With its abundant cultural and environmental <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/decoding-diversity?fbclid=IwAR3P0GygTCQ7HE-LaaVOhmKSyUDLlIrR2l9VzXKwCFJ8Em7YFHSAOiiXqQE">diversity</a>, the ripples of Nepal’s aesthetic influence are being felt within the country and across the world. Creatives are constantly finding fresh ways to mix traditional elements into their personal inspirations. Be it their grandmother’s Bulaki or ethnic textiles reimagined in global silhouettes, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/hurdles-come-with-the-terrain-in-nepal-s-fashion-industry">Nepali designers</a>, artists, and musicians are breathing new life into historic styles. Nepal has a wealth of traditional textiles, from handloom Dhaka to Haku Patasi. With their distinctive colour schemes and wide variety of patterns, these textiles lend themselves to being reworked as fusion style garments. Nepali brands and local tailors alike are increasingly using these weaves. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-designer-by-design?fbclid=IwAR0ZheOVHUu4V8Uu1n46FOxQfcwd_Zw-zpBThCPWnc60KrzVgrwmupANMlU">A designer by design</a>, Sahina Shrestha Kathmandu-based tailor Riddhi Bajracharya has begun creating tailored overcoats and blazers in Haku Patasi while Nepal-Scotland based brand Clove and Moon reimagines the weave in Japanese Jinbei, waistcoats, and accessories. Other brands are adding elements of the textile to their accessories as the popularity of traditional Newar dress is visibly increasing, even beyond jatra and feasts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211010_4b5dababe84879db728eb855df8b5872e862aa93c51dfffba25eed8f85c7207c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025010211010_4b5dababe84879db728eb855df8b5872e862aa93c51dfffba25eed8f85c7207c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1790" height="2354" loading="lazy" alt="fusion1"> </figure>  “We are seeing huge increases in demand for Haku Patasi clothing,” says Manjushree Tailors owner Riddhi Bajracharya. “We see many more people going out wearing Newari dress in the streets, wearing both traditional and fusion styles like tailored coats and gowns. Some people find wearing sari uncomfortable for events, so they order Haku Patasi gowns in different styles to mix heritage with comfort.” Nepal’s contemporary musicians blend local with global in their songs, and they also often experiment with innovative fusionwear looks both on- and off-stage.&nbsp; “I enjoy mixing traditional Nepali and western style because it looks cool,” says Samrat Manandhar, drummer for Shree 3 and Tumbleweed Inc. “It’s comfortable as well, and mixed styles look unique.” Perhaps one of the most recognisable Nepali women’s garments is the Chaubandi Cholo. Whether in jewel toned velvets or patterned Cauterize (needlecord), the eclectically inclined are pairing these traditional blouses with everything from miniskirts to maxi dresses. They are using fabrics often reserved for the blouse to make waistcoats or vintage style separates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211014_7cc547bb58f462236aa3de1598abfa48d5154e4662451f44c821651a2f77885c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025010211014_7cc547bb58f462236aa3de1598abfa48d5154e4662451f44c821651a2f77885c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1856" height="1856" loading="lazy" alt="fusion5"> </figure>  As thrifting continues to gain popularity in Nepal, vintage and secondhand clothing is increasingly seen mixed with Nepalese garments by all ages to create unique looks. Nepali Dago, arguably the original hair extensions, are another part of Nepal’s rich aesthetic heritage making a comeback in recent years. Paired equally well with jeans and a t-shirt as with a ruby red sari, this accessory is increasingly brightening up streetwear from Kathmandu to New York. Many countries associate nose piercings with subcultures, especially the septum piercing. In Nepal, the Fuli and Bulaki have been worn by multiple ethnic groups for generations, sometimes measuring over an inch long. Having a unique ability to signal an alternative leaning and a nod to tradition, some find the piercing a beautiful way to showcase facets of their identity, in Nepal and abroad.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211014_484d36a29326455c01b4c279f4dac5de72874714ff135732a0e353278652b385.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025010211014_484d36a29326455c01b4c279f4dac5de72874714ff135732a0e353278652b385" data-rendition-name="original" width="1898" height="1898" loading="lazy" alt="fusion6"> </figure>  “Growing up, I never really understood the significance of fusion wear,” says e-commerce account manager Krisha Bhattarai. “My mom would always incorporate tika, potey, and other Nepali bits and pieces into her everyday outfits, but it wasn’t until I started to decolonise my mindset that I began to see why she did it.” She adds, “Now, I see it as a way of staying in touch with my background. I wear a Bulaki and Chaubandi Cholo because they were the fashion of my paternal grandmother and the women before her… explaining the significance of the Bulaki or the history of the Ashrafi to people in the UK helps me express myself and share parts of my culture.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dauraa-suvaal">दौरा सुरुवाल</a>, Pinki Sris Rana&nbsp; Nepali jewellery has communicated everything from marital status to profession over the centuries. Traditional statement ornaments are equally at home styled with streetwear as they are worn at weddings.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211010_ee6ece93c531a86acd65686d227abbe6e62fcc2722e283a2d36f8db38558e6b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025010211010_ee6ece93c531a86acd65686d227abbe6e62fcc2722e283a2d36f8db38558e6b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="3273" height="3275" loading="lazy" alt="fusion2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211014_a970e4ec9ba6195bb8be2d0f9b27af362361f75bb032918e088e5f7163cfeb4e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025010211014_a970e4ec9ba6195bb8be2d0f9b27af362361f75bb032918e088e5f7163cfeb4e" data-rendition-name="original" width="3650" height="3645" loading="lazy" alt="fusion4"> </figure>  Numerous young designers and entrepreneurs are choosing traditional jewellery designs and techniques to express themselves, responding to increasing consumer demand for accessible ways to wear ethnic styles. Says Pragati Shrestha, founder of Euphoria Nepal: “We create a harmonious fusion between our traditional jewellery and modern everyday wear… It’s a great learning experience. I get to learn more about our culture, art and most importantly the significance of every intricate detail of the different symbols, statues, and artefacts of our history.” Euphoria Nepal incorporates the essence of Nepali art and craft in modern fashion and has now expanded its business internationally, with a sister brand in Canada.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211014_f1b82a798cd9c2101b046f777b7d5eb64705c7d5a671da6ae669ee81106c7e98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025010211014_f1b82a798cd9c2101b046f777b7d5eb64705c7d5a671da6ae669ee81106c7e98" data-rendition-name="original" width="3624" height="4984" loading="lazy" alt="fusion5"> </figure>  A more permanent fashion element is tattoo, and here too artists and enthusiasts have flocked to Nepal to ink traditional designs on their skin or get inspired for their own work. Many of Nepal’s tattoo artists are not only mixing different art styles in their work, they are also using these designs on clothing. Thamel-based studio Tattoo Junction’s Anitya Chakra makes Japanese inspired cotton sets and graphic t-shirts, collaborating with a range of tattoo artists to print their unique creations in wearable form. UK and Nepal based tattooer Tatt Art Nepal makes organic cotton tote bags featuring his Himalayan inspired fusion designs, blurring the boundaries between art and fashion. Those who choose to cover themselves in tattoos add yet another aesthetic layer to traditional ensembles, showing the ever evolving nature of culture. Many of Nepal’s ethnic groups have traditional tattoo practices. Heritage art often lends itself to creating striking tattoo designs, offering a wealth of possibilities for self-expression through ink.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010211014_e4f6faf5c3c48f8c34ee67ab97d479b9ecdde9e12ba61fab96d3c8172355887a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025010211014_e4f6faf5c3c48f8c34ee67ab97d479b9ecdde9e12ba61fab96d3c8172355887a" data-rendition-name="original" width="3327" height="3327" loading="lazy" alt="fusion3"> </figure>  “I am always fond of wearing traditional clothes. Mostly my grandmom and granddad’s vintage stuff,” says Kathmandu-based stylist StyledbyShreya. “I feel like tattoos are ornaments on me and so is traditional clothing: I love all the variations of different cultures.” Nepal’s creatives are exploring fresh ways of interacting with culture, adding yet another level of meaning to classical textiles, jewellery, fashion, and art. This interactive and energetic approach to Nepal’s design heritage is equally important as a traditional or academic one in promoting the country’s rich and diverse cultures across the world. By harmoniously blending personal and community identities, Nepal’s designers, tattooers, stylists, and consumers are contributing to keeping valuable skills and knowledge alive ­­­-- and having fun while doing it. Isabelle Shrestha is a writer and creative based between Scotland and Nepal, and holds a degree in Japanese and Tibetan from the University of Oxford.

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

Here & Now

Fusion Fashion

Between the 1980s and 2000s, over 5,000 <a href="https://download.ssrn.com/11/01/06/ssrn_id1736064_code1383023.pdf?response-content-disposition=inline&amp;X-Amz-Security-Token=IQoJb3JpZ2luX2VjEBkaCXVzLWVhc3QtMSJIMEYCIQCiYUc7BuJ7zaDn%2BOTCFOWBgNKqYarnapqY%2FWZbamFVsgIhAOC%2FPFXHR9Dx6xTicWMj5%2BJXdIEGZ7LxKRyjrCe61Ng9KsYFCPL%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2FwEQBBoMMzA4NDc1MzAxMjU3IgzWD1Y1XNz2kaOS3jEqmgX0TbxyBTTrZrpd%2B5N72pFzJAwc%2BxTF8Dc0GnVG2tUGUYyxBt1YmfEqAw5cdOuRCZV23SSKkJwndg9IwI3yrjZGBp9XKxg4lK4Vq0Qy9RMmma5hNCVnA2T0MwGghlnmkgWPZA5ouZPiKFAecf4PE5qml2fu1wj72LEAig5R77cN6nC6%2BxTcygMiuiHrR9yZB4RyvTD9s58avGqUcn9hcIUdku3ydvAGVEgczzgEMCesRMtSgqzHz3E9bju9QLR5RpcDRp0wptfQ89uGXgyBGLCX%2BAl6uareSxQCSaDOthP4PmswWI7y7kBJbQp1pZq8r56Yoa3Qf5WVtmxbsWmDtbOsaSBa0yB6EIS8RKFGeQ%2Bcz%2BnEsOoPHIS%2BqO1k1%2BQuihjN0T66SnWFo8rl8Cv2g4GghY9p9DR3wopBJ6cE%2FtDJMY%2BZ03LkUwS%2Fc7ckyaRpfPX5g6Bb9J56a%2BNA5lnIV5o%2Fpjp%2BZJaVIvEzciyzzTwP58wznmcy3xppvK%2BwXBzBR96cPMXKTdNv9%2FqJ5jlnsgSRJpHWE3UyHbFucwQYXi19i7mCglFSuSkkL5Tg9nQWvXpuP9Z9VmMlQfQ%2F%2FpsfA6KlL81K3UK%2Bp%2FJB2mxQD9SYexZvAf1g21NUSF%2F8I19orsNrT6LutAnoJU%2FOTgO3qMbdgnR%2FuBytI3POnQAEIfbG0Za%2FrEDJ9j8CEbasNXsBMqkx8JKGRG2PUHMRC2xl5Z%2BNIbpsqGB8t%2BvAt40osDpgZStiyeiGdC1nMakUzZtBjWlttzoirCdemwPKJ8M%2BEohj2%2BLEN92yaOKdFewns0gjh%2BUxcotGvBo%2F7QZFappBNjLlR0PyanjcuB4MndEQjeIrd67ntscTKiLDI%2FfzwCHulsl6nbMpewpWFAYwg67guwY6sAGb3VJ2q%2F36hWhrVa8igP2hswnnLlcIU2uhOZa5ge2hCXkUYhL1BcSJfoWy2LwrWCXtdFo%2BT7KMU3p6O3jySdxSop8F4iO%2BJBiXVjSiXm%2FqZo3ri8sVwUgo4ksJI%2BT4AbfK3D3VGYapBgU5LdX%2FjkNwSVoR1vz4vMIyF56i7MKeYG1nFLgc0l9cIjrQI6eY869uIbgZ1XKqqBsuavCbYjSbSy7dMP0QSym%2FgmoWILGE0Q%3D%3D&amp;X-Amz-Algorithm=AWS4-HMAC-SHA256&amp;X-Amz-Date=20250103T172339Z&amp;X-Amz-SignedHeaders=host&amp;X-Amz-Expires=300&amp;X-Amz-Credential=ASIAUPUUPRWE65YAH56X%2F20250103%2Fus-east-1%2Fs3%2Faws4_request&amp;X-Amz-Signature=9b654b526e0779da4fa9f54e2fcde04ac9f7e91fb50d4f8094b1039ebb19e21b&amp;abstractId=1736064">Nepali children were adopted abroad</a>, primarily to the United States, France, and Spain. While international adoption was intended to provide vulnerable children with better opportunities, child trafficking and irregular practices prompted Nepal to suspend adoptions in 2007, and overhaul its policies. By 2010, stricter regulations aligned with the <a href="https://www.hcch.net/en/instruments/conventions/specialised-sections/intercountry-adoption">Hague Adoption Convention</a> drastically reduced adoption numbers. Today, many of these children, now adults, are returning to Nepal in search of their roots, only to encounter a society that no longer recognises them, legally or socially. Behind the statistics lie the <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01GRNPPXAC1Z3AETV9HARNCG5Q">deeply personal and emotional journey</a> of adoptees returning to reconnect with their past, seek family, and rediscover a sense of belonging. These stories reflect a broader struggle for identity and the complexities of bridging two worlds. Maya Adopted at 9 by a family in Barcelona, Maya carried fragmented memories of her early life in Nepal including the painful recollection of the day her mother and sister vanished, leaving her and her younger siblings behind. She had faint images of her mother, elder sister, and the village where she once lived. In June 2017, Maya came to Nepal accompanied by Chandra Kala and two friends, Jay and Vikram. With only a few photographs of her mother Tulsi, her elder sister Pargati, and her brother-in-law Kamal, along with a street name, Maya arrived in Birendranagar after a 20-hour bus ride from Kathmandu. “Now that we’re close, I feel like I can’t face them,” she confessed to Chandra Kala, wrestling with anxiety about what she might uncover. “I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll recognise them or if they’ll recognise me. I don’t know how they’ll react or what they’ll say. And then there’s him [Kamal]. I have such bad memories of him. I don’t know if I can handle this.” Chandra Kala reassured her, reminding her of her courage and the importance of this moment. Maya and her companions asked around the town with little success until a shopkeeper recognised Kamal and directed them to a nearby village. Jay went to confirm and returned excitedly, shouting, “It’s her! It’s your sister!” Maya froze, paralysed by fear and anticipation but she pushed ahead. At the village, Maya’s sister Pargati initially struggled to recognise her. Jay introduced Maya: “Do you recognise her? This is your younger sister. She’s come all the way from Spain to find you.” Slowly, realisation dawned, and the two women embraced, bridging the decades of separation with tears and disbelief. The next day, Maya met her mother Tulsi in an emotionally overwhelming reunion. Tulsi rushed into the room and embraced Maya tightly, sobbing uncontrollably: “Mero chhora-chhori, gaye, gaye… my children they went, they went …” Once the tears subsided, Tulsi and Pargati began recounting the heartbreaking circumstances of their separation. After the death of her husband, Tulsi faced relentless judgment in their village when Kamal stayed with the family before his marriage to Pargati. The villagers accused Tulsi of impropriety, calling her पापी (sinful) and demanded that the family leave. “We didn’t want to leave, but the village didn’t want us here,” explained Pargati. “We left intending to bring you and your siblings later. But when we returned, you were gone.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>An adoptee and companion return to Bal Mandir in Kathmandu after 19 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  Tulsi recalled how she had entrusted Maya and her siblings to relatives, hoping they would be cared for temporarily. However, when she returned, the children had been sent away without her knowledge. “I only trusted them because I had no other choice,” Tulsi said through tears. “I didn’t know they would send my children away. What kind of mother does that make me? They called me a bad mother, but what else could I have done?” The reunion brought healing and answers but it also exposed the societal pressures that had fractured Maya’s family. Despite the challenges, Maya spent the rest of her visit bonding with her sister, nieces, and younger half-sister, Sunita, slowly bridging the gaps created by time and distance. Maya’s journey was a testament to the courage required to confront the past, the pain of uncovering difficult truths, and the hope of rebuilding connections once lost. Her story highlights the enduring emotional complexity faced by adoptees navigating their history and identity. Ashmita Unlike some adoptees whose main focus is reuniting with their biological family, 26-year-old Ashmita’s priority has been to uncover the institutional details surrounding her adoption. She wanted to understand what the orphanage and the government knew about her background and why so much information seemed concealed. “I just want to know where I come from,” she said. “Even if I never find my biological family, having a better sense of the places and people connected to my story would mean so much.” For many adoptees, returning to Nepal is not just about reconnecting emotionally, it is about seeking formal recognition as members of the Nepali community. However, the legal framework in Nepal often fails to acknowledge their unique status.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>A mother reunites with her don after 18 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  In Nepali law, adoptees are left in limbo: their birth parents are not considered legal parents, and their ties to the country are effectively erased upon adoption. This lack of recognition creates significant hurdles, particularly in two key areas: accessing pre-adoption records and obtaining Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) status. Despite international norms like the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which guarantees the right to know one’s origins, institutions often refuse to cooperate. Orphanages and non-profits in Nepal, which hold critical pre-adoption records such as birth certificates and citizenship documents, frequently withhold this information, reflecting the systemic reluctance to provide transparency. In numerous cases, records that should include family names, addresses, or relinquishment agreements were either incomplete or falsified. These practices not only prevent adoptees from reclaiming their histories but also perpetuate their disconnection from their heritage. Ashmita’s initial requests for information from her adoption agency were met with delays and incomplete responses. When she turned to the orphanage where she spent her early years, she encountered even greater resistance. At one point, the director of the orphanage issued veiled threats. Nevertheless, Ashmita persisted and managed to find the name of the individual who had brought her to the orphanage. However, the person had disappeared, leaving yet another gap in her story. A breakthrough came when Ashmita accessed a police report that suggested she might have been born in a different municipality than the one in her adoption records, prompting her to seek help from local authorities. The police took an interest in her case and began investigating possible connections to her birth family. While progress was slow, they meticulously followed leads to help her trace her origins. “It’s not easy,” Ashmita said of the process. “But every small step feels like I’m piecing something back together.” She also noted that societal perceptions could add to the difficulty. At times, she felt questioned about her identity and her right to seek answers. “People have asked me why I care so much or even suggested that I’m not Nepali anymore because I was adopted abroad,” she reflected. Ashmita’s story is a complex account of persistence in the face of institutional and personal challenges. While her search has not yet provided all the answers she seeks, it continues to offer her insights into her early life and the systems that shaped her adoption journey. &nbsp;“These records are sealed for a reason. They are not meant to be reopened,” said a government official. Even an NGO representative said: “It’s better for everyone if the past remains in the past.” An orphanage director asked: “Why are you asking these questions? This is not your place anymore.” Hari Prasad Sacré The Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) card is a lifeline for Nepali diaspora members, granting them residency and property rights in Nepal. Yet, adoptees are notably excluded from this framework. While the law stipulates eligibility for individuals whose parents or grandparents were Nepali citizens, it makes no provision for adoptees whose legal ties to their Nepali parents were severed by adoption. When Hari Prasad Sacré, a Nepali adoptee, sought to obtain an NRN card at the Nepal Embassy in Belgium, he encountered officials unfamiliar with processing an NRN request from an adoptee. His case was the first of its kind, setting a precedent but also highlighting the systemic barriers adoptees face. "You are not eligible; your surname is Sacré, it is not a Nepali name," an embassy staff said.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5" data-rendition-name="original" width="446" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>Hari Prasad Sacré receives tika from his father Khul Prasad Adhikari during Dasain, a few weeks after receiving his NRN card. Photo: HARI PRASAD SACRÉ</figcaption> </figure>  Sacré’s situation was legally ambiguous. Although his biological parents, including his father, Khul Prasad Adhikari, are alive and he maintains contact with them, he no longer had “legal” ties to Nepal due to the adoption process. Carrying a Belgian surname the embassy staff was initially convinced the adoptee couldn’t claim Nepali origin. Nepali law, which does not recognise biological parents as legal guardians once a child is adopted, created complications for the NRN application. To navigate this complexity, Sacré relied on a testimony from his father. Issued by a local government body in Kaski, the testimony affirmed that Hari had been put up for adoption and was of Nepali origin. While this enabled the embassy to approve his NRN card, the process was unnecessarily protracted and emotionally charged, highlighting the inadequacy of current policies to accommodate the unique situations of adoptees. Sacré’s case represents a rare instance where biological parents were alive and willing to provide testimony, but many adoptees are not as fortunate. A large number of adoptees were declared “orphans” during the adoption process, even when their parents were alive. This severed their legal ties to Nepal, stripping them of documentation that could later prove their origin. For others, the absence of living biological relatives or access to their original adoption records creates insurmountable barriers. Without clear documentation or a family member to vouch for their Nepali heritage, adoptees are excluded from the NRN framework. This denies them the rights and privileges afforded by the card, including property rights, legal recognition, and a formal connection to their homeland. Current laws fail to account for the complexities of adoptees’ legal status, leaving them disconnected from their cultural and legal heritage. Adoption papers, as evidence of Nepali descent, should be accepted as proof, granting adoptees rightful access to the NRN card and ensuring their inclusion in Nepal’s diaspora. Such reforms are crucial to ensure that all adoptees, regardless of their circumstances, can reclaim their heritage and establish a sense of belonging in Nepali society. Without these changes, the systemic exclusion of adoptees will persist, perpetuating inequities and denying them the opportunity to step up as active members of the Nepali diaspora. Sacré’s case serves as both a precedent and a call to action. It exemplifies the challenges and triumphs of adoptees navigating complex bureaucracies and advocates for a more inclusive and equitable approach to reconnecting adoptees with their homeland. Nepal can draw inspiration from South Korea, where the government has actively supported the reintegration of adoptees into their society. The F4 visa, established through efforts by organisations like the Global Overseas Adoptees’ Link (GOA'L), grants adoptees the right to live and work in Korea, while dual citizenship acknowledges their dual identity as members of the diaspora and their country of origin. GOA’L further fosters reconnection by offering language classes and cultural exchange programs, creating opportunities for meaningful reintegration and belonging. As Nepal refines its NRN citizenship framework, explicitly including adoptees could address the severance of legal and cultural ties caused by international adoption. Such inclusion would provide adoptees a pathway to residency, citizenship, and rights, enabling them to reconnect with their heritage. Complementing this with programs for language acquisition, cultural immersion, and historical education would honour Nepal’s responsibility to the approximately 5,000 children sent abroad. Nepal could establish a dedicated organisation similar to South Korea’s GOA’L and help adoptees access pre-adoption records, navigate legal processes, and engage in cultural exchange initiatives. It would also serve as a bridge between adoptees and Nepali society, fostering mutual understanding and collaboration. This article is based on doctoral studies by <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01H4Z85GPS63ZWDJ3WB2E6KS70">Hari Prasad Sacré</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10357823.2022.2142932">Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez</a>. Hari Prasad Sacré, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at Ghent University in Belgium, specialising in cultural translation, multilingualism, and identity in education. His PhD, Reading Illiteracy, explored fractured multilingualism and illiteracy in displaced identities such as adoptees, with work published in leading journals like Critical Arts and the European Journal for Cultural Studies. Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at the AFIN Research Group, Autonomous University of Barcelona, with a PhD in Social Anthropology. Her research focuses on family strategies, reproductive decisions, and adoption, with extensive fieldwork in Spain and Nepal examining adoptee reunions and related governance and rights.

Searching for a homeland away from home

As with every new year, 2025 also brings new fashion trends. Ever-changing styles prompt people to follow a handful of global brands. The fashion industry is designed for quick turnover, and the planned obsolescence of what is currently ‘in’. Even with greater public consciousness about the environment, the industry has seldom responded with more sustainable choices of fabric, better treatment of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/uneven-pandemic-impact-on-nepali-women">its labour force</a>, or efforts to reduce waste. The global fashion industry accounted for 10% of all <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-doubles-its-carbon-footprint">carbon emissions </a>in 2019, and it is the second-largest consumer of water, according to UNEP. Which is why there is now a move towards ‘sustainable fashion’ so consumers can make choices that benefit both the planet and the people making the products. “Sustainable fashion is a lifestyle choice,” explains Meena Gurung, founder of Bora Studio, which uses natural fabrics and dyes in its clothes. “It’s about how we live and what we choose to wear, being humble, being content with what we already have, and finding happiness in simplicity.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250102120112_1805b38cb84eda05005e5f22bcd6545387d2fc225bb58e25c4ed98cf083c3963.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250102120112_1805b38cb84eda05005e5f22bcd6545387d2fc225bb58e25c4ed98cf083c3963" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="fabric2"><figcaption>Photo: BORA STUDIO</figcaption></figure>  But Gurung is not too fond of the term ‘sustainable fashion’ because she feels that the concept has been commodified, turning it into a marketing buzzword to greenwash products that are actually about greenbacks. She adds: “True sustainability requires conscientious decisions made by both seller and buyer.” Since 2017 at Bora Studio, Gurung has been exploring natural, locally sourced fabrics like hemp, bamboo, nettle and raw silk, along with plant-dyeing and botanical printing. These fabrics provide eco-friendly alternatives to conventional textiles and require less resources like water and chemicals. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/alternative-lifestyle-alternative-art">Alternative lifestyle, alternative art</a>, Alisha Sijapati The other fabric from Nepal that is finding buyers worldwide is सिस्नु nettle, which can be a game-changer, as it grows in abundance even in wild, dry areas and regenerates quickly. Hemp also grows wild, and has proven to be a popular raw material for clothing and bags. Bamboo grows in abundance all over the mid-mountains, and among its multiple uses, its pulp can also be turned into an organic fabric. Mala Thapa Magar of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-the-fibres-of-success,541">Himalayan Allo Udhyog</a> is one of the top suppliers of woven nettle textile and clothing from Nepal. She says, “Nettle fabric is smooth, strong, light and durable. It has great potential, although production is challenging because it has to be harvested from remote forests. Transporting it is difficult.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250102120120_ac01c3cb9854788f74960b641066a4deef6cd721296cf3e26c82a85c01a58bfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250102120120_ac01c3cb9854788f74960b641066a4deef6cd721296cf3e26c82a85c01a58bfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="nettle"><figcaption>Photo: HIMALAYAN ALLO UDHYOG</figcaption></figure>  Stinging nettle grows and decomposes in the wild, and sustainably harvesting the plants has a minimal ecological footprint. Despite its abundance in the forest undergrowth, however, lack of awareness and difficulties in harvesting and transportation means the true potential to turn this plant into a silk-like fabric has not been fully realised. When it comes to sourcing new fabric, Meena Gurung personally visits various parts of Nepal, relying on small-scale industries and local artisans who weave using traditional material in their homes. “The quality may not always be perfect, but knowing that the raw material is local and natural gives me peace of mind,” says Gurung, whose company also recycles and reuses what has already come in. She does not use refined silk because of the larval loss and harm to the environment, and does not source raw silk for bigger projects, purposely limiting its demand. Mass production, she believes, undermines the very essence of sustainability. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/weaving-the-fabric-of-a-new-life">Weaving the fabric of a new life</a>, Sahina Shrestha “Sustainability doesn’t always have to be expensive or difficult,” she says. “You can start by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/upscaling-upcycling">reusing and recycling</a> what you, or your parents and grandparents have. Swap clothes with friends. You can live sustainably without spending a fortune.” Gurung and Magar are two women Nepali social entrepreneurs who are making a mark with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/fashionable-naturally?fbclid=IwAR0uozGYxFn52umG0ohDdnDVBJ0-sIHywo8Va5_9rl-uPH-jkWJ_flLYXXo">nature-friendly products</a> that are also socially beneficial. Their work forces us to question what we eat and wear every day, where the products we use come from, how they are made, where they go, and what happens along the way. Turning to sustainable fashion in 2025 could be one new year’s resolution that will benefit people and the planet.

Seams sustainable

Nepali men in the border towns of the Tarai are usually content with a well-paying job, preferably in India. Young Dev Narayan Mandal was no different.&nbsp; After completing Grade 10, he went across the border to become an office boy. Now 38, Mandal has made a name for himself <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tales-of-2-cities?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR1TorPy46Gnnji1LT6JHn86xRfdy93m3tfr5K5t6q6bhnodiajrvJ6be5o_aem_SkP11W_bPNeMybGkWdoC7Q">in Madhes Province</a> for his nature conservation work, and is now moving on to cultural preservation. &nbsp; He is behind the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mini-forests-to-make-kathmandu-more-liveable">Mithila Wildlife Trust</a> that has over the past ten years restored forests in degraded land, conserved the region’s snake population and invested in snakebite mitigation.&nbsp; “Though my academic background is very different, it was my personal interest that steered me towards wildlife conservation,” says Mandal who worked as an accountant in the Indian non-profit Wildlife SOS for seven years before returning to Nepal with a keen interest in nature protection.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091224_1e94b050cedc88edf8f8ae266f415ff29606e0199a430f6de8b3523c9f16f83a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241226091224_1e94b050cedc88edf8f8ae266f415ff29606e0199a430f6de8b3523c9f16f83a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The Mithila Dream"> </figure>  At Wildlife SOS, Mandal worked with 200 rescued circus bears. It was not part of his job, but he liked tagging along during the operations in which the bears were. During one vacation back home in Dhanusha, he was aghast seeing the lush forest near his home completely denuded.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-boy-and-the-boar">The Boy and the Boar</a>, Philip Holmes He quit his job in India and returned to set up Mithila Wildlife Trust, and collaborated with Dhanusa’s Department of Forestry, to Dhanusadham declaring it an 'illicit felling and grazing free zone'. One thing always leads to another, and the snakes returned.&nbsp; Mandal realised just what a big toll in human life snake bites were taking, and people were killing even non-venomous snakes out of fear. He started educating people to identify dangerous snakes, their behaviour and habitat.&nbsp; “There were many more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/the-snake-bite-emergency">snakebite deaths</a> than what was being recorded. Every household was suffering,” says Mandal, who recalls villagers calling him every time they saw a snake instead of killing it on the spot, like they did before. Mandal believes firmly in the coexistence of wild animals alongside humans.&nbsp; Mithila Wildlife Trust works with the UK-based Pipal Tree Foundation in strategic reforestation, and Mandal has introduced the Miyawaki Method of restoring compact forests packed with native species. Within three years, the Miyawaki plots are now dense jungle.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091224_87d3bf757e9c0a168fba0bfd5dc56ca6a7142e34893e1ef5b32bf136a674755c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241226091224_87d3bf757e9c0a168fba0bfd5dc56ca6a7142e34893e1ef5b32bf136a674755c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="The Mithila Dream"> <figcaption>Mandal introduced the Miyawaki Method of restoring compact forests.</figcaption> </figure>  “Unlike the Dhanusadham forest, we did not have to wait up to 10-15 years to see the impact of our work here,” a satisfied Mandal told us one recent afternoon. Local villagers are allowed to harvest deadwood, twigs and leaves and they protect the forest. Native birds and burrowing animals have returned. One animal that made a recent guest appearance was a fox. Mandal stops and points his camera towards the undergrowth, and only his trained eye could see the bushy tailed brown animal in the bushes.&nbsp; After bringing back nature, Mandal is now trying to save his native Mithila heritage, for which he has opened a Cultural Village in Dhanusadham. “It will take you back to the Madhesh that was 30 years earlier,” explains Mandal, showing a visitor around mud-thatched huts with vibrant Mithila paintings on the walls, and where guests can savour authentic Mithila thali. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepal-s-conservation-heroes">Remembering Nepal’s conservation heroes</a>, Ghana Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091224_f410cffa145e0dcf3148651f6be4e726ba8d77c041fc9391d50f3172a36f3047.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241226091224_f410cffa145e0dcf3148651f6be4e726ba8d77c041fc9391d50f3172a36f3047" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="The Mithila Dream"> </figure>  The Cultural Village also generates income to sustain the Mithila Wildlife Trust and offers a quiet venue for residencies, workshops and conferences. In fact, everything in the village is authentic and self-sustaining.&nbsp; “All the food in the restaurant is sourced from our own vegetable farms, the waste is turned into fertiliser. Nothing is thrown away,” he says. &nbsp; Madhes Province ranks one of the lowest in terms of human development in Nepal, but Mandal’s work is a model for other provinces in how to practice development that is sustainable and does not end up destroying nature. He adds: “Conservation has to be self-sustaining, this model can be replicated in any locality, and even upscaled to the national level.”&nbsp;

The Mithila Dream

This is the 55th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. Trying to escape being recruited by the Maoists, and running out of options in Nepal, I dropped out of school and paid Rs300,000 to a recruiter to take me to the UAE on a tourist visa.&nbsp; I was stranded there for two months, and just as my visa was about to expire, I landed a job in the warehouse of an American base in Afghanistan. Within three months, I got promoted to a Senior Supervisor which irked some of my colleagues who had been working there for seven years. I was already also feeling discriminated against by my Nepali colleagues, except one colleague from Taplejung who had a good heart. One day, a bomb exploded in a container with food items, killing nine people. I had enough and returned to Nepal. When you are so close to death, you reassess your life choices. In my 17 months in Afghanistan, I had earned close to Rs3 million which helped me buy land and build a house. In Kathmandu, I came across an ad in Kantipur for Korean language classes, and without even returning to Janakpur I enrolled. The EPS language test was just 58 days away, and there were people who had been preparing for the Korean language test for up to three years. The odds were stacked against me. I studied for the exam as though my life depended on it. I aced the mock exams. I ranked first out of 600 students, and this reminded me of my childhood when I was a class topper. It was the financial situation that had made me discontinue my studies. I managed to pass the exam, the only person out of the 36 living in our rented building. I went to Korea and worked in manufacturing. Three months into my stint, my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I came home for a month to take care of him.&nbsp; Even if I did not have liquid cash, I knew I had a job waiting for me in Korea and could have borrowed money to take my father to India. My only priority was to keep my father alive. But the doctor said his case was terminal.&nbsp; He was discharged from hospital, and we brought him home. As I left for Korea, he could not speak properly but acknowledged that I was leaving and gestured his blessings. He died a week later. I was at work, and went to my room to grieve. I declined my employer’s offer to buy me a ticket home as I had already lost my father. I mourned for him for a week in my room. In the five years there, I repaid the loans I had taken for my father’s medical bills and even had some savings. I could have renewed my contract in Korea for another five years, but I decided against it.&nbsp; Of course, it was exhilarating to be paid Rs200,000 a month in my bank account, but I had worked for others all my life, and now that I had made some money, I wanted to do something on my own in Nepal. The technical skills I had accumulated working in a car company were not very applicable here. But I also learnt many other things in Korea like work ethic, respect for peers, and discipline. I bought a used machine that makes notebooks and set up Rudraksha, a notebook factory.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  I hired a former worker from the same factory I had bought the machine from and he taught me how to operate it and about the stationery business. Seven years later, he is still working with me.&nbsp; It is in Korea that I learnt how bosses and staff work side-by-side and there is no task that is too big or small. I know that when I work with my staff, it makes them more proactive. I used to deliver the notebooks on my bike to shops all over my district and beyond. Later I diversified and took on dealership of brands like Natraj, Cello and Doms. This spread out my income sources naturally because it was related to my notebook factory . Things were going well until the pandemic hit and I suffered a huge loss. The notebooks in stock were all damaged. I was idle, so I became a dealer for Bikaji and expanded to other brands like Horlicks, Nestle, Dabur Nepal and Tokla tea. As things recovered, my brothers and I dabbled in a shoe factory. Other than instinctively knowing that there was a high demand for affordable shoes in our area, we did not have any prior knowledge or experience in this sector. It was a gamble and the upfront investments were high, but fortunately it has worked out well.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  Our company, TNT, has good designs and finishing at affordable prices and it has attracted customers across Nepal. While there are challenges like fierce competition and high bank interest rates, we are doing quite well for ourselves.&nbsp; Across my portfolio, I am providing jobs to 122 workers. I first started with a Rs150 business as a kid selling plastic bags in a vegetable market for Rs1.25 each. I have come a long way since then. My work has given me recognition in my area, even though I tend to be quite introverted. My community members who have watched me since I was little tell me that I am a legend in the tea shops as someone who rose from nothing to be a successful entrepreneur.&nbsp; With my father’s salary as a teacher, we did not even have money to buy school uniforms. I value hard work and that is what I tell young people. When I am on someone’s payroll, I take ownership of the work. I do not let time dictate my work schedule.&nbsp; If I can stay an extra ten minutes to solve something, I do not leave it for tomorrow. Little things like this matter. For those of us without a strong family back-up, foreign employment can be beneficial. But I have also met a few people who were overseas who are still there.&nbsp; Their children are now also overseas. Those stories are a bit disheartening. I am not sure why things are that way. Perhaps people overspend and do not prioritise savings? I was one of the first workers in Korea from our Maithili community and I did not have many friends from the Tarai there. Towards the end of my stay there, I met a few here and there. Many from our villages opt for overseas employment opportunities where agents just hand over their visas at a price. I remind young people to be patient and take up language classes so they can benefit from higher paying jobs.&nbsp; Working hard has not stopped even now. I want to leave a legacy. Let’s see what the future holds. My next goal is to start a pen factory. &nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal

Just as Nepal’s cybersphere was sharing photographs of a snowless Mt Machapuchre, the country’s first hot-air balloon festival got off the ground in Pokhara on Tuesday. It starkly juxtaposed the global climate crisis with the carbon footprint of tourism. As luck would have it, a westerly front finally arrived, sugar-coating the black pyramid of Machapuchre temporarily with a dusting of snow. The festival, organised by Balloon Nepal, had BYD as main sponsor. The EV-maker unveiled its battery-powered M6 minivan at the event. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091212_c7e479162b478df65556ebf71b65f5d8c2a45aa6e66a2da381055347c0e3926e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226091212_c7e479162b478df65556ebf71b65f5d8c2a45aa6e66a2da381055347c0e3926e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1722" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> <figcaption>Mt Machapuchre in December 2023 (above) and last week (below). Besides the lack of seasonal snow on the mountain, the ice-cap has also melted due to climate breakdown. Photo: RAJESH KC</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091212_a117ab60c32a85af78f1f0ebabf27c90097897f38f9bedcd0e35575727615cb8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226091212_a117ab60c32a85af78f1f0ebabf27c90097897f38f9bedcd0e35575727615cb8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1595" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> <figcaption>Photo: YUNIS GURUNG</figcaption> </figure>  The festival puts Nepal on the global adventure destination map, as Pokhara adds ballooning to a list of leisure activities including bungee, zipline, paragliding, ultra-lights, canyoning, and whitewater rafting.&nbsp; Pilots from Spain, France, US, UK, Latvia, Germany, Laos, Austria, Korea and Italy are taking part in the festival which will run till 1 January. Tickets for a 30-minute ride for Nepalis costs Rs11,000. Foreigners pay more.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_ab53d91975c02dfd80016d11826f7e6192dbed9d7553c35e39bd8b663b4f1e78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241226091216_ab53d91975c02dfd80016d11826f7e6192dbed9d7553c35e39bd8b663b4f1e78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> <figcaption>All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_34712c945e70d4b8371effd4ee95479440b6f2709594ad326cffb43feb447106.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241226091216_34712c945e70d4b8371effd4ee95479440b6f2709594ad326cffb43feb447106" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_9a708a4c8f474df455452271ef47b3c481a4dd01ea3710cc8eacb1dbfbf23f58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241226091216_9a708a4c8f474df455452271ef47b3c481a4dd01ea3710cc8eacb1dbfbf23f58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>  &nbsp;The Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) published a NOTAM for an airspace radius of 3km over Pokhara as no-fly. This will affect paragliders, helicopter flights, but not flights at Pokhara International Airport. The balloons are expected to conduct 500 commercial flights lifting 3,000 passengers for stunning sunrise and sunset views of the Annapurnas. This will happen only 6-9am and 4-6pm when the temperature is cooler. The festival also has a daily 20-minute firework display and night flights with glowing balloons.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_bfb1e126b313d87a8ac5c56e1165c7368b4a0de85a71b110ee926b019236ce0a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241226091216_bfb1e126b313d87a8ac5c56e1165c7368b4a0de85a71b110ee926b019236ce0a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_284a218f272f1d596532d68591ed1df6de27b471fb0702884030a5d551256907.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241226091216_284a218f272f1d596532d68591ed1df6de27b471fb0702884030a5d551256907" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_2e4c0b1175b44ddc1c6fdbd7a3a0d53022f3f651d85c65399b63326ed9d6f95f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241226091216_2e4c0b1175b44ddc1c6fdbd7a3a0d53022f3f651d85c65399b63326ed9d6f95f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>  Balloon Nepal was established in 2016 and started operating flights in Pokhara in 2018. The festival is designed to take advantage of Pokhara’s topography and location.&nbsp; There are food stalls, games, and performances from national and local artists, bands, and DJs in Pame’s carnival atmosphere. &nbsp;Also on 29-30 December, the Chinese Embassy is partnering with Gandaki Province, Pokhara Metropolitan City and Nepal Tourism Board to host its second annual Dragon Boat Race on Phewa Lake. Altogether, 32 teams from China, Nepal and Singapore are taking part.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091212_8fa567a6861be68a2d30abc4f5a005d9eb66ae5437dd01392e080b675eb42324.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241226091212_8fa567a6861be68a2d30abc4f5a005d9eb66ae5437dd01392e080b675eb42324" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_54d94e5d3f10c510058b87a4fd0bf1132b28f2a55ede2ff268f827ef2e84e3f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241226091216_54d94e5d3f10c510058b87a4fd0bf1132b28f2a55ede2ff268f827ef2e84e3f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_e7b05ef6eb6b4398d4317d3b389ec6b677286c1429662f2ea847bd709a21830e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20241226091216_e7b05ef6eb6b4398d4317d3b389ec6b677286c1429662f2ea847bd709a21830e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>  Commercial hot-air ballooning &nbsp;was first tried in Kathmandu Valley in the 1990s by Balloon Sunrise, with takeoffs from Kirtipur and drop zones in Bhaktapur. But air traffic growth and urbanisation put a stop to that.&nbsp; There has also been an attempt to fly a hot-air balloon over Mt Everest, although initial tries by Japanese and British-Australian teams were unsuccessful. The gondola crew struggled with hypoxia as the jetstream blew the balloon over Everest to China. The adventure is recorded in Leo Dickinson’s book Ballooning Over Everest, and a video on YouTube.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_351f2852139e94342557c5b6392178199482b75eb9dd4f1f189fa94418f215f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20241226091216_351f2852139e94342557c5b6392178199482b75eb9dd4f1f189fa94418f215f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091216_23b0ab57235c1c6ab6a733cac8802c15da3996d0ca6ac24881638b6a327c00f7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20241226091216_23b0ab57235c1c6ab6a733cac8802c15da3996d0ca6ac24881638b6a327c00f7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Up, up, and away"> </figure>  Austrian mountaineer Wolfgang Nairz also conducted flights over Chitwan in 2003 during the Everest Golden Jubilee Year. There are still unexplored sites for hot-air ballooning in Nepal, including Chitwan National Park, Rara and Manang. Tethered balloons over Lumbini could be an attraction for pilgrims and tourists, as it is at Angkor Wat.&nbsp; Similar festivals happen all around the world: in Turkey, Qatar, New Mexico, Bristol, Japan, and France. The sight of these massive objects, gliding silently across the landscape amidst stunning natural backdrops, make for a memorable spectacle. &nbsp;&nbsp; Vishad Raj Onta BYD International Balloon Festival 2024, &nbsp;Pokhara, Till 1 January 2025&nbsp;

Up, up, and away

Vali: My brother Sugriva stole the kingdom. What is my crime? Even if I have wronged my brother, you have no right to kill me. I helped you rescue your wife Sita from the clutches of Ravana, the king of the Rakshas, and your father, King Dasharatha, helped our father, King Indra, in the battle against the Rakshas. Rama: You should treat your brother Sugriva as a son. Even if he errs, you must forgive him. He promised to respect your life. Sugriva received the power to punish evil from King Bharata. You lost your kingdom after fighting Mayavi, and now you are no longer a king. This dialogue between King Vali of Kishkindha and his younger brother Sugriva, just before Vali’s death at the hands of Rama, an avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu, is from the Hindu epic Ramayana which is deeply influenced traditional Asian culture and art, teaching lessons about reconciliation and the essence of life. In Thailand, it is told as ‘Pali Son Nong (Pali teaches his younger brother) in the Ramakian, the Thai version of the Ramayana. This story introduces us to Ban Lom Klao, the site of a sibling-like conflict between Thailand and Laos.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001252_1277d1ee221b4bf6a73fc31eed20041dbfe62ad84d037ce4ee65db9cc6ee2e0b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241228001252_1277d1ee221b4bf6a73fc31eed20041dbfe62ad84d037ce4ee65db9cc6ee2e0b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4752" height="3168" loading="lazy" alt="The Battlefield of the Sibling War"> <figcaption>Sunset over the Phu Soi Dao Mountains as seen from the Suan Phutsasak Botanical Garden.</figcaption> </figure>  Ban Lom Klao is not a typical tourist destination. It requires not only a keen interest in history but also an adventurous spirit. Ban Lom Klao is not equipped with famous tourist attractions, accommodations, or restaurants. It is a military border zone, and the people here may view strangers with suspicion. Upon arrival, the Border Patrol Police camp near the village has paramilitary soldiers who may offer coffee and bananas. Once identity is checked, they will be more than willing to assist. Suan Phutsasak is a beautiful botanical garden located atop the 1,000m Lom Klao hill and the only accommodation in the area, offering a peaceful stay surrounded by nature. There are breathtaking sunrises and sunsets over the mountain ranges that form the border between Thailand and Laos. To get there, travel east from Phitsanulok, following Route 1237 towards the Laos border. After passing through Chat Trakan, you will reach the Ban Theot Chat junction, where things start to feel tense. Here, you’ll encounter checkpoints and barricades, and the military presence becomes much stronger.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001252_337bc17efb58a2dea64c86789d7dc4d44a2752420512a0f94e51eb1b7487141a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241228001252_337bc17efb58a2dea64c86789d7dc4d44a2752420512a0f94e51eb1b7487141a" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="The Battlefield of the Sibling War"> <figcaption>Hill 1248 in Laos seen from Hill 105 of Thai.</figcaption> </figure>  Continue south for another 10 km on the rough mountain road 1268 to enter Ban Lom Klao. This area was the site of the Thai-Laotian Border War, which took place from December 1987 to February 1988. It was the only full-scale war in modern Southeast Asia where two neighbouring countries fought each other using fighter jets. During the conflict, Thailand deployed 3,000 troops, including four battalions of regular soldiers under the 3rd Army Command, and 10 companies of Thahan Phran (paramilitary border guards). It mobilised heavy weapons such as 155mm field guns and F-4 fighter jets. On the opposing side, Laos sent 1,000 troops, armed with 130mm guns that had a range of 35 km. For two months, the area saw fierce fighting, with Thai and Laotian flags alternating on the battlefield each night. Over 1,000 casualties were reported on both sides. In the aftermath of the war, the two countries agreed to establish a 3km demilitarised zone between Lom Klao and Hill 1428 in Laos. This left a lingering territorial dispute that remains unresolved to this day, with 44 sq km still contested.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001252_ecd46916715fb975667eb23e9e3850190c51ef03206333f43866fd1597a27f8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241228001252_ecd46916715fb975667eb23e9e3850190c51ef03206333f43866fd1597a27f8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="686" loading="lazy" alt="The Battlefield of the Sibling War"> <figcaption>Laotian troops during the Lom Klao Battle.</figcaption> </figure>  The historical relationship between Thailand and Laos goes back centuries, with the two kingdoms intertwined since the 15th century. The Khorat Plateau, which is now part of Thailand’s northeastern region (Isan), was once part of the Lanxang Kingdom of Laos. This area became a point of contention in the 19th century when the Rattanakosin Kingdom of Thailand annexed Isan. In 1826, Anouvong, the last king of the Kingdom of Vientiane (Laos), led an unsuccessful war to reclaim the region, which ultimately solidified Thailand’s control over Isan. After the Franco-Siamese War (1893), Thailand and France divided Laos into separate territories, with Thailand taking the Khorat Plateau. The Isan people, who shared linguistic, cultural, and ethnic ties with Laos, were divided by the Mekong River, which now separated Thailand to the west from Laos to the east. Despite this division, the strong sense of kinship between the people of Isan and Laos has persisted. The relationship between Thailand and Laos, however, became more complicated in the 20th century. After Laos gained independence in 1953, it aligned with Vietnam, and relations between the two countries worsened. In the 1960s, the Communist Party of Thailand (CPT), supported by Laos, engaged in armed struggles that further strained ties. The border area, including Lom Klao, became a key location for the CPT’s operations, which eventually led to the Thai-Laotian Border War in 1987. The roots of this war can be traced back to a series of border skirmishes in 1983-1984, particularly over three villages: Ban Mai, Ban Sawang, and Ban Klang, located 60 km north of Lom Klao. Thailand claimed these villages as part of Uttaradit Province, while Laos insisted they were part of Sainyabuli Province.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001252_c115a0139c98db191425940a523c9c686eec85b88a8eae8fa35eff0bc86f80d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241228001252_c115a0139c98db191425940a523c9c686eec85b88a8eae8fa35eff0bc86f80d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1462" height="1099" loading="lazy" alt="The Battlefield of the Sibling War"> <figcaption>Thai troops defending Lom Klao during the Thai-Laos border war.</figcaption> </figure>  The two countries had previously shown little interest in the mountainous region, but in 1979, Laos sent troops to drive out CPT guerrillas who had taken refuge there. The Lao government’s decision to evict the CPT, supported by China, aggravated tensions with Thailand, which had aligned itself with China during the Cold War. In 1983, Thailand declared territorial sovereignty over the area and began constructing roads. The dispute over this region led to Lom Klao becoming a frontline village. Today, the area between Hill 105 on the Thai side and Hill 1248 on the Laotian side remains a demilitarized zone. Access is restricted, and visitors can only enter with special permission.&nbsp; If you're lucky, you might be able to visit Hill 105, located 16 km from Lom Klao village along a rugged mountain path. But to do so, you’ll need authorisation from the village chief and a guide who is familiar with the area, possibly even a former guerrilla fighter. Lom Klao, a place marked by both historical conflict and natural beauty, offers a unique glimpse into a turbulent past. However, it serves as a reminder of the complexities of national borders and the enduring legacies of war.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001252_eb1980817279e4511b2d6b526270636b3145c921eec6cd8e1af78b2be70b11be.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241228001252_eb1980817279e4511b2d6b526270636b3145c921eec6cd8e1af78b2be70b11be" data-rendition-name="original" width="896" height="650" loading="lazy" alt="The Battlefield of the Sibling War"> <figcaption>Thai troops during the 1988 Thai-Laos border war.</figcaption> </figure>

The Battlefield of the Sibling War

While the ‘Golden Triangle’ is well known both in Thailand and internationally, the ‘Emerald Triangle’ remains relatively unfamiliar. This is where the Phu Chong Na Yoi National Park spans 686 sq km of rugged terrain, lies on the border of Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. Once a strategic military zone, it is now a place of historical significance and, surprisingly, a tourism destination. Yet, its past is largely unknown even to most Thais. The conflict that unfolded here between the Thai and Vietnamese armies, known as the Battle of Chong Bok, occurred between January 1985 and December 1987. It remains a largely hidden chapter of the Indochina War.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001240_7266e31448b4a31e35ef46a8cc885455199c0b225c845852e2d99d81e729f844.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241228001240_7266e31448b4a31e35ef46a8cc885455199c0b225c845852e2d99d81e729f844" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="The Emerald Triangle"> <figcaption>Chong Bok battle monument in front of the Anupong base.</figcaption> </figure>  Following the 1978 Vietnamese invasion of Cambodia and the fall of the Khmer Rouge government in 1979, the Khmer Rouge forces fled to the border regions of Thailand, where they regrouped in the mountainous forests along the Thai-Cambodian border. With support from China, the Khmer Rouge continued to destabilise the region, targeting the pro-Hanoi People's Republic of Kampuchea. Throughout the 1980s, the Thai and Vietnamese militaries clashed repeatedly, with the Vietnamese army conducting incursions into Thai territory in pursuit of Khmer Rouge guerrillas. One of the fiercest battles during this period occurred at the Chong Bok Front. On the Cambodian side of the border, near Chong Bok, was a key Khmer Rouge stronghold called ‘Mountain 1001,’ where Khmer Rouge Defense Minister Son Sen had established a base against the Vietnamese. After the Vietnamese army took control of Mountain 1001 in 1980, they clashed with Thai forces along the border. The Vietnamese army, occupying the area, claimed that it belonged to Cambodia, further complicating the territorial disputes. After the Vietnamese withdrew from Cambodia in 1989, Thailand took control of Chong Bok, and the territorial dispute with Cambodia continues to this day. The Emerald Triangle lies about 125 km south of Ubon Ratchathani, at the meeting point of Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. Visitors can reach the Thai Army’s Anupong Base, located on the scenic Phalan Suea Thon Bon Lake, by driving along Road 4121 from Nam Yuen. The base, named after Anupong Bunyaprathip who died during the Battle of Chong Bok is home to the Thai Border Guards (Thahan Phran), a paramilitary force.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001240_6c358ba8b63972249e2daaff4df48a6a8e53e46c03fa83aa871f99bb40709f39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241228001240_6c358ba8b63972249e2daaff4df48a6a8e53e46c03fa83aa871f99bb40709f39" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="The Emerald Triangle"> <figcaption>Thai military’s Anupong Base at the site of the Chong Bok Battlefield.</figcaption> </figure>  Visitors need not worry about encountering hostile troops at the border. A friendly greeting might even result in a peaceful moment by the lake, where soldiers sometimes serve coffee to guests in typical Thai hospitality. Just 1.5 km from the ‘Chong Bok Battlefield’ sign on the lakeside, the borders of Laos and Cambodia are separated by mountains, making it impossible to see them clearly. Yet, the harmony of the mountains, lakes, and skies offers a tranquil and beautiful view—an indigo world of serenity that can be enjoyed from a pavilion by the lake, with the gentle breeze completing the peaceful atmosphere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001240_51d6997efad074c12a74ed0ab1acd57bc3b3b278a252332d3cdc46073fce0686.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241228001240_51d6997efad074c12a74ed0ab1acd57bc3b3b278a252332d3cdc46073fce0686" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="The Emerald Triangle"> <figcaption>The Emerald Triangle sign at the entrance of Chong Bok.</figcaption> </figure>  After soaking in the view, a short drive of about 20 minutes along a narrow mountain road leads to Hill 500, the site of the most intense fighting during the Battle of Chong Bok. Hill 500 is part of the Dangrek Range, alongside Hill 631 and Hill 745. At the top of Hill 500 flies the Thai national flag, and below it stands a monument commemorating Sergeant Major Somchai Kaewpradit, a member of the 1st Infantry Division who died during a battle with the Vietnamese in June 1987.&nbsp; Despite the somber history, the sight of cartoonish soldier dolls holding mortars, rocket launchers, and rifles on a concrete platform brings an unexpected sense of lightness. The colorful, festive welcome signs appear out of place, resembling a Christmas display, but the presence of hidden bunkers and trenches in the surrounding bushes serves as a reminder that this was once a frontline of war. The Communist Party of Vietnam, which claimed leadership over the Communist Parties of Indochina, viewed Thailand as a target for liberation after Laos and Cambodia. This fear of Vietnamese expansion continues to linger in Thai consciousness. In the 1980s, as Vietnamese forces pursued the Khmer Rouge into Thailand, the Thai government feared a conflict. While the Thai army occasionally engaged in limited combat with the Vietnamese, they also allowed incursions to go unchallenged in certain unmanned border areas. Chong Bok was one such location. In March 1987, the Thai government publicly acknowledged the ongoing conflict at Chong Bok. The Vietnamese had occupied Chong Bok Hill with 1,500 troops, building a fortified base with tunnels and trenches.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001240_d263523c8a3b46e5be246c0777d1dca798e6c67ac38483bf7228c14a200c3ec8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241228001240_d263523c8a3b46e5be246c0777d1dca798e6c67ac38483bf7228c14a200c3ec8" data-rendition-name="original" width="3648" height="5472" loading="lazy" alt="The Emerald Triangle"> <figcaption>Monument commemorating the Chong Bok battle at Hill 500.</figcaption> </figure>  The Vietnamese army launched heavy artillery attacks against the Thai forces, which responded with fighter jets and ground troops, suffering 664 casualties. The battle continued until December 1987, with both sides claiming victory. It remains the only highland trench warfare battle on the Thai-Cambodian border. Once the fighting ended, its history faded into obscurity. From Hill 500, if you look about 2 km ahead, the mountains on the left mark Champassak Province in Laos, while the right side leads to Preah Vihear Province in Cambodia. This area, known as the Emerald Triangle, is where the borders of the three countries converge. In 2000, the governments of Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia launched the ‘Emerald Triangle Project’, aiming to develop the area for tourism and agricultural projects. The first proposal was to build a golf course and hotel complex with 27 holes, 9 from each country. The Thai government, dominant in the tourism sector, enthusiastically supported the plan. However, environmental concerns about Phu Chong Na Yoi National Park, as well as territorial disputes between Thailand and Cambodia, soon emerged. By the mid-2000s, the project was abandoned. Thus, the name ‘Emerald Triangle’ was born, yet its dream of development remained unrealised. The more pressing issue, however, is landmines. Over 100,000 mines were laid by the Vietnamese army in the 1980s. The Emerald Triangle Project, which sought to transform this land into a tourist destination, was conceived on a minefield. Worse still, in 2000, the Thai army added more mines to the area.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001240_3810a740fc05e2f25c3d11a5c44cbbd365a8d1070bc637494c2c5a407bfabb83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241228001240_3810a740fc05e2f25c3d11a5c44cbbd365a8d1070bc637494c2c5a407bfabb83" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="The Emerald Triangle"> <figcaption>There are warning signs indicating minefields at various locations in the Battle of Chong Bok.</figcaption> </figure>  The scars of this ill-conceived project still remain in Chong Bok. The fields along the road and the path leading to Hill 500 are lined with landmine warning signs on every tree. The Thai-Cambodian border, particularly in Ubon Ratchathani Province, remains heavily mined, with Nam Yeun—located near Chong Bok—being one of the worst-hit areas. Forty years since the end of the war, less than 20% of the mines have been cleared, and local civilians, soldiers, and villagers continue to fall victim to these hidden dangers. As long as these mines remain, the war is not truly over. Anyone traveling through this historical region should be cautious.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001240_16df3330c4f65577aa7a612e794f60dc5cc0ff90aa0cd19efdf390ab3121d41c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241228001240_16df3330c4f65577aa7a612e794f60dc5cc0ff90aa0cd19efdf390ab3121d41c" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="The Emerald Triangle"> <figcaption>Thai Army's Landmine Clearance Center at the entrance of Chong Bok.</figcaption> </figure>

The Emerald Triangle

Nestled in a remote corner of Nakhon Phanom Province, just 15km from the Laotian border along the Mekong River, lies the small village of Ban Na Bua. Reaching it requires navigating the unmarked local road 203, followed by a side road, 2033. Despite its difficult access, Ban Na Bua holds an important place in modern Thai history: it is the site where the Communist Party of Thailand (CPT) fired its first gunshot on 7 August, 1965. This event marked the beginning of the CPT's armed struggle, and since then, the village has commemorated this day as ‘Gun Firing Day’. Though the communist insurgency ended more than four decades ago, visitors who stumble upon this village are likely to be surprised. The village gate proudly displays a sign that reads "Village of Gun Sound," accompanied by multiple signs remembering the armed struggle.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001228_7094f8dec037c59693fd895a6022aa749061b417ee67d6509bfe6d75493b4aad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241228001228_7094f8dec037c59693fd895a6022aa749061b417ee67d6509bfe6d75493b4aad" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="Ban Na Bua"> <figcaption>A sign announcing the first armed uprising at the entrance to the village of Na Bua.</figcaption> </figure>  The scenery inside the village is equally remarkable: souvenir shops sell items like T-shirts featuring the communist symbol of the sickle and hammer, while traditional Laotian fabrics hang on display. At the center of the village stands a large house painted in the green color of a communist hat, with a red star in the middle. In one corner, there is an exhibition hall showcasing old guns, military uniforms, and communist literature. Walking through the village feels as if one has entered a tourist destination in Laos. Founded in 1891, Ban Na Bua is primarily a Phu Thai village, with 80% of its 2,000 residents having migrated from Laos across the Mekong River. Unlike other former communist villages that have buried their past, Ban Na Bua has embraced its history, transforming into a tourist attraction. However, the village still struggles to attract visitors. "We're all farmers here, but in 2018, the government supported us to develop into a tourist village," explains village chief Nanthawat Chitmad. "Even so, we only get about 2,000 visitors a year, mostly locals and a few foreign tourists. It's hard to get here because of poor transport links, and there are no other tourist attractions nearby.” Despite efforts to promote tourism, Ban Na Bua is missing a key element: the actual site of the first battle. While there are signs throughout the village that read ‘The First Battle Site’, no one seems to know where they are pointing. Outside the village, there is just a wasteland overgrown with weeds. Visitors are left confused and disappointed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001228_702779e0e22b01ce6a6072cf2dd08c732d0d737f3c1ad9322e2c421a5fe9daad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241228001228_702779e0e22b01ce6a6072cf2dd08c732d0d737f3c1ad9322e2c421a5fe9daad" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="Ban Na Bua"> <figcaption>A sign erected on the village of Na Bua indicating where the first gunshot was fired confuses visitors.</figcaption> </figure>  The true history of Ban Na Bua lies elsewhere. The site of the first gunshot fired by the CPT is not in today's Ban Na Bua but in a place called Ban Dong Ai Nam. Nura Chitmad, the last surviving witness to the first battle, offers valuable insight into the historical significance of this location. Now in his eighties, Nura joined the Pathet Lao, the Communist Party of Laos, at the age of 15 in 1956 and fought for five years before returning to Na Bua in 1963 to join the CPT. That same year, the CPT declared an armed struggle. Nura became a leader in the area, training villagers in secret. To reach the real battle site, Nura leads the way. After 2 km along a dirt road, a sparse area of bushes and a few trees come into view—an empty, uninhabited plain. Nura says, "It was once a dense forest, full of trees. Back then, we called this place Pa Pat, but people named it the ‘Battle of Na Bua’ because we were from Na Bua. That's why you won't find the battle site in the village itself. Tourism should properly educate visitors about history." Nura points to a tree stump, marking the site of the first battle, and criticises the tourism efforts for failing to acknowledge its true location. "It was 7 August, 1965. I received orders from our leader, Mit Samnamat, and went into hiding here with eight comrades from the night of the 6th.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001228_16381c4197ad4e8af728685e75fee7d98910a925af1dc9ff7ad4e74311ab191a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241228001228_16381c4197ad4e8af728685e75fee7d98910a925af1dc9ff7ad4e74311ab191a" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="Ban Na Bua"> <figcaption>Nura Chitmad, the sole survivor of the CPT's monumental first battle, points to the actual site of the fighting where is 4km from the village of Na Bua.</figcaption> </figure>  Then, at around 6 a.m. on the 7th, I gave the order to fire, and a battle broke out. Since we were guerrillas, the battle ended in about five minutes. We then crossed over to Nake Village. In the skirmish, police commander Rojanapirom was killed, and one officer was seriously injured. On our side, comrade Satien was killed. Soon, Na Bua village was in chaos. The police stormed in, arrested villagers, and tortured them, claiming they were all communists." The CPT used this battle to signal the start of its 20-year armed struggle. Nearby, about 200m from the battle site, stands a small memorial—a series of black wooden tablets, one meter high, commemorating the twenty-seven comrades who died before Nura.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241228001228_6eb1a44f448185a5c202a2e8691d837a08ac7b4d48f3360e21f44c01ad359fb0.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241228001228_6eb1a44f448185a5c202a2e8691d837a08ac7b4d48f3360e21f44c01ad359fb0" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="603" loading="lazy" alt="Ban Na Bua"> <figcaption>Communist Guerillas in the Isan area.</figcaption> </figure>  "I put them up to honor those who fell before me," he explains. "My dream is to build a real memorial here before I die. I went to the government many times, but nothing came of it. However, some old comrades—doctors and businessmen—purchased land around the battlefield to preserve its history." Today, many prominent figures in Thai society—politicians, businessmen, scholars, and artists—proudly boast about their involvement in the CPT's armed struggle. Yet, it is a tragedy that this historical site is not properly preserved. Whether viewed as honorable or dishonorable, it is the responsibility of our generation to safeguard this part of Thai history and pass it on to future generations.

Ban Na Bua, where the first gunshot was heard

While most Nepalis understand ‘media’ to mean tv (21.5%) and radio (20.6%), younger, urban, and educated audiences also equate Facebook (19.9%) and YouTube (16.9%) with 'media'. In provinces like Sudurpaschim, reliance on radio (40.4%) and tv (30.7%) far outpace digital platforms, but in Bagmati Province, Facebook (35.4%) and YouTube (32.8%) are more common sources of news. Respondents with at least a Bachelor’s degree are far more likely to associate media with both traditional and digital platforms, with 59.3% mentioning tv, 54.7% radio, and 42.1% citing Facebook. Defining Facebook as ‘media’ reflects its accessibility and role in delivering diverse, user-generated content that resonates with younger, urban, and educated audiences. This shift indicates a transition from traditional gatekeeping to algorithm-driven news consumption. Madhes and Karnali Provinces, with lower literacy rates and limited access to electricity and local media outlets, show lower media engagement. On the other hand, Bagmati and Gandaki Provinces have higher adoption of both traditional and digital platforms, indicating that media habits are shaped by infrastructure and socio-economic status.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226151224_88ff2e60339e15f20999c74052a4a4c1ddb5832218221b06fdc3c13bae550f4c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226151224_88ff2e60339e15f20999c74052a4a4c1ddb5832218221b06fdc3c13bae550f4c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  However, a high proportion of ‘Don’t Know’ responses indicates gaps in media awareness, particularly in areas like Madhes Province, and among less-educated populations. For Nepal’s media sector, therefore, the challenge is to navigate this evolving landscape by balancing the strengths of traditional media with the growing demand for accessible and engaging digital content. While digital news is steadily gaining ground, tv and radio remain relevant for significant population segments. Print media, however, is in steady decline. News on mobiles  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_fd348dd2ddfe3b1035accf96a2959c179c80886f24244938276ebfd9288dd91c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226141212_fd348dd2ddfe3b1035accf96a2959c179c80886f24244938276ebfd9288dd91c" data-rendition-name="original" width="868" height="645" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  Digital platforms are increasingly the preferred medium for news, with 46.8% of respondents using the internet (33% of surveyed population) saying they read the news on their mobiles or computers. This trend is most pronounced in Gandaki (69.5%), Bagmati (53.2%), and Kosi (57.0%) Provinces. The younger, better educated are leading this digital shift. For example, 83.3% of respondents with higher education consume news digitally, compared to just 13.1% of illiterate respondents. The gap is evident in regions like Madhes, where only 19.9% engage with digital news, underscoring disparities in access and adoption. This digital transition can be attributed to the accessibility and convenience of mobile devices and the internet, the immediacy of digital news, and the interactive nature of online platforms. Younger and educated audiences increasingly prefer digital platforms for personalised and real-time content, which mainstream press often cannot match. Additionally, the declining relevance of traditional media in some regions stems from their limited ability to adapt to the fast-paced, on-demand consumption habits that digital platforms readily fulfill. This shift underscores the growing importance of technological access and user-centric content in shaping media preferences. Despite its gradual decline, television remains a significant medium, with 37.3% of respondents saying they have watched tv in the past three months. Tv is strongest in Bagmati (48.0%) and Kosi (43.6%) provinces, while Karnali lags at 22.7%. Respondents with higher education (60.7%) are more likely to watch tv than their less-educated counterparts with a notable gender disparity.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_775249f428ea98b1749613cf86585eaadc8382fb8145e2c9c609ddab6e9a7ab4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241226141212_775249f428ea98b1749613cf86585eaadc8382fb8145e2c9c609ddab6e9a7ab4" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="587" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  Radio, once a dominant medium, now caters to a shrinking audience (32.2%). Print media faces the steepest decline (only 13.8% saying they read a newspaper or magazine in the past 6 months), with higher engagement only among urban (28.2%) and educated audiences. Lowest print usage is in Karnali (5.7%). But print still has remarkable staying power among those with higher education (53.4%). Of the surveyed population, 58% say they go to at least one of the legacy media, whereas 73% have internet access. The message for the mainstream press: innovate to remain relevant. Print outlets must rethink strategy, perhaps by targeting urban and educated audiences with specialised or niche content. Previous surveys had shown that many Nepalis would read print if it was available. Nepal’s media landscape is at a tipping point, and the industry must adapt to the changing and diverse needs of an evolving audience. In media we trust  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_d75127854185d1b944d0e2979824c064c3284c706711a41bba47c1ba07f4839b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241226141212_d75127854185d1b944d0e2979824c064c3284c706711a41bba47c1ba07f4839b" data-rendition-name="original" width="844" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  Respondents who primarily associate media with the mainstream press are more likely to express ‘Complete Trust’ or ‘Mostly Trust’ driven by the credibility they have built over the decades. Conversely, digital media audiences, while appreciating its accessibility and interactivity, have cautious optimism about the credibility of their content. Bagmati Province with Kathmandu Valley’s media hub leads in trust, with 47.2% expressing ‘Somewhat Trust’. While urban respondents generally report higher trust levels, there is some skepticism in rural areas. Younger respondents aged 16–24 show the highest levels of trust of digital platforms, highlighting their greater engagement and openness to newer forms of media. By contrast, older demographics, (age 60 and above) show lower trust and more uncertainty about online content. This generational divide shows that legacy media need to meet the expectations of younger audiences, while maintaining relevance for older groups. Respondents with higher education consume media more diversely and report higher trust levels (55.4%), while 45.2% of illiterate respondents remain uncertain, reflecting broader literacy, access, and inclusivity issues in the media landscape. The Nepal Media Survey 2024 shows a media landscape in which traditional and digital media coexist. While trust in media remains relatively strong, significant gaps in representation and accessibility persist across regions, age groups, and educational levels. Not surprisingly, younger urban audiences gravitate towards interactive digital platforms, while older and rural populations continue to rely on traditional media. However, pervasive uncertainties among specific demographics highlight the need for a more inclusive and localised approach. As Nepal’s media landscape evolves, it faces dual challenges: maintaining credibility and trust, while adapting to diverse and shifting consumption habits. Media stakeholders need to think about the steps they now need to take for their own survival, to ensure pluralism and healthy public debate, and ensure that the voices of the marginalised are included in the national conversation. Policymakers, media owners and journalists must strive to balance innovation with accessibility, fostering a trusted space that informs, empowers, and connects all Nepalis. This media transition is shaped by regional disparities, generational differences, and the growing dominance of digital platforms. Consumers of news An overwhelming majority (81.7%) of respondents report engaging with news in some form, underscoring a widespread appetite for staying informed. However, 18.3% do not use media for news at all either because of lack of access, or distrust. Regionally, news consumption is strongest in Bagmati (91.6%) and Sudurpaschim (90.5%), while Madhes (60.6%) lags significantly behind. This finding reflects potential challenges in access or outreach in the region. In rural areas, 79.5% of respondents consume news compared to 87.6% in cities. Urbanisation continues to drive higher engagement with media. Among social media platforms, Facebook (62.0%) and YouTube (44.4%) dominate, particularly among younger and urban audiences. In the 16-24 age group, 82.6% of respondents rely on Facebook as their primary news source, while 51.5% turn to YouTube. In contrast, their use of radio (23.6%) and tv (21.3%) is considerably lower. Among those 60 and above, 38.4% rely on radio and tv equally for news. Although Facebook is not a media platform in itself, the tendency to perceive posts on Facebook as ‘news’, or view content shared by traditional media on the site as originating from Facebook likely contributes to this perception. There is a blurring of boundaries between mainstream media and social media platforms, and the content they host. Print media is struggling to maintain relevance, with only 5.3% of respondents citing newspapers and magazines as their go-to news source. This sharp decline in print engagement suggests a broader shift toward instant, accessible digital content, leaving traditional formats struggling to adapt. Interestingly, media aggregate sites like Hamro Patro (6.2%) and emerging spaces like TikTok (1.4%) show how niche tools and apps carve out their own spaces in the news ecosystem. Higher education is a strong predictor of news consumption with 99.1% of respondents using news content in one form or other. Only 52.1% of illiterate respondents engage with news, raising issues of literacy, access, and media inclusion. Responsive media  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_2201d79424e162f11ab79f3de8675cd7da8018f71cc99ebd49bd9961d362d3cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241226141212_2201d79424e162f11ab79f3de8675cd7da8018f71cc99ebd49bd9961d362d3cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="898" height="810" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  The question of how much Nepali media cares about the public issues reveals disparities across regions, demographics, and platforms. While 38.5% of respondents believe the media cares about their needs, a significant 31.2% feels otherwise, with 20% are uncertain. Confidence in media is strongest in Bagmati and Karnali, while Sudurpaschim and Madhes highlight gaps in engagement and relatable coverage. This divide reflects earlier findings about Nepal’s media landscape, where digital platforms dominate urban and younger demographics, while traditional platforms hold sway in rural and older populations. Nepal’s journalism needs to bridge this gap in representation and trust by creating inclusive, localised content that resonates with diverse audiences. The age, urban-rural and education divide is also reflected in how media responsiveness is perceived. The survey result shows that while journalism is often seen as addressing more significant national issues, it struggles to connect with individual or localised concerns with a persistent trust gap and regional disparities. This likely stems from the media’s tendency to prioritise macro-level narratives, such as politics and societal challenges which resonate on a broader scale, while often overlooking the lived experiences of individuals or underrepresented communities. Over half of respondents (51.3%) feel that journalism cares ‘A Great Deal’, ‘Quite a Bit’, about public concerns, while 34.2% feel the media pays only ‘Slight’ or ‘No’ attention to their needs. Age and education continue to influence perceptions of media responsiveness. Younger respondents aged 16–34 are more optimistic, with over 35% stating journalism cares ‘Quite a lot’ about public concerns. However, confidence diminishes among older age groups, where 39.8% of those aged 60 and above express uncertainty. Urban respondents (35.2%) consistently report higher trust in media responsiveness compared to 33.8% in rural areas. This data aligns with earlier findings, where urban audiences, engaging more with digital platforms, feel better represented. The contrast between personal and public perceptions suggests that while Nepali journalism is recognised for addressing large-scale, national issues, it struggles to connect with localised or individual concerns. Digital platforms, which dominate urban and younger audiences, likely contribute to the more positive perceptions of media care for public concerns. In comparison, mainstream media, which is used more by older and rural audiences, may not foster the same level of trust or engagement. Nepal’s traditional press must balance coverage of national issues with more relevant local content to build lasting trust. Bridging this gap requires headline-worthy grassroots storytelling that resonates with individuals and communities while building a national narrative, fostering trust and representation in society. Madhu Acharya is the CEO/President, and Bhumiraj Chapagain, PhD, is the Research Director at Sharecast Data Initiative.

What do Nepalis think of the media?

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.