121132_b01b94f340265fd42dcdffd98f39f58d3b1b3385718cb055d2b35e04fb1eda58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="798" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: ISADORA ROMERO</figcaption> </figure>  An alternate look into environmental issues through the prism of possibility, instead of catastrophic consequence is what this exhibition brings. Romero’s visual research engages with how the loss of ancestral memory and Indigenous knowledge resulting from colonisation, forced displacement, and racism is causing seeds to disappear at an alarming rate. <h2>First week schedule (selected)</h2> Friday, 14 November Bhandarkhal Garden, Patan Museum, 5:30pm -7:30pm Festival Opening + Award of Excellence Saturday, 15 November Yala Maya Kendra, Patan Dhoka 3pm-4pm Demounting Louis Agassiz – Artistic Renegotiation of Archive, Memory &amp; Place. Talk by Sasha Huber (moderated by Diwas Raja Khatri) 4:30pm-6pm Witness or Accomplice: Photography, Human Rights and the Question of Freedom. Talk by Prof. Siona O’ Connell (moderated by NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati) Sunday, 16 November Yala Maya Kendra July, Unfinished. Jaheen Faruque Amin in conversation with Sabnam Lama, 3pm- 4pm When The World is Blind – Images by Palestinians. Ahmed Alaqra in conversation with yasmine eid-sabbagh, 4- 6pm Manga Hiti, 7pm-8pm Slideshow – Who Does The River Belong To? Monday, 17 November Yala Maya Kendra, 3pm - 4pm Memory is an Inaccurate Place: Dialogues Across Time, Territories, and Histories. Isadora Romero in conversation with Tanvi Mishra 4:30pm-6pm Third Camera – a Film Series: Ernest Cole: Lost and Found Dir. Raoul Peck 2024 | 1h 46m | English Tuesday, 18 November Yala Maya Kendra Sustaining Art Ecosystems That Resist and Nurture – Part 1 Paola Farran in conversation with Jessica Lim, 3pm- 4pm Sustaining Art Ecosystems That Resist and Nurture – Part 2 Chelsea Chua in conversation with Tif Ng, 4pm:30-6pm Khapinchhen, Patan A Photographer’s Fifty-Year Journey in Nepal. A Slideshow and Talk with Kevin Bubriski, 7-7:30pm PhotoKTM Bhoé, 7:30pm-9:30pm Rs1,800 (early bird), Rs2,000 (door sale) Wednesday, 19 November Yala Maya Kendra 3pm- 4pm Sustaining Art Ecosystems That Resist and Nurture – Part 3 Andrea Thal in conversation with Diwas Raja Khatri 4:30pm-6pm We must refuse silence! Samir Eskanda, Shahidul Alam, and Tabara Korka Ndiaye in conversation with yasmine eid-sabbagh Thursday, 20 November Nepal Art Council, 4pm- 6pm Walk-thru at NAC with Enuma Rai, Jyoti Shrestha, Karma Tshering Gurung, Manoj Bohara, Manjit Lama, Rejin Purja, Sujata Khadka, Sushila Bishwakarma More details <a href="https://photoktm.com/photoktm6-schedule/">here</a>. PHOTOKTM6 14 November-14 December Kathmandu Valley All events free and open

The politics behind photographs

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Twenty-seven national and four international organisations including The Carter Center, ANFREL, and the International Republican Institute, will be observing the 5 March elections. They were selected from a pool of 49 applicants.

Election observers

Chitwan National Park bid farewell to elephants Khagendraprasad, 7, and Rudrakali, 6, as they head to Qatar’s Al Khor Zoo. They were gifted to the Qatari Amir in 2024 and will be accompanied by their mahouts and a veterinarian. The elephant pair were flown out in a special aircraft from Bhairawa on Thursday.

Elephants to Qatar

The opening of the Nagdhunga Tunnel has been delayed to April due to pending toll system, landslide measures, jet fans, and service provider selection. Nepal’s first tunnel will cut travel time on the Prithvi Highway by 30 minutes and distance by 2.5 km.

Nagdhunga tunnel

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

Prime Minister Sushila Karki is under pressure from GenZ activists and families of the victims to go after officials in the previous government responsible for the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre"> murders of 19 youth at Parliament on 8 September</a>. But prosecuting the perpetrators and putting them behind bars risks street protests from elements in the previous government.
Former Prime Minister K P Oli is not making it easy for his successor. He is smarting from his downfall and itching for revenge. He is flexing his muscles with rallies, and has unleashed the attack dogs. UML’s newly-formed ‘Youth Volunteer Force’ is led by former Maoist Pushparaj Shrestha, who is accused of multiple murders and kidnappings, and former Bhaktapur MP Mahesh Basnet has been making incendiary remarks on social media on behalf of his boss.
Oli is obviously using the threat of street protests as a deterrent: don’t come after me, or else. Prime Minister Karki cannot risk escalation, otherwise <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/march-to-5-march">elections </a>may have to be postponed, or worse, cancelled.&nbsp;
The UML’s partner in the deposed government, the Nepali Congress (NC), is also suffering post-traumatic stress from the shock of the GenZ uprising. Its leader Sher Bahadur Deuba had stepped down as party chief, but has had second thoughts, and seems to want to prove his astrologer right that he can be prime minister seven times. (He has clocked five so far.) Meanwhile, his NC party is imploding with its no-longer-young-turks demanding a party overhaul before elections.
The Maoists are no longer Maoists. Former guerrilla commander and three-time prime minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal has joined up with seven smaller leftist parties to form the Nepali Communist Party by teaming up with two other superannuated former prime ministers, Madhav Kumar Nepal and Jhalnath Khanal. Maoist ideologue Baburam Bhattarai has also shed his Maoist tag and leads a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/party-time">new party</a> (PSP) that vows to ‘uphold the demands of the GenZ’.
The long and short of all this is that Nepal’s legacy parties have not seen the writing on the wall, they have no idea how much public outrage there is against them even after the carnage and conflagration ten weeks ago. And after all this, they are behaving exactly like they did before, sidelining internal rivals within their party, treating politics as powerplay and not about accountability and better governance to lift living standards.
Even a little bit of enlightened self-interest would have allowed them to see how sticking to their guns and not handing over the party to a younger cohort would mean certain ignominious defeat in March. But being gerontocratic authoritarians, they still believe their vote banks are intact, and are betting on the GenZ fervour fading by March.
Twenty years ago in this same space, we wrote: ‘Our politicians are not satisfied with being top dog, they want to be only dog.’ Nothing has changed, history is on rewind in slow motion. To take the canine analogy further: maybe you cannot teach an old dog new tricks.
The best indication of this is the shameful<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/election-countdown-4-more-months"> lack of remorse from the former prime minister </a>down the chain of command for what happened starting at noon on 8 September. Even if he did not give the order to shoot, being the head of government he should have taken responsibility for the death of 19 young Nepalis outside Parliament. Resigning that afternoon may have saved the nation from the scale of death and destruction the following day.
The Judicial Commission of Inquiry headed by former justice Gauri Bahadur Karki has another month to submit his findings. K P Oli has said he is not going to any deposition, while his Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak has indicated he will if asked.&nbsp;
Much of the evidence for the killings, arson and looting are in the public domain. There are videos and photographs of the Special Task Force commandos who knelt, took careful aim, and fired at the protesters outside Parliament. Many of the arsonists and looters on 9 September posted selfies and videos on Tiktok and Facebook where they can be easily identified as Maoist, RPP and RSP supporters.
What has angered the GenZ is that while the Home Ministry has been arresting some of those who set fire to Singha Darbar and Parliament, it has not deemed it necessary to track down the shooters. Home Minister Om Aryal says he is waiting for the Judicial Commission report to act.
Last week’s Human Rights Watch (HRW) report, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/11/19/nepal-unlawful-use-of-force-during-gen-z-protest" target="_blank">Nepal: Unlawful Use of Force During ‘Gen Z’ Protest</a>, has a detailed timeline of what happened on the two days, corroborated with interviews with eye-witnesses. It found that the STF started shooting within five minutes of the curfew being announced, and most protesters did not hear any warnings. Some 34 protesters were detained inside Parliament, beaten and mentally tortured.
The wounded and dead all had high-velocity gunshot wounds on their heads, chests and abdomen. The arson and looting the following day appears to have been instigated by a mass SMS sent from a fake Myagdi account, after which Discord posts directed protesters to attack specific locations.
Many more questions need to be answered by the Judicial Commission: why did the Army not act sooner, who gave the actual orders to use lethal force with assault rifles, who attacked schools, hotels and businesses, who was behind the inter-party and intra-party attacks on the afternoon of 9 September?&nbsp;
Prime Minister Sushila Karki has to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/proper-polls-better-than-no-polls">tread a careful middle path</a> through this minefield till election day.
Kunda Dixit

Election vs escalation

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

The saga of Nepal Jaynagar-Janakpur Railway

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

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

How much ice must melt before we act?

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

The Himalaya is not fragile

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

Global warning bell in Belém

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My nephew watched in rapt attention as the slides, telling the story of Lysan, shifted on the screen before him. For those few minutes, the noise and chaos in the massive hall, packed with children and their parents at the book launch event, became obscured and only the story became foregrounded. And in that moment, I felt exactly as my nephew might have—being found by the feeling of wonderment and enchantment. Lysan, a children’s book illustrated by Kanchan Burathoki and written by Sandra van Doesburg was launched in Kathmandu in August, along with other books produced by Van Doesburg Creative Works. The set included Namaste, a high contrast book for infants, Are You a Snow Leopard?, two part set book and workbook, and Mijok’s Trip, a children’s illustrated novel by Niranjan Kunwar. Lysan is the story of the longing to belong. Lysan is a creature, half eagle, half rhino. She has wings and talons and tough and rugged skin and a horn. Lysan wishes she didn’t look as she does and wonders if the way she looks is why her friends look at her differently. She has difficulty opening up to her friends because she is different and she wants to be seen for who she is, but has little confidence. It isn’t until she meets someone quite like her that she is able to look inward and appreciate her true self. Whose story does “Lysan” tell? Of each one of us. Although the story appears like a simple children’s story about someone who thinks herself a misfit, the meaning goes much deeper. And in that, it transcends the narrative aimed at children and speaks to people in different age groups. “When I was writing the business plan to set up Van Doesburg Creative Works and working on my first two books, Namaste and Are You a Snow Leopard?, one of my friends in Switzerland, Lys, suggested we create a story centered around biracial children since both of us, and now our kids, are biracial,” explains the writer, Sandra Shiwani van Doesburg, who is also an HR professional. “Her son and mine were born during Covid, and I was eager to explore that experience.” “I wanted to capture the universal childhood feeling of being different. It did not have to be about race or culture alone; it could mean anything to anyone,” Sandra says. Lys wrote the German version and Sandra wrote the English. Sandra reached out to Kanchan Burathoki, with whom she was &nbsp;working on Are You a Snow Leopard?. Kanchan and Sandra go back to their boarding school days at Budanilkantha, and so between the two friends, Kanchan immediately understood the soul of Lysan. And thus, the Rhino-Eagle who loves running and then flying, came into being. “As our lives evolved into motherhood, we reconnected deeply and creatively. Kanchan is truly magical with her illustrations,” says Sandra. “With her fine arts background and experience running a graphic design business, she intuitively understood not only illustration but also book production.” Lysan isn’t just a confused, solitary being. Her character is full. When she sees a new creature, she says: “Let’s mush that ICKY THING!”. There’s no attempt here on the writer’s part to create a protagonist who is only good. Every time we get to this page while re-reading Lysan, my nephew laughs. Lysan’s face speaks! The other characters in the book are just as quirky as Lysan. There are the lynx who are also narwhal and there are the pangolin who are also falcon. And there’s Wormfishly, who’s a worm and fish and a fly at the same time.&nbsp; The animals featured in the book are some of the endangered species from Nepal, the Philippines, Switzerland, Thailand, and Austria, the countries close to the creators’ hearts. A mood board describing the colour palette for illustrations and a specific narrative on each character was first prepared. “I didn’t want human characters, and so through anthropomorphism, I wanted the story to feel universally relatable,” Sandra adds. For a decade now, I’ve been one of my nephew’s bedtime story readers. And over the years, we’ve read many books together, exploring all kinds of scenarios and landscapes together, laughing, sighing and sometimes, smiling as we shut the book.&nbsp; Reading Lysan was a repeat of that act, as we followed the beautiful landscape with our eyes, the blue sky, spotted with clouds, the greenery and the cuteness of the characters. The imaginary land Kanchan visualises, is the kind one wants to be inside. Here, magical hybrid creatures become part of a moving world. As an adult reading Lysan, I’ve felt moved by it every time, as it transports me back to my childhood, where I too felt like a misfit—wishing I looked different, spoke differently, and even felt differently. The curious thing about this feeling is that it barely wears out even as we outgrow innocence.&nbsp; The feeling keeps burrowing into new forms and faces as we step into adulthood, and often we are the ones who leave a party early, who are unable to show up for dates with friends, who sit and spend hours staring at the sky for no reason, who refuse to wear a certain shirt because the texture feels too queasy, or who leave a drink untouched because its colour reminds us of something unpleasant. Each one of us is made up of loads of these feelings and things. Some of us are made of other things, but just as interesting or uninteresting to the others. And so each one of us is whole, each one “ALL ME inside”, as Lysan says. But in the crowd we might be pressured to blend, even if it means pulling on a mask and taking cues from friends and family.&nbsp; At some point in life those differences start to make sense and we understand that in being unlike others, each one of us is original and thus contribute to the huge map that makes this world as magical as it is. That’s what the story of Lysan is about. Over the weeks, I’ve read the book to my nephew a couple of times and every time, he approaches it with new light and love. To borrow Sandra’s own words: “The best stories are simple but open to multiple interpretations. What you take from a story might not be what I take, and that’s beautiful.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215041232_b4c946acbee0b09fe977beab5f24042afa0717c85c3de857cbf744c78842f103.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251215041232_b4c946acbee0b09fe977beab5f24042afa0717c85c3de857cbf744c78842f103" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Lysan book details NT"> </figure>

All me inside: a story about flight

Belém’s lowland Amazon landscape stands in stark contrast to &nbsp;Himalayan peaks, yet the decisions adopted at COP30 will influence the future of mountain regions across the world.
For the first time, mountains were anchored across several outcomes of the UN climate negotiations, including a dedicated dialogue to be held during the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) mid-year session in June 2026.
COP30 also made a small step forward in advancing the urgent call to limit global temperature rise and scale up climate finance, both of which are critical for vulnerable mountainous countries.
For mountain countries like Nepal, these milestones are not symbolic gains, they are overdue acknowledgement of the profound and accelerating risks unfolding in the high mountains. They offer a rare opening for mountain nations to elevate their priorities, strengthen coalitions and ensure that global climate action translates into real protection for the people and ecosystems of the world’s highest and most fragile landscapes.
In a decisive step, COP30 requested the Chairs of the Subsidiary Bodies, the technical and scientific arm, to convene a formal UNFCCC dialogue on mountains and climate change during its mid-year session in June 2026. This matters for three reasons.
First, from the continuous rise in global temperature, and from rapidly retreating glaciers to unstable slopes to drying springs, mountain systems are undergoing ‘irreversible change’ at faster rates than many other regions.
Second, hundreds of millions of people in downstream countries depend on mountain water, biodiversity and resources. The collapse of mountain systems is not just a local concern, it is a global risk.
Third, mountain nations have historically had limited negotiating leverage. While many other geographic groupings have established strong collective platforms, mountain agendas have remained scattered. The dialogue, supported by a summary report to be presented at COP31, offers a new diplomatic anchor point.
For Nepal, as well as the broader mountain ranges such as the Himalaya, the Andes, the Alps, the Atlas and the Ural Mountains, this opening helps not only to highlight vulnerabilities, but also to shape global climate policy in ways that reflect mountain realities.
Beyond the standalone dialogue, mountains were referenced across COP30 decisions in ways that give mountain nations more substantive hooks in the global process.
The Global Mutirão decision, the political heart of COP30, explicitly reaffirms the ‘vital importance of protecting mountainous ecosystems’, among others, as part of an integrated response to climate change, biodiversity loss and land degradation. This holistic framing aligns with Nepal’s longstanding call for recognising the interconnected crises affecting mountain landscapes.
Meanwhile, the Belém Adaptation Indicators under the Global Goal on Adaptation include mountains as a specific category for disaggregation. This is an important technical win: it allows countries like Nepal to measure and report adaptation progress in ways that reflect the unique vulnerabilities of mountain ecosystems and communities.&nbsp;
Indicators related to climate-resilient ecosystems, ecosystem-based adaptation, and biodiversity resilience all reference mountainous areas, opening pathways for targeted adaptation planning and finance.
Not only COP30 but the process leading up to it has made consistent progress on mountain issues. The IPCC, in its Seventh Assessment Cycle, will include a dedicated cross-chapter paper on mountains. Likewise, the UNFCCC’s Standing Committee on Finance has selected ‘mountain ecosystems and melting glaciers’ as a sub-theme for its forum next year.
Both developments pave the way for advancing climate science and climate finance specifically in the context of mountains. These decisions, taken together, offer a foundation to build a more structured and sustained recognition of mountain issues in the climate regime.
CLIMATE SCIENCE
The urgency behind the COP30 decisions reflects what climate science has been warning for years. The Hindu Kush Himalaya is warming significantly faster than the global average. Even at 1.5°C of global warming, the region could lose up to one-third of its glacier volume by the end of this century.
Extreme rainfall events that were once rare are now more frequent and intense. Landslides are becoming larger, deadlier and more unpredictable. Springs that sustained communities for generations are drying up. Ecosystems are rapidly shifting upslope, leaving species with shrinking habitat and escalating extinction risks.
These impacts are already manifesting on the ground. Recent floods, landslides and glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs) across Bhutan, India, Nepal and Pakistan all reflect a broader pattern of climate-driven extremes. As the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) warns, the intensity and frequency of such events will continue to increase with every fraction of warming.
This is why referring to the Paris temperature goal of 1.5°C as ‘unattainable’ is not just scientifically careless, it strikes at the very survival of mountain communities. Yet current global commitments fall far short of what is needed. Based on 86 NDCs submitted by 113 Parties, global greenhouse gas emissions in 2035 are projected to be only 12% below 2019 levels, far from the 43% reduction the IPCC says is required to keep 1.5°C within reach.
For mountain countries, the message could not be clearer: there is no margin for delayed action.
PATH AHEAD
COP30 has created both political and technical space for mountain issues–thanks to the joint efforts of mountainous nations like Nepal, Bhutan and Kyrgyzstan (as Chair of the Mountain Group), along with support from countries in Latin America and Africa.
But turning this progress into real protection for mountain regions will require collective effort and sustained leadership. It is not only about securing the word ‘mountain’ in decisions — the real task ahead lies in advancing urgent action to limit global temperature rise and in mobilising climate finance that reflects the realities and complexities of mountainous geographies.
The upcoming mountain dialogue in June must underline the fact that protecting mountains requires stabilising global temperatures well below 1.5°C.
The case for mountain-specific finance for adaptation and addressing loss and damage remains key. Mountain regions face challenges that do not align with conventional adaptation models: high-risk terrain, dispersed settlements, difficult access, fragile ecosystems and complex hydrology.
Adaptation here is more costly, technically demanding and long-term, yet climate finance mechanisms rarely reflect this reality. The GGA indicators must help to push for simplified access and scaled-up support for ecosystem-based and nature-based adaptation, recognising the complexity of mountainous geography when justifying climate rationale.
For mountain countries, many climate-induced impacts cannot be avoided by adaptation alone. The accelerating pace of glacier loss, slope failures, biodiversity collapse and cultural heritage impacts demands a robust loss and damage system. The Fund for responding to Loss and Damage (FRLD) must also recognise differentiated realities and address mountain-specific risks, GLOFs, highland droughts, erosion-driven displacement and glacial retreat.
Diplomatic progress alone will not safeguard the mountains. Action must reach the places where impacts are unfolding, unstable slopes, remote settlements, shrinking pastures and drying springs. This requires scaling up early warning systems tailored to mountain hazards, and expanding watershed and spring-shed restoration to secure vital water sources. It also means investing in resilient mountain infrastructure and protecting biodiversity corridors linking fragile highland ecosystems.
Empowering local communities through climate-resilient livelihoods is equally critical, alongside strengthening scientific monitoring of the cryosphere and mountain ecosystems to understand fast-changing risks. Finally, enhanced cross-border collaboration on data, forecasting and water governance is essential, given the Himalaya is a shared mountain system whose stability depends on collective action.
COP30 has opened an important chapter for mountain issues in global climate diplomacy, but it is only the beginning. The 2026 mountain dialogue, the implementation of the Belém Adaptation Indicators, the IPCC cross chapter paper on mountains, to the Standing Committee on Finance to discuss mountains, and above all a renewed global commitment to decisive emission reductions will determine whether mountain communities are protected in ways that reflect their realities.
For Nepal, a country whose identity, ecology and economy are inseparable from its mountains, this moment is both an opportunity and a responsibility. The stakes are nothing less than the future stability of the Himalaya and the well-being of millions who depend on it. The world can no longer afford to look away from the mountains. And mountain nations cannot afford to wait.
Manjeet Dhakal is the Head of LDC Support Team at Climate Analytics and Director for Climate Analytics South Asia. He is a member of Nepal delegation and Adviser to the Chair of Least Developed Countries on climate change. &nbsp;

Mountains at the tipping point

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

Parks by the people and for the people

The 193-member General Assembly, the UN’s highest policy-making body, routinely designates International Day of This or International Day of That. &nbsp; The wide range of subjects and events range from the sublime to the ridiculous, turning some urgent international problem into something silly and absurd. Commemorations range from the well-known International Women’s Day and the International Day to Combat Islamophobia to International Moon Day and World Bicycle Day. There is World Tuna Day, World Bee Day, International Day of Potato, World Horse Day, World Pulses Day and International Day of the Arabian Leopard. The United Nations observes 218 international days annually (and counting) out of the 365 days available. One of the first designations came from the UN General Assembly’s declaration in 1947 that 24 October should be celebrated as United Nations Day, the anniversary of the adoption of the UN Charter that founded the organisation. Since then, UN Member States have proposed more than 200 designations, presenting draft resolutions to the General Assembly so the entire membership, representing 193 nations, can vote on the proposals. But a new resolution aimed at revitalising the work of the General Assembly 'notes with concern the significant increase in the number of proposals to proclaim international days, weeks, months, years or decades'. The resolution decided to put on hold consideration of new proposals for international days, weeks, months, years and decades during the eighty-first and eighty-second sessions. The resolution also requests the President of the General Assembly, effective from the eighty-first session in 2026, to group all proclamation requests for international commemoration into a single resolution per agenda item, where each proposed commemoration contains its own operative paragraph focused on its establishment.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251207091248_2234d7732b326739b3089a45c2878661e65bd6a6008f00c3f861a63c0caa50ee.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251207091248_2234d7732b326739b3089a45c2878661e65bd6a6008f00c3f861a63c0caa50ee" data-rendition-name="original" width="725" height="805" loading="lazy" alt="international days"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251207091248_4e3fdee1352e7d7ba132555821d2842bce34d9f67953de27ccb5fa7530551f43.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251207091248_4e3fdee1352e7d7ba132555821d2842bce34d9f67953de27ccb5fa7530551f43" data-rendition-name="original" width="728" height="762" loading="lazy" alt="international days"> </figure>  Republished under an arrangement with Inter Press Service (IPS).

‘International Days’ range from the sublime to the ridiculous

In a democracy, governments come and go. But Nepal had become so entangled in the triangular affair between Sher Bahadur Deuba, K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal that it was becoming impossible to tell who was canoodling with whom.&nbsp;
All three had long since abandoned their party ideologies. Staying in power was all that mattered as they turned Nepal’s democracy into a kleptocracy.&nbsp;
For the past at least 20 years, we have warned them to mend their ways. Democracy had to be rescued from the hands of such kakistocrats. Waiting to pounce were monarchists and anarchists of every ilk, outcast Maoists, and supporters of a leader jailed for fraud. Tycoon Durga Prasai said his rally in March was to restore a Hindu monarchy, but he was just a temporary royalist whom even the ex-king spurned.&nbsp;
All this converged into a perfect storm on 8 September. Commandos shot and killed 19 innocent young people outside Parliament, the anger boiled over into targetted arson and vandalism the next day. The government fell, and Sushila Karki was elected interim prime minister through Discord.&nbsp;
With not just their monopoly on power but also their very lives in danger, the triumvirate was at first in total shock. Then came conspiracy theories and an inability to gauge the rage from decades of misrule.
Nepalis had assumed that after September the old parties would see their folly, and step down to hand over the leadership to a new generation. But 10 weeks later, there is no sign of any act of contrition.
In the NC, Sher Bahadur Deuba has sidelined the caretaker he himself appointed, Purna Bahadur Khadka, and is active again as the party prepares for a showdown in its Convention next month. The UML is proceeding with its own General Convention, where Oli is fully assured of a third term as party boss. Dahal sees no alternative to himself in his newly-forged Nepali Communist Party and is eagerly eyeing becoming prime minister for the fourth time.&nbsp;
The three leaders who everyone had hoped would finally retire have reincarnated. It is obscene for obsolete politicians to still hanker for power after all that has happened.&nbsp;
SHOCK AND AWE
The three leaders who have been prime minister a dozen times between themselves want to cling on, but this is not abnormal if we apply <a href="https://www.bbc.com/audio/play/w3cszmjz" target="_blank">Elisabeth Kübler-Ross</a>’ theory of the five stages of grief. The author of <a href="https://www.google.com.np/books/edition/On_Death_and_Dying/GlSq0AEACAAJ?hl=en" target="_blank">On Death and Dying</a> was analysing how people with terminal illness deal with their situation, but her 5-stage theory may be applicable to the way heads of the NC, UML and NCP are reacting to the shock of being overthrown — first with denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance.&nbsp;
On 9 September, distressed by what had befallen them, the three were in total denial. Then began the stage of anger. Oli ranted in public about a conspiracy to install an ‘unconstitutional’ interim government, blaming the Nepal Army, and vowing not to take part in election even while preparing for it.
The NC has decided to participate in elections, although it has to first sort out its internal power struggle. The NCP and the RSP have united with smaller parties and are actively preparing to campaign. GenZ groups are speaking in different voices, with Sudan Gurung and Miraj Dhungana openly trying to unseat an interim government they themselves installed.&nbsp;
The parties are now in the third stage: bargaining. Instead of asking himself in hindsight what he should have done, Oli wants Parliament restored but has also registered his party for elections. The UML won't allow elections unless the government lifts restrictions on Oli’s movement.
Likewise, GenZ groups are putting up conditions for supporting polls: arrest Oli and others. Karki is single-mindedly focussed on elections, even if it has to be put off by two months. The Army would also like polls on time because it does not want a repeat of September when it had to intervene to form the interim government.
If Karki’s 6-month mandate ends without elections, and if by then the GenZ’s trust in the interim government collapses, then UML and NC could plan to press for an all-party election government, restoration of Parliament which would then dissolve itself to appoint a new prime minister that Karki would also be agreeable to.
The current state of affairs makes it difficult to imagine elections being held on 5 March — mainly because polls would be incomplete without the three main parties taking part, and it is unlikely they would participate in polls that they are certain to lose since they have not reformed themselves. Amidst these ifs and buts, the role of the Army will be critical.&nbsp;
The fourth stage of grief is depression, and that is what will happen to the parties when the reality of their unpopularity finally hits them. Only then will they finally accept their fate, realise that it was all their own doing, and perhaps reinvent themselves.
Kübler-Ross said the five stages did not necessarily have to be in that order, or that sometimes there may only be three phases, which may be applicable to the parties. What is for sure is that the three leaders are in no mood to atone for their sins.
Rabin Giri is an editor with <a href="http://nepalnews.com/" target="_blank">nepalnews.com</a>.&nbsp;

Stages of denial

Nepali Times #1289

Mithila art has represented Nepal’s indigenous culture, passing down through generations in the Madhes. Now, noted artist S C Suman explores this tradition with a bit of modern touch that gives it added relevance. Each of his paintings at the ‘Mithila Cosmos VII: Journey of a Pilgrim’ exhibition at Siddhartha Art Gallery exudes culture, colours and feminism, but with added improvisations that make it contemporary. “Mithila is an art form that is mostly used by women. Women have been the ones who preserve culture and pass it to other people and upcoming generations. The art form is what it is today because of women,” explains Suman. Inaugurating the exhibition on oMonday, art historian Julia Llyod Williams spoke fondly of Nepal and Mithila art, relating how she once bought a Mithila painting she liked without knowing its historical and cultural importance to the Mithila civilisation.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216031232_729d03089084a1bc79b0678766a09e13dcd9236ebd628795eb3b8c3aafcf8981.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251216031232_729d03089084a1bc79b0678766a09e13dcd9236ebd628795eb3b8c3aafcf8981" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Mithala exhibition NT"></figure>  Suman is a self-taught artist, textile designer and a radio host from Biratnagar, and one of the country’s most celebrated artists, with national and international honours. He has held 14 solo exhibitions and numerous group shows in Nepal and all over the world. “With Mithila Cosmos, Suman brings his artistic evolution into a deeper, more traditional realm, where pilgrimage is shaped not only by movement but by cultural memory and sacred stories,” says Sangeeta Thapa of Siddhartha Art Gallery. The seventh edition of the exhibition explores and displays reflections of pilgrimage, sharing the artist’s physical and spiritual experience with viewers. The first of this series was exhibited in 2007. “I am confident that this edition will also win visitors’ hearts. In the past, different dimensions of Mithila art were presented through this series. This time around as well, I have tried to give viewers a new perspective,” says Suman.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216031232_2626f5a28e0051157af5d7f414128a1893645ddda02c955448103f4e92078385.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251216031232_2626f5a28e0051157af5d7f414128a1893645ddda02c955448103f4e92078385" data-rendition-name="original" width="1191" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Mithala exhibition NT"></figure>  The exhibition is displayed on two floors of the gallery and includes paintings of Swayambhu, Pashupati, Lord Ganesh, Krishna, Ram Sita Bibabah among other renderings. Explains Suman: “The Pashupatin painting depicts the evolution of the temple, and since I live near Swayambhu, the mantra chanted there gives me energy, inspiring me to paint the shrine.” Use of colour, especially hues of blue, grab the attention of the viewers creating a sublime experience. ‘Samundra Manthan’ depicts how Lord Shiva drank poison to save the world. All the elements of the episode including Vasuki Nag, Kamdhenu and others are elaborately depicted. This carries on the Mithila tradition of telling stories by showing them through art. ‘Ram Sita Bibah’ shows the story of Ram and Sita in an intricate and intimate manner, and this is followed by the Banbas series, where Lord Ram is expelled from the palace, owing to family politics for power. In ‘Banbas I’, when crossing a river, the person rowing the boat asks to cleanse Lord Ram’s feet and then only allow him to board the boat, and pictorialises the storyline of the Ramayana. Similarly ‘Nava Durga’ is painted over canvas, has mantra painted all over the background and comprises ten avatars of Goddess Durga that is worshipped throughout Dasain.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216031232_7a24f7f8d264d7bd204b8f475d1e86dc6fe70765487c37ebed85da8117081a80.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251216031232_7a24f7f8d264d7bd204b8f475d1e86dc6fe70765487c37ebed85da8117081a80" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1570" loading="lazy" alt="Mithala exhibition NT"></figure>  “I finished the Nava Durga painting in the ten days of Dasain. Each day I used to wake up, do my daily puja and then sit for painting. No matter what, I separated time to paint even during festivities,” Suman says, showing how the paintings are a deeply reverential devotional artform. ‘Geeta Saar’ is an equally breathtaking exposition from the Bhagavad Gita, the blues once again giving the show a tranquil ambience. Visitors at the exhibition do not just walk past the works hanging on the walls of Siddhartha Art Gallery, they stand in front of each of them for a minute or two, almost in prayer. The Mithila Cosmos exhibition series started when the Maoist conflict was still taking place, and today it is taking place in the aftermath of recent protests during which government buildings surrounding the gallery were all torched. Suman’s ‘Journey of a Pilgrim’ makes us ponder how it all fits in with Nepal’s history, culture and faith. Says Suman, “My aim is to bring stories of the Valley, Madhes and other cultures into a single canvas. I have tried to find ways to incorporate Nepal’s diversity in every single painting.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216031236_89a12ff1908123e079cb08b77e37a4a875544e6baa6c9c1f4bfdba52b99e4287.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251216031236_89a12ff1908123e079cb08b77e37a4a875544e6baa6c9c1f4bfdba52b99e4287" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1015" loading="lazy" alt="Mithila exhibition NT"></figure>  Mithila Cosmos VII: Journey of a Pilgrim Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Revisited Till 10 January 11:00am – 5:00pm

Pilgrimage to the Mithila cosmos

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>

The war between people

It is quite a feat for just two actors on a darkened stage to hold an audience spellbound for more than one hour. Yet, ‘के? Us.’ at Kausi Theatre does just that. It is a thought-provoking but baffling work that leaves the audience questioning reality, the recurring metaphors in this intriguing and powerful dark comedy haunting us for days afterwards.&nbsp; The unsettling sound of deep breathing mingles with percussive drumming and a driving guitar that pulsates amidst a red glow, dimly illuminating shadowy structures charred by fire. A door leads to what is later revealed to be the ancestral home of two brothers which is ‘under renovation’. One of the brothers Ashim (Bijaya Tamrakar) lives in Nepal caring for a supposedly comatose mother who is only depicted by a tree draped with red LED lights that circulate arterial blood corpuscles. Visiting him is a long-lost brother Aaryan (Eelum Dixit) who has returned (deported?) from America.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The stage is littered with scattered paper trash, a run-down motorcycle chassis, a tattered sofa, and beat-up table and chairs. The stage is set for a sinister plot. Are the characters to be punished in perdition?&nbsp; It does not take long for the audience to grasp that this is an apocalyptic Nepal that, following absurdist traditions, could exist at any time in the future or the present day <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">post-GenZ protest state</a>. Ashim and Aaryan Adhikari have reunited after 15 years. Ashim, the younger brother, has been burdened with the responsibility of taking care of their brain-dead mother. Aaryan, returns after having migrated to the US, where he married, had children, divorced, and lost everything. He has been at “minus 20 and is now back to zero”.&nbsp; The brothers have intense back-and-forths that expose their cynicism, the conversation tangentially alluding to Nepal’s unstable political landscape, migration, an economy in shambles, aging population, alcoholism and other mental health issues. Even the sibling argument about the relative merits of momos and burgers seems metaphorical. The stagecraft uses lighting and sound effects brilliantly, transporting the audience to a surreal world in which Tamrakar and Dixit improvise their lines — no two shows are exactly the same, although the overall plotline has continuity.&nbsp; In the first scene, Aaryan approaches the house tentatively, creeping rodent-like, and carrying a briefcase and an old-fashioned lantern. And at the end, Ashim screams, “I am chaos.” Is this the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end?&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Choas play review"> </figure>  At one point Aaryan seems perturbed by the sound of protest outside (the Gen Z movement?) and the taut atmosphere grips the audience with fear, shock, and apprehension of the recent death and destruction.&nbsp; Throughout the play there is the sound of breathing, as if through a ventilator, a thumping heartbeat, the morbid buzzing of flies and the glowing red LED veins -- signifying the presence of the comatose Aama. She is featured in a prologue-esque home video at the start of the play in which she reminisces about her two sons and rues her failing memory.&nbsp; The sound of breathing gets accentuated each time a brother gets closer to the tree, and it seems to fuel Ashim’s belief that Aama may be brain-dead but she is still among them. This play can go as deep as each individual in the audience wants it to go.&nbsp; The silenced, comatose mother could be Nepali Aama muted by an entrenched patriarchy. Or, she could be the symbol of a helpless country while her children fight over the ruins of what is left. The cake cutting is a delightfully Shakespearean subplot where we wonder if one of the brothers is going to poison, or knife, the other. The message is clear: how can we move forward if it is brother against brother? The stairs signify political transition (elections, constitutional change, new coalitions) promising upward movement, but eventually lead to falls, leaving the nation exactly where it started, or worse. The mother’s terminal illness evokes an ailing state apparatus, hollowed out by corruption and deep-seated social decay. Yet the brothers cling to an irrational hope — instead of confronting the harsh truth and pursuing radical solutions, suggesting a blind faith in the mother.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The brothers are lost. Aaryan climbs up stairs that lead nowhere, Ashim holds on to unrealistic hope that somehow Aama will get better. Tamrakar and Dixit deliver powerful performances, even more remarkable for the fact that they are improvising their lines as they go along. When Aaryan breaks a wall and directly addresses the audience, spectators turn from being passive observers to active participants (‘the society’). The audience then become oglers in this drama, suddenly made self-aware of our role as the scrutinising, cavilling voyeurs that society represents. There is some discomfort of being watched and judged.&nbsp; By asking his brother what he is afraid of while pointing at the audience, Aaryan suggests that the brother's (and perhaps the character's core) fear is not just of the house, or the mother's illness, but of external judgment and societal censure. After the stage goes dark, the applause takes some time. Audience members shuffle out in silence, minds reeling from the collective soul-searching they have just participated in.&nbsp; After ‘के? Us.’ the din at Teku intersection outside sounds different as we wait for our Pathao ride below the खरी tree where <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Shukra+Raj+Shastri&amp;client=safari&amp;sca_esv=75e8315709cd5118&amp;rls=en&amp;sxsrf=AE3TifMJhwukjdBBT0n4QcQWe8IYSaEVsw%3A1764648053799&amp;ei=dWQuaYbIMOy94-EPn4ygyAE&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiU1ciogp6RAxXq3TQHHeo9LBIQgK4QegQIARAB&amp;uact=5&amp;oq=nepal+tree+where+martyrs+were+hanged&amp;gs_lp=Egxnd3Mtd2l6LXNlcnAiJG5lcGFsIHRyZWUgd2hlcmUgbWFydHlycyB3ZXJlIGhhbmdlZDIIECEYoAEYwwRIug5QAFiNC3AAeAGQAQCYAc4BoAHrCKoBBTAuNS4xuAEDyAEA-AEBmAIDoALlBMICBRAAGO8FmAMA4gMFEgExIECSBwUwLjEuMqAHzw-yBwUwLjEuMrgH5QTCBwcwLjIuMC4xyAcM&amp;sclient=gws-wiz-serp&amp;mstk=AUtExfCLIneLVW3SFBzxBc964wFcTJ936tcAPSDcvNKljck0PIqDJddMZ_t8Pg610M98MCx14aNdnyLHs9QM0jWLhI7JYmkPhugX1ZHfSQvdCHZE9E5m2_ZQY5Jr893UcGjQfpabtA_C48NfB9Pg56uYMOmTtEBEcGuvz3d96Qaifyb86sI8mAkrRNo_367cv_xmFjLZ55iQkfHtORuOvZSUkIdMvAdpweuf4jPjjI4anbv9lc-uCImdP0JSvtvEGL8ePxwsWWOzYpIbjNP1zofjcWXK&amp;csui=3" target="_blank">Shukra Raj Shastri</a> was hanged in 1941 by the Rana regime. Language and Literature Students, 2026.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  ‘के? Us.’ Kausi Theatre, Teku Till 7 December (except 2 December) Bookings: +977 9842156109, 9842574607

Staged chaos evokes state of Nepal

Ancient heritage meets dern distillery craft as the US-based The Nepali Spirit Company this month makes its global debut with Kathmandu Ayla. Inspired by Nepal’s ancient rice whiskey tradition, the product is the first of four handcrafted spirits that brings Kathmandu Valley’s 1,000-year-old ayla tradition to the world stage. “The first four products combine history, culture, and tradition and it has taken eight years to get to this launch point,” says CEO of The Nepal Spirit Company Kashish Das Shrestha, who is also publishing a book on the history of alcohol in Nepali culture. The other three ayla products are Masala Whiskey aged in Brazilian Amburana casks and spiced with black cardamom from Nepal, Annapurna Ayla, and Haku Chaku Himalayan Espresso Liqueur made with organic Nepali coffee, and chaku (dark molasses).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  “I started visiting international whiskey auctions six years ago and after reading about distilling, my passion for spirits grew, and I felt the urge to tell the story of Nepal’s heritage spirits to the world,” explains Shrestha. Once poured in Nepal’s royal courts, ayla is a clear rice whiskey that is a millennia-old living heritage of Kathmandu used in rituals from birth to death and traditional life milestones of its inhabitants. Ayla is distilled to capture the classic aromas and flavors, with a soft sweet after taste. It can be enjoyed neat, sipped through meals, or enjoyed as shots. With more than 15% of Nepal’s population living and working abroad, there is a cultural demand for ayla in the diaspora from Asan to Amstredam to Australia.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1270" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;“We also believe ayla is a wonderful way to tell Nepal’s story to the world,” says Lilu KC Shrestha, Chief Operating Officer of the company. “We intend to use our platform to promote Nepal in any way we can, and also find ways to give back to the country. It was high time a world-class Nepali spirits brand entered the global market, and we are proud to take the lead.” Aside from the ayla itself, the bottle and packaging was conceived by New York-based designer Sahara Shrestha to reflect a complete Nepaliness. “Each bottle and box is a love letter to Nepal, and every detail is an expression of respect and appreciation of Nepali heritage and our desire to share it with the world,” says Kashish Das Shrestha. “And ayla itself is a sacred part of our culture, so we wanted to make sure the bottle reflects this reverence.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> <figcaption>Aylarita</figcaption> </figure>  The bottom of each bottle has an embossed Mandala representing the universe and its interconnectedness. A glass molding of Himalayan peaks Chomolungma and Nuptse signifies the earth and heaven. The bottle cap is a black and gold rendering of the metal plates that hang from Kathmandu’s temples. The logo of The Nepali Spirit Company is also inspired by the unti, a traditional vessel used to pour ayla. While its top is typically adorned with a peacock, the company’s design replaces it with rice stalks. This motif is also on the label of Annapurna Whiskey named in honour of both the mountain and the goddess, the giver of grain. For a new take, ayla can be paired with a lime wedge lathered in honey, cumin, and salt, or on the glass rim. It can also be mixed into cocktails to make Aylarita, Aylatini, or Aylapolitan. <a href="http://www.thenepalispirit.com/" target="_blank">www.thenepalispirit.com</a>, @TheNepaliSpirit

The American Ayla

Political intimidation, ownership pressures, the rise of AI, and economic constraints are calling into question the future of press freedom – nowhere more conspicuously than in the United States, where these forces have combined to fuel growing anxiety about the fate of an institution that has been fundamental to democracies everywhere. At this year’s International Press Institute World Congress, Project Syndicate Deputy Managing Editor Rachel Danna sat down with Martin Baron, former executive editor of the Washington Post, to discuss the state – and fate – of journalism today. Project Syndicate: You’ve said that journalism’s core mission is to hold powerful institutions to account. In today’s climate, in which media owners, particularly in the US, fear political retaliation, how can editorial independence be maintained? Martin Baron: Journalists must insist on their editorial independence. That’s the first thing: not to concede anything, and to make it clear that their job is to report on what’s happening – what their government is up to, and what the most powerful institutions and individuals in their countries are doing, for good and for ill. The core of our mission is to hold the powerful to account and listen to people who would otherwise go unheard. The alternative is to become either stenographers or propagandists. James Madison, the principal author of the US Constitution, talked about the importance of freely examining public figures and government measures. I always focus on the word “examining,” because it means to investigate, inspect, and assess – the opposite of stenography and propaganda. America’s founders wanted a check on government. They wanted somebody to guard against corruption and abuse of power, and we should live up to those assignments. But ownership remains a point of vulnerability for media outlets. There’s no perfect form of ownership – they all come with pressures, especially when owners have other commercial interests. These pressures have only grown since Donald Trump returned to the White House this year, willing and eager to target those interests. Owners who yield do a disservice to the journalists who work for them and to democracy itself. Their primary goal should be to defend the rights that allowed their media businesses to exist in the first place. You said that you don’t think there’s a “perfect form of ownership,” and considering your experience following Amazon founder Jeff Bezos’s purchase of the Washington Post, you may know this firsthand. But are there other models? Should the media be profit-driven, or should it aspire to be more like a public utility? Are there different models we should be exploring that might work in the US or elsewhere? I haven’t seen anything that’s very promising. Joseph Stiglitz sort of advocated government funding during his talk at the IPI’s World Congress, but I think that’s a major trap. Public broadcasters in the US received government funding, and Trump used it as a way to clobber them. Trump and state officials aligned with him would use government funding as a cudgel to pressure media outlets, when what we need to do is eliminate sources of – or potential sources of – pressure so we can operate with independence. That requires finding a way to be self-sustaining, whether as a nonprofit or as a commercially oriented enterprise. Many independent media organisations around the world, operating in very challenging environments, have been the recipients of American assistance through USAID. Now that USAID has been shut down, they are not getting that money, creating a huge crisis for them. Other outlets have been financed by philanthropic organisations, and they are finding that funding has dried up as well. That is particularly true of news organisations operating in exile or in countries like El Salvador, Venezuela, and Myanmar. Suppose US media organisations relied on government funding. In such a case, Trump would insist that they adhere to the standards he has set, just as he is doing with other recipients of public funding, like universities and school districts. And his standard for the media is to serve as his propaganda outlet. He does not want a free and independent press. The only press he considers legitimate is the kind that repeats what he says word for word. Given this context, and drawing on your experience leading the Washington Post during Trump’s first term, what do you think the media got right – and what did it miss – in covering a president openly hostile to the press? What do you think of the coverage of the second Trump presidency so far? For the most part, the press has done a really good job, both during the first term and now in the second. We know a lot about what happened during the first Trump presidency. We knew much of it at the time, and we know even more now. The same is true today: every day, there is another revelatory report about what’s happening in this administration. Many front-line journalists, and the editors who work directly with them, are committed to holding the government to account – to finding out what this administration is really up to, who’s influencing it, and how its policies are affecting people. I deeply admire them for it. The real failure regarding Trump’s first term actually came before he became a candidate. We didn’t do a good enough job of understanding how we could end up with a president like Trump. We didn’t understand America well enough. We didn’t spend enough time traveling around the country, listening to people’s grievances, and explaining them to others. We still don’t do enough of that. The press needs to serve as a bridge between communities, helping people better understand one another and what they’re going through. That requires reporting without a trace of contempt or condescension, grounded in real empathy. It’s also important to remember that most people don’t spend their days thinking about politics or democracy. They’re focused on making a living, ensuring their kids get a good education, and maintaining access to health care. We need to understand why people feel these things are under threat, why they believe they’re worse off than before, why their kids have fewer opportunities, and why the social problems in their communities are not being addressed. So, how should journalists approach the coverage of populist leaders who actively seek to delegitimize the press? How do you present both sides, or adhere to the cherished principle of impartiality, when one side is clearly lying? You’ve talked about the idea of “objective reality” in journalism. How should journalism today reflect this idea? I have long been an advocate for what’s been known as objectivity in journalism. I know that word can make a lot of people uneasy, but I think it’s been grossly mischaracterised. What I mean by “objectivity” is that reporters should start their work knowing they don’t know everything. That’s the whole reason for reporting. Reporting means finding out about things you don’t know about, or don’t know enough about. So, we should do our jobs without thinking we have all the answers. Instead, we should be focused on asking the right questions. Objectivity – approaching every story with humility, acknowledging what we don’t know, and being willing to learn – is how we preserve our independence. But objectivity is not “both-sidesism.” It doesn’t mean pretending every issue is split 50-50. If the evidence points in one direction, we should say so, rather than pretending otherwise. Only after we’ve done rigorous reporting can we tell people that what we’ve found is true. “Truth” is a big word, so I’m reluctant to use it. The goal is simply to get as close as possible to reality and understand the facts. And to do that, in any field – whether you’re a judge, a scientist, or a journalist – you have to begin with a hypothesis but keep an open mind, knowing it could be wrong. People used to describe journalism as the “first rough draft of history,” and that remains true: it is a draft, always incomplete and constantly evolving. I often think we’re looking at the world through a keyhole; we don’t see everything, yet sometimes we can push the door open a little and get a clearer view of what’s really going on. If we’re skilled and lucky, we can swing that door wide open and see the whole picture. That doesn’t happen every time, but with each discovery, the draft becomes more refined and our confidence in it grows.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215141240_653d1ccac6b20b3d0d51e587477d90edc641f7ab4d11a8db54269e0645bb4547.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251215141240_653d1ccac6b20b3d0d51e587477d90edc641f7ab4d11a8db54269e0645bb4547" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Martin Baron"><figcaption>Martin Baron</figcaption></figure>  It seems that many people today are eager to tell others what they know – or think they know – despite having no background or formal training in journalism. Influencers and “content creators” have built huge followings on Substack and social media. What does this mean for the future of the profession? I’m not attached to the traditional ways of doing things. Technology has fundamentally changed how people consume information, and that naturally changes how we convey what we know, or think we know. This shift has created an entire ecosystem of influencers, Substackers, YouTubers, and podcasters. The core principle everyone should follow is verification. Is the information you’re communicating authentic and accurate? Alternatively, is it misinformation, or even disinformation? Upholding that standard is critical. Everyone in this business has a duty to share only what they know to be true. Passing along information you haven’t verified is simply irresponsible. Share it only if it’s been checked and comes from trustworthy sources. But how do you do that? That’s the hard part. You need to rely on sources that have proven to be reliable over time. As much as people criticise traditional news organisations, when there’s a natural disaster, guess where they go for information? Whether it’s a hurricane, an earthquake, fires, floods, or war, people turn to the traditional news organisations. That suggests that they believe the information they find there will be accurate. What opportunities and risks does generative AI present? Is this, in your view, a turning point for news media and for journalists? People always sound wiser when they say everything is terrible. Doomsayers tend to sound more profound, and people are more inclined to believe them than the optimists. AI, of course, is a powerful tool capable of many great things. But like every technology, it comes with risks as well as benefits. Social media is a good example: it connected us in unprecedented ways while also deepening polarization. The same is true of AI. It’s an extraordinarily powerful reporting tool that can make journalists more efficient by allowing them to sift through vast amounts of data. Reporters have already used it to analyse bomb strikes, identify the weapons used, and piece together what actually happened. At the same time, the risks are enormous. AI makes it easy to fabricate images, video, and audio. You can hear a recording that perfectly imitates someone’s voice – tone, cadence, and speech patterns. It’s fake, but people may still believe it. Or they may conclude that distinguishing truth from falsehood is impossible and not even worth trying. That’s a precarious position. It threatens not just the press but democracy itself in ways we have yet to grapple with. When we can’t even agree on a basic set of facts, progress becomes impossible. That uncertainty enables people to exploit the situation for personal, commercial, and political gain. This is already happening in US politics. An unflattering image appears, and a public figure says, “That wasn’t me. That was AI.” You hear their voice on a recording, and they say the same thing. Some denials may even be true. But as fake images and audio spread, even authentic ones will be dismissed. People will claim that anything that contradicts their narrative or casts them in a bad light was fabricated. Without a shared sense of what’s real, we lose any firm foundation for public debate. You’ve warned that democracy cannot survive without a free press, which underpins many other freedoms. What reforms or protections do you think are most urgently needed to safeguard press freedom around the world? First, it’s important to make clear that free-speech rights are not reserved solely for the press. They belong to everyone. In many countries today, including the US, even business executives are afraid to speak openly for fear of government reprisal. What we need is a broad coalition of people who understand that free expression is essential to a functioning society. Clearly, there have been many encroachments on free-speech rights in the US recently, and I worry about where they may lead. But we still have judges who recognise the importance of those rights, and many who continue to stand up for the rule of law. That’s the model other countries should aspire to: constitutional protections for free speech, judicial systems that enforce those protections, and governments that respect them. What lessons can emerging democracies draw from US efforts to protect press freedom and uphold institutional resilience at a time of democratic backsliding? You can’t just declare yourself a democracy and sit back. The greatest defender of US democracy has always been its institutions, and Trump is systematically trying to destroy them, with far too much success. Yet they still exist, and they continue, in their own way, to push back against these assaults. That is the key lesson for emerging democracies: you must defend your institutions and protect their independence while recognising how easily they can be subverted. People around the world are horrified by what’s happening in the US precisely because they saw it as a bastion of free expression and the rule of law. Emerging democracies should remember how fragile these pillars really are and resist the temptation to take them for granted. In the US, we’ve done that for too long, which is why so many people once asked, “How much damage can Trump really do?” We took the press freedom for granted. But many more people now understand that the press is often the only institution willing to listen to them, investigate wrongdoing, and hold the powerful to account. And they know that if the press isn’t there, none of that work gets done. And yet the press is increasingly demonised and blamed for various crises around the world. There is a notion that the news media finds itself in its current predicament because it has somehow failed. Do you think this criticism is fair? Has the media done a different – or lesser – job in recent years? It seems to me that many of these criticisms come from people who claim the press is irrelevant and then insist that, had we covered something differently, the outcome somehow would have been different. I don’t know how to reconcile those two ideas. If we’re irrelevant, why would our coverage make a difference? Often, the people who criticise the press haven’t actually looked into what we reported. In many cases, we did cover those issues – people simply weren’t paying attention because they didn’t see them as urgent at the time. When something doesn’t feel urgent, it’s easy to ignore. Some people seem to think the media runs the world. In the US, for example, there’s a notion that the press somehow got Trump elected in 2016. That’s complete nonsense. There was extensive reporting on Trump. At the Post, we published an entire series on his personal and professional history. We wrote so much that it eventually became a book: Marc Fisher and Michael Kranish’s Trump Revealed. If you read that book now, it’s striking how prescient it was. Yet people say, “You didn’t write about this,” or “Why didn’t you tell us that before he got elected?” Many of these criticisms just aren’t borne out by the facts. More often than not, the issues people say we ignore were, in fact, covered – and covered thoroughly. Or else we simply didn’t know then what we know now. Over time, new information emerges, documents surface, and more people come forward. So how can news organisations get people to pay attention, especially younger audiences? You’ve said that without younger readers, journalism has no future. What strategies do you believe are most effective in reaching them without compromising journalistic rigor? I’m not sure we’re communicating in the ways people actually want to receive information. People read less nowadays. They’re more passive consumers; they don’t want to go searching for information. We live in a digital age in which more people get their news visually or through audio rather than text. If I had my choice, it would be different, but that’s the way it is. We should study what works for audiences and apply those lessons ourselves, even if it makes traditional journalists uncomfortable. A journalist recently asked me, “What should I be focusing on? What should I be learning?” I told him, “Short-form video.” You’re a long-form writer? Great, you should still learn how to do short-form video. You may not want to, but you need to provide a tasting menu that makes people want the full course. Most people are not going to read a 10,000-word story or a ten-part series. They don’t have the time or patience. That said, merely adapting isn’t enough. We have to embrace these new formats with enthusiasm, because they’re teaching us how to reach people in a world where communication habits have changed dramatically. We could sit around blaming audiences for the current state of journalism, but that would be a waste of time. © <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/">Project Syndicate</a> Martin Baron is a former executive editor of the Washington Post.

Defending press freedom in the age of Trump

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

Kangchenjunga in winter

Amber Tamang leads his group of trekkers through Lumsa village, past traditional houses with sturdy stone walls and hemlock tile roofs. He stops on the trail to point out his childhood home.&nbsp; He is taking the team to Pikey Peak (4,065 m), the ideal lookout from where on clear days eight eight-thousander peaks from Annapurna to Kangchenjunga, including Everest, are visible. Tamang, founder of the Three Jewels Adventures agency, takes his clients to lesser-known trails as part of his Lower Everest trekking route, on the way up to Pikey.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_baf0c06386d4fee07a2105020459033e959e30c269e6ece7338f4b28c0a44ba8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_baf0c06386d4fee07a2105020459033e959e30c269e6ece7338f4b28c0a44ba8" data-rendition-name="original" width="815" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey Peak Lumsa Trail"> </figure>  Trekkers usually do not take the Lumsa route because the quaint villages do not present as much excitement as the scenic panorama of mountains.&nbsp; But hiking through the bucolic countryside provides insight into the community’s deep Lamaist faith reflected in the chorten, mani walls, sacred inscriptions on stones, prayer flags on houses, the festivals and in the way the villagers interact with one another.&nbsp; “I wish more people would soak in the villages and their culture on their trek, rather than just wanting mountain views,” says Tamang.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091212_862b5098bec366ac32bde26b95a126889a5a1cf9b20eb8c7f09c1025fe293d72.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251214091212_862b5098bec366ac32bde26b95a126889a5a1cf9b20eb8c7f09c1025fe293d72" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="680" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091212_321cea9eab93e109efc09f45d1de9086b4626f84f77a9b2e4ae52b9fd4777be5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251214091212_321cea9eab93e109efc09f45d1de9086b4626f84f77a9b2e4ae52b9fd4777be5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>  Jangbu Sherpa owns the Lama Hotel in Lumsa, one of just two accommodations in the village. There is no signage along the trail advertising his business, and guests are still few and far between. So in the evenings, he calls his neighbours over to his lodge for some beer, conversation, and dancing. And on special occasions, a group welcomes guests with a traditional Syabru dance.&nbsp; “I’m working on expanding this little lodge,” he says with a smile. “Lumsa could become a buzzing stop on the trekking route.” Jangbu’s son Nima is a porter-guide, and is preparing to take a group of trekkers to Pikey Peak and the Thupten Chholing Monastery above Junbesi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>  There is a downhill bicycle route from Pikey, and lucky trekkers might even spot red pandas on the forest canopy. “I saw a red panda with my own eyes once,” interjects Pemba Tamang, a veteran guide, from across the room. He begins listing other wildlife he has encountered enroute to Pikey — danphe pheasants, their wings resplendent in the sun, ghoral blue sheep jumping nimbly on rock cliffs, a lumbering black bear, and once, memorably, a leopard.&nbsp; Amber Tamang, Nima Sherpa, and Pemba Sherpa are among the men in Lumsa who are most often away from home, leading trekking and mountaineering expeditions. Some from the village have summited Everest multiple times. To get to Pikey Peak, drive up the BP highway to Dhap, with Numbur and Karyolung towering up the valley to the north.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>  Up in Pikey Base Camp at 3,700m is the Tunga Baje Lodge, now operated by his son Pasang Lhamu Sherpa. If they are lucky, guests will catch baje in a performance, singing and strumming his tunga.&nbsp; The trek can be made a circuit— hikers do not have to come down the same way they went up. Winter is not the best time for a Pikey hike, but the views of the mountains, especially after snowfall, are dazzling. It is best to go in early spring when forests are ablaze with rhododendron. The region is home to 32 different types of the flower.&nbsp; Says Pasang Lhamu: “Tourism is picking up, but it is tough to keep things running. I hope for stability &nbsp;so we can invest in the lodge.”&nbsp;

Going offtrek in Solu

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

James Kirkham is a climate scientist with the Ambition on Melting Ice (AMI) High-Level Group. He previously worked with ICIMOD in Kathmandu, and spoke to Nepali Times during COP30 in Belém.
Nepali Times: Why should we be worried about the cryosphere?
James Kirkham: People often talk a lot about coral reefs and the Amazon rainforest as tipping points. But the cryosphere also has a tipping point and it is very close to the temperatures we are already at now, 1.5°C. If we stay at this temperature, ice sheets will begin to tip into unstable configurations and begin to retreat irreversibly.
High Asia's glaciers are important to society, economy, and livelihoods. The water from those glaciers follows downstream and helps about two billion people with drinking water, irrigation, agriculture, and power. So, it is crucial to do everything we can to maintain those glaciers. We can still make a big difference, but we are going to lose a lot of ice in the future regardless of what we do now because we have acted too late.
Why does Nepal need to speak up?
It is really important that Nepal talks about it because it is vulnerable to the effects of cryosphere loss, and it has done the least to contribute to this crisis. It is our moral obligation to make sure countries like Nepal are well informed about the implications of the loss of the cryosphere, so they have early warning systems to detect the implications, and also to reduce the impact of those losses.
You have worked in Nepal. How has that shaped your perspective?
When you live in a country like Nepal you see that the culture is so intimately tied to mountains. The communities see these changes better than the scientists. They have lived there for decades, they have stories from generations going back about where the glaciers used to be, and the effect of this. 
We are currently heading towards about 2.7°C as our long-term temperature. Now, under 2.7°C, the glaciers in the Himalayas will be massively diminished. In the central part of the Himalaya, there will be only 16% of glacier ice left. It is an enormously important message to give to policymakers that by acting ambitiously now with policies in a fair, equitable way, they can lock in these changes and limit the damage to those living in the mountains. 
But are countries like Nepal actually being heard at COPs?
Nepal is a consistent champion for climate and mountain issues, and it is one of the most vocal countries. Bangladesh is facing a crisis mostly from sea level rise. But they are saying, we do not want to be seen as the victims of climate change all the time. We want to be the leaders in adaptation. And we want to be the ones that the world looks to as an example of what they can do. This is where Nepal and other countries can show leadership here at climate summits and play a vital role to play. They can showcase their actions. And that is a much more inspiring message to send to leaders around the world.
I commend countries like Nepal for their ambitious adaptation action, raising their voice about the importance of mitigation to save glaciers, and of course, financing to make all the adaptation and mitigation possible. I am amazed by the progress Nepal has made. The cars are largely electric now. This is an example of fantastic change that can happen very quickly, even in a country where financial resources and mobility are not so advanced. Nepal's example can be inspiring for other countries to elevate their ambitions.
How do you see the crisis affecting people on the ground in the Himalaya?
As a scientist, we do talk a lot about numbers and if I tell you that half the glaciers will disappear, it will sound really scary. But actually linking it to people is the way to tell that story. And there are so many stories that put faces to the shape of this wider climate crisis emerging. In the mountains, it might be that rivers and streams are drying up or changes to the flora and fauna of those mountains are noticeable and may have an impact on livelihoods as well. It might be the increasing number of disasters like outbursts which wipe away communities that have been there for centuries.
We need to do more as scientists to communicate to policymakers and the wider public. It is a much more powerful message when you can link it to stories people can relate to. Because ultimately, policymakers are humans too, and they have families, they care about these ideals and these values, and they want to act if we can express these messages very clearly.
Do you think COP30 gave enough attention and priority to the cryosphere issue?
We try our best. We have had a Cryosphere Pavilion now for five years and we get lots of good feedback from this. People say we really like having scientists there as a space to give this information. But in this COP we have been quite worried by the treatment of science more broadly, both in the research and systematic observation tracks, but also in things like the fight around whether IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) is the best available science. I find this really alarming because the policy needs to be informed by the best available science, and we have seen some countries who want to dismantle this too.

Preventing irreversible glacier loss

There is nothing like an election to focus the minds of politicians. So, with less than three months to go for the 5 March political parties both new and &nbsp;old are in full preparation mode.&nbsp; The UML and the NC are following a two-pronged strategy: filing separate writ petitions in the Supreme Court for the reinstatement of the House even as they prepare for their general convention to decide on tickets for candidates. election. Following the alliance of Nepal’s left-aligned parties into the new Nepali Communist Party, the RSP and Bibeksheel parties have also joined forces. “Old political parties that were supposed to defend democracy are themselves hegemonic, oligarchic, and exclusive, and patriarchal, and the only strong voices inside political parties seem to be coming from women like Binda Pandey, Usha Kiran Timilsina and Sumana Shrestha,” says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal.&nbsp; She adds: “These parties are responsible for Nepal’s political decay, and there is little hope they will mend their rent-seeking ways and become more democratic and egalitarian.” The new post-September political parties are trying to change that perception by projecting themselves as reform minded and clean, and navigating the dynamics of election preparation. There are over 800,000 new young voters, and their ballots will be a key determinant in the outcome in March. Only a few youth leaders have formed their own parties, others are trying to decide which party to team up with. Others have partnered with career politicians who left their mainstream outfits out of frustration with their leaders.&nbsp; “The newly-formed parties are relatively more inclusive, but they are also led by strongmen,” says Pyakuryal. “It remains to be seen how long we can sustain democracy if our only choices are these personalities.”&nbsp; Activist Ojaswee Bhattarai is part of the five-member chair council of the Pragatishil Loktantrik Party launched by former Maoists Baburam Bhattarai and Janardan Sharma. Other members in the council include youth leader Ashok Jaiswal, Durga Sob, formerly of the Nepal Samajwadi Party, former RSP chief whip Pariyar, and another ex-Maoist leader and minister Sudan Kirati.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211151216_fe46c9dde8ca8680a2264e9cb3340cd005d2f1464e2893b99121cab2cdd99e6b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211151216_fe46c9dde8ca8680a2264e9cb3340cd005d2f1464e2893b99121cab2cdd99e6b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ government agreement"> </figure>  Bhattarai told a roundtable last week: “The movement exposed youth exclusion from decision making and resistance of political leaders, who themselves have been part of Nepali politics since their youth, to make space for a new generation.”&nbsp; She added: “It is now crucial for young people to come forward and seek leadership positions, and take part in a process that has so far been limited to the political elite.” It remains to be seen whether seniors in politics want to genuinely do a better job, or if they are simply looking for opportunities that were denied them in their old parties.&nbsp; And not everyone is happy with older leaders pretending that they are with the youth.&nbsp; Janardan Sharma, who left the Maoists after falling out with his former comrade Pushpa Kamal Dahal was heckled this &nbsp;week in his home district of Rukum West. Although there is a youth wave, the three mainstream parties still have their ballot banks among older rural voters. And even in the cities, the disparate new parties and young candidates may dilute the vote allowing the established parties to retain their foothold.&nbsp; Without a clear agenda, ideology, and institutional know-how, the new parties either risk being a flash in the pan or lose momentum after initial success.&nbsp; “There is a huge opportunity for these new parties to onboard young political figures to push the agendas of young and marginalised Nepalis,” says Pyakuryal. “These new parties will also have a better chances in the polls if they unite under a single banner.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211151216_8126915535a657004bf730b4df98096d1dbaea26959160614b121a96bc660d1c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251211151216_8126915535a657004bf730b4df98096d1dbaea26959160614b121a96bc660d1c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ government agreement"> </figure>  Former RSP minister Sumana Shrestha is yet to join any political party, but was present at the launch of the Ujyalo Party last week. She also urged new political actors emerging from the September movement to unite.&nbsp; “Not working together will be like rolling out the red carpet for old parties,” she said. There is anticipation about what plans Shrestha and Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah. Also closely watched are emergent figures like Birendra Basnet of Buddha Air, who may be keeping his options open for candidacy through the &nbsp;Gatishil Loktantrik Party he recently formed.&nbsp; Basnet has put forward a strategy to overhaul the aviation sector as a metaphor for a new vision so Nepal can take off &nbsp;in future.&nbsp; Kulman Ghising has faced some criticism for launching his Ujyalo party while still serving in the interim Cabinet. He is reportedly planning to resign as the election approaches to declare his candidacy.&nbsp; Says Pyakurel: “Any new leader who contests the election needs to have political acumen as well as a strong sense of responsibility and ethical accountability, not just charisma. They will need to approach Nepal’s socio-political and economic needs in a more technical, less political manner as they put forward their ideas of reforms before voters.”&nbsp;

New wine, new bottles

Top news

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

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