This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

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Here & Now

Things eventually work out

The COP30 climate summit in Brazil ended this week <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cop30-to-cop31">without tangible commitment</a> from countries to reduce fossil fuel emissions. Its impact will be felt halfway around the planet here in Mustang which is already seeing weather extremes.&nbsp; Geographically, Mustang is on the Tibetan Plateau, north of the main Himalayan chain. It is in the rainshadow, and a high altitude desert. Winter snow has failed for eight of the past ten years, unseasonal blizzards, and frequent glacial collapse leading to floods. The Kali Gandaki Corridor follows one of the deepest gorges in the world between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, the world’s seventh and tenth highest peaks. Lush pine forests cover the southern flanks of these mountains, but within a few kilometers the vegetation undergoes a dramatic change to a landscape of red, brown and grey cliffs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It gets more arid the more north you go. Snow and rain in Upper Mustang used to fall mostly in winter, but now there are cloudbursts and blizzards at other times of the year.&nbsp; In the ancient walled city of Lo Manthang, elderly men have gathered at a local tea shop to drink the salted butter tea. Some sip home-made liquor infused with medicinal herbs.&nbsp; The sun has set, the temperature plummets, and the wind howls outside. Everyone agrees it does not snow like it used to any more. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Comings and goings in Mustang</a>, Shrijan Pandey  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The flat mud roofs are leaking because rain is now falling where there used to be snow.</figcaption> </figure>  “The weather has changed drastically over the years,” says Lopsang Tsomfel Bista, Chair of the Lo Dekhar Municipality. “It doesn’t snow in winter, and it falls when it is not supposed to.”&nbsp; Lack of snow means that in spring, the pastures where nomadic herders graze their yaks and goats do not have enough grass. Previously, winter snow on the meadows would seep slowly into the soil with the spring thaw, bringing out fresh grass shoots. &nbsp; In recent years, even if there is winter precipitation, it falls as rain. The soil is not able to soak in rain as efficiently, and torrential downpours increase the risk of soil erosion and floods.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  “There used to be up to 1,500 mountain goats in every village, but now they have stopped keeping livestock,” says Bista. This is due to lack of grass and new lowland diseases moving up the mountains. Mustang has lost 28% of its population between the census in 2011 and 2021, and outmigration also means there are fewer people left to carry on a pastoral lifestyle.&nbsp; “Herders have asked for vet services in their communities because there are new insect-borne diseases,” says Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Winds of change sweep Mustang</a>, Jagannath Adhikari  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The mud walls of monasteries and homes are crumbling because of unseasonal rainfall. </figcaption> </figure>  Mustang is flanked to the east and west by mountains that rise up to 6,000m, and glaciers on their slopes are melting fast, turning into lakes. With the rising temperature, the risk of Glacier Lakes Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has also risen.&nbsp; At the rate global average temperatures are rising, scientists say that the Himalaya will lose up to two-thirds of the remaining ice caps. When glaciers melt, it not just raises the risk from GLOFs but also affects water supply downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1022" height="767" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map NT"> </figure>  FLOODS Ringzin Sangbo Gurung in Chumjung village recalls the devastation caused by a GLOF on 8 July this year that swept away a newly inaugurated bridge. The floodplain is now strewn with boulders and sand brought down by the flood which caused damage worth Rs28 million. The flood also damaged the irrigation canals that feed riverside farms where locals grew potato, buckwheat, millet and spinach. Nyima Wangmo Gurung runs a homestay in Nyamdok village, and says: “We don’t have water when we need it. And there is too much when we don’t need it.”&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  With warming temperatures, farmers in Mustang are growing lowland vegetables which was not possible before in plastic greenhouses. The farms depended on snowmelt in spring to irrigate their fields, but there is less snow to melt in past years. “The last heavy snowfall in winter was about eight years ago, since then we have got little or no snow,” says Tashi Norbu Gurung, Chair of Lo Manthang Rural Municipality. “This affects farmers during the April planting season.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It is not just lack of snowfall that is a problem. Springs have gone dry, and some villages like Dhey have been forced to relocate because life became &nbsp;impossible without water.&nbsp; Villagers of Samjung also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-migration-is-already-happening">migrated</a> to Namashung, near a river when water sources dried up. But now the new settlements are threatened by GLOFs. Karma Gurung, who runs a lodge in Choser, remembers the big flood of 35 years ago which swept away farms and covered them with debris. There have been more frequent, but destructive floods since then in Kagbeni, Lubra and other valleys. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  MUD WALLS Because snowfall has been replaced by rain, Mustang’s traditional mud-wall architecture is now in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">danger of collapsing</a>. The homes here are closely packed, have flat roofs stacked with juniper branches for firewood. With rain in place of snow, the roofs now leak.&nbsp; Women in Thinkar village say their walls are falling apart. Some homes have collapsed, and families forced to move out. Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation says locals need plastic sheets, cement walls and corrugated roofs to cope with the rain.&nbsp; But this would mean that Mustang’s villages would lose their traditional architecture style.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The ancient 1.5m thick mud walls around Lo Manthang built 600 years ago, the king’s palace, and monasteries are also at risk. “Changes in precipitation patterns, altering the intensity, frequency, and timing of rainfall and snowfall, have damaged traditional and cultural infrastructure, particularly mud-built private and public buildings as well as religious and heritage sites,” explains Bhawani Pandey at the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. “With the rain, and because the monuments and stupas are made from mud, they have eroded. There is leakage, and the monuments are in a dilapidated condition.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure/" target="_blank">Climate-smarter Himalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The Lo Manthang Rural Municipality along with Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, are working on a Local Adaptation Plan of Action and the Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan, which the Nepal government has made mandatory for every municipality. “We took a bottom-up approach and collected data from each village, they know best the impact of climate change and what their needs are,” says Yangchen Gurung. To address the hazards of climate change, local communities and municipalities are adapting through their own resources, without waiting for outside help to improve water conservation, control soil erosion and protect from flood.&nbsp; Says Pandey, “We are returning to conserving traditional drought-resistant crop varieties, organic pest and disease control, cultivating high-value crops and fruits, and practicing sustainable pasture management through rotational grazing. We have also developed new building codes for homes that incorporate water-resistant coating for mud roofs and walls.” &nbsp; Additional Reporting by Tashi Wangyal. &nbsp;

Too little snow, too much rain

As a young girl, Jaysara Baral remembers trying to gently catch bumblebees buzzing around flowers at springtime, curious to know what they would feel like in the palm of her hand. Decades later, clad in her beekeeper overalls and hood, she looks out towards the rows upon rows of beehives stretched across her land, ready to start another day of work. &nbsp; Baral is one of several women beekeepers in Surkhet, and she is among the local entrepreneurs leading the charge in her district and the province. She has tended the land ever since she was young, and began her career in agriculture as a mushroom farmer before she discovered beekeeping seven years ago.&nbsp; Soon after, she participated in a short training at the Karnali Province Beekeepers’ Federation, and officially began her business with five hives. Seven years later, she has 100 hives, 42 of which she added in the last year. She does most of the work herself.&nbsp; “Beekeeping is a more involved profession than other jobs,” she explains. “You need to know bee behavior intimately and be trained in handling them.” When Nepali Times spoke with her last week, Baral had just returned to Surkhet after transporting all of her hives to Bardia, where her bees will graze on the nectar-rich mustard fields this time of year. &nbsp;While her bees are away, Baral is busy packing the latest round of harvested honey to send it off to waiting customers. As her beehives increased, Baral went from selling jars of honey to her neighbours to supplying hundreds of kg at a time to customers in Pokhara, Kathmandu, and as far as Jhapa. She earns a profit of up to Rs600,000 every year despite challenges like market access.&nbsp; “The personal and professional struggles of women are universal. We are just as capable as anyone to build and sustain businesses, or achieve whatever they aspire to,” she says.&nbsp; Last year, her bees produced 2,500kg of honey. This year, with more hives, she expects that she will have a supply of up to 3,000kg. “I have all this supply, but not enough market,” she says. “Our greatest need as entrepreneurs is to be connected to the markets so that local products have nation-wide reach. Bees produce honey for up to six months a year, feeding on flowers and ripening crops, pollinating them along the way.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112011114_2444040321d3c4ce6365e812cd89c4ceda9d7485765ab3bac8194161f47674d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112011114_2444040321d3c4ce6365e812cd89c4ceda9d7485765ab3bac8194161f47674d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1512" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jaysara Baral"> </figure>  POLLINATION Baral has been keeping Apis mellifera European bees so far, and just this year has started with a single hive of Apis cerana Asiatic bees. &nbsp; The bees pollinate more than ten types of trees and crops, and contribute to healthier harvests, stronger community forests, biodiversity expansion and more resilient local food systems. But bee populations are at risk due to urbanisation-induced habitat loss, climate change, and the use of pesticides. “If there are no bees to pollinate, there are no flowers, no forest, no people, no planet,” she says.&nbsp; In October, on the International Day of Rural Women, Baral received the Women’s Creativity in Rural Life Award from the Women’s World Summit Foundation (WWSF) in Switzerland. But the biggest reward is that her hardworking bees have given the single mother the income to educate her daughter who has graduated college and is preparing for a job in the banking sector. With her business having gained solid footing, Baral has also shifted focus to sharing her beekeeping knowhow to the younger generation. Through her partnership with Kopila Valley Sewa Samaj, Baral at present teaches students at Kopila Valley School about bees and their role as pollinators for the environment and agriculture. She is also actively mentors women farmers in her community and promotes sustainable agricultural practices. “Jaysara’s hard work and creativity are an inspiration to all of us,” said SP Kalaunee of the BlinkNow Foundation, which funds Koplia Valley programs in Surkhet and supports Baral’s local entrepreneurship. “Her leadership shows the power of women to build sustainable and thriving communities.” &nbsp;

Shristi Karki

The beekeeper of Surkhet

Groundwater is like a phone battery, it needs to be regularly recharged. As springs go dry across the Himalayan foothills due to over-extraction and climate change, communities in eastern Nepal are reviving traditional knowledge to replenish aquifers. The town of Dhankuta is located along the spine of a ridge and is struggling with its water supply. Unregulated pumping is one reason, and weather extremes due to climate breakdown is the other. Since water is so important for life, necessity has become the mother of invention here. More accurately, it is the mother of re-invention — since recharging ground water is a traditional practice that has been discontinued. Communities are practicing sustainable water management again by reviving recharge ponds that had fallen into disuse as well as rainwater recycling. Some of these indigenous practices have eroded over time with outmigration and modernisation. The nearby village of Khambela is dominated by the indigenous Aathpahariya Rai community and is building on its ancestral practice of rainwater harvesting with new technology developed by the group, SmartPaani.&nbsp; Households collect rainwater during four monsoon months in tanks of up to 10,000 litres for household use and irrigating &nbsp;vegetable patches in the dry season.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_b48e18e9c85ed460210d475041dce6ba5917ab31db0a16aca2c8e0f0356c9038.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251124031112_b48e18e9c85ed460210d475041dce6ba5917ab31db0a16aca2c8e0f0356c9038" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> </figure>  “The rainwater harvesting installation here uses a rapid sand filter system that allows rainwater to move rapidly through the builtin filtration unit,” says Jyotsna Lama from Kathmandu-based SmartPaani. “The clean water is stored in tanks for future use.” The initiative is supported by the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) and local municipalities. Local households contribute Rs50 a month for maintenance. “During the rainy season there is enough water in the wells and springs,” says a local farmer Sangita Rai. “But storing monsoon rain is enough to last the whole dry season.” Dhankuta town itself has a recharge pond at Sukepokhari, which itself means ‘dry pond’. &nbsp;The 24m diameter pond can hold up to 200,000 litres and lets it seep slowly to recharge the aquifer. One in four springs in &nbsp;Dhankuta have dried up, and Sukepokhari is helping revive them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_0db2a186eec5194d37492066e6d0b939569254e8feca6c6dd757d28147267b2f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251124031112_0db2a186eec5194d37492066e6d0b939569254e8feca6c6dd757d28147267b2f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Sukepokhari</figcaption> </figure>  The mountains around Dhankuta act like a sponge, absorbing water in the dry season and letting it out through springs. But water started becoming scarce when the town’s expanding population started pumping up water. Plastic waste and other pollutants contaminated the remaining water. Sukepokhari’s caretaker is Krishna Kumar Thakuri, fondly known as ‘Pani Ba’ by locals who regard him as a passionate father figure. He regularly monitors rainfall and the water level in the pond to gauge how much of it is seeping into the ground to recharge the groundwater.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112403118_b412598c4473f2bb33900bab7e2084f584e7e88c1a92f6b9c09e940e23e4ce29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025112403118_b412598c4473f2bb33900bab7e2084f584e7e88c1a92f6b9c09e940e23e4ce29" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Caretaker of Sukepokhari Krishna Kumar Thakuri fondly known as Pani Ba.</figcaption> </figure>  “We harvest rain that falls in the surrounding slopes,” explains Thakuri. “But a lot of leaves, vegetation and sediment also flows into the pond and has to be desilted every year.” The pond provides drinking water to around 150-200 households and enables irrigation to 10 households in surrounding areas. Water from the pond further flows and supports springs down the mountains.&nbsp; Off the walking trail is Dale Pokhari, another recharge pond in the scenic village of Dhojedanda. After the pond was revived two springs sprang back into life again, supplying water to six households. “There used to be multiple springs and water sources, and biodiversity was diverse, but as people started to dig up wells and drag water sources to their homes via plastic pipes, the water sources started drying up,” explains Phurba Sherpa. But now there is more water flowing out of springs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_dd71cdc337f6275b179fdab9ded358a1dcdb53c5e286d493aa2182e3f35ce32e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251124031112_dd71cdc337f6275b179fdab9ded358a1dcdb53c5e286d493aa2182e3f35ce32e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Dalepokhari</figcaption> </figure>  WATER IS LIFE Syaule-Sipting Homestay in Dhankuta has been using water sustainably after facing shortages. It has now built a bio-sand filtration system in the water tanks, so that water is safe for use by four households One of the homestays also uses a rainwater harvesting system. While the bio-sand and rainwater harvesting are used for cooking, washing and other purposes, table top filtration systems are used for drinking. Adequate safe drinking water is also helpful to revive the area’s eco-tourism potential. Safe drinking water is important so visitors are not turned off, says Anu K Lama of ICIMOD. She adds, “Health and hygiene are important for everyone. But foreigners do not have the strong immune system that locals have. Clean and adequate supply is necessary especially if we are targetting foreign guests.”

Storing rain inside mountains

Nepalis worship the sun, and mark its seasonal passage with festivals. Adding to that spiritual reverence now is the economic relevance of solar power. Fast-flowing Himalayan rivers give Nepal a total feasible hydropower generation capacity of 48,000MW, of which only 3,600 has so far been harnessed. Yet, Nepal’s total solar power potential has been calculated to be nearly 10 times higher at 432,000MW. &nbsp; With over 300 days of sunshine a year, the country could produce 3.6 to 6.2 units of electricity per square meter based on its solar radiation levels.&nbsp; This potential, combined with decreasing installation costs of Chinese-manufactured photovoltaic cells and other means, is a viable and affordable alternative to Nepal’s over-reliance on hydropower which faces concerns about the destruction of riverine ecosystems, as well as risk from glacial lake floods caused by climate breakdown. However, restrictive domestic energy policies and geopolitical sensitivities mean Nepal is failing to diversify fast enough to tap this tremendous solar energy potential. Nepal’s hydropower generation is almost entirely from run-of-river projects that do not have large reservoirs. Many such projects in Nepal and across the Himalaya have been swept away by glacial lake outburst floods in recent years.&nbsp; Such risks and limitations to hydropower should have prompted the Nepal government to jump-start investment into solar farms, but the main reason is that the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) caps solar power at just 10% of total capacity. There is no official explanation, but it is likely due to the outdated perception that solar technology cannot supply a consistent energy stream at evening and morning peak loads.&nbsp; But today, there are plenty of ways around it, including pump storage schemes that use daytime solar power to pump water from a river to a reservoir and drain it to generate electricity at night. Battery technology is now more advanced, and affordable enough to make grid-scale batteries feasible.&nbsp; But then there is an issue of tariffs, which are much lower for solar at Rs5 per energy unit, and competitive bidding forces companies to lower it even further. But there is no bidding process for hydropower and licenses are given out on a first-come, first-served basis with a fixed rate of Rs6.5 per unit regardless of location.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516" data-rendition-name="original" width="1109" height="887" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  SUPPLY VS DEMAND Hydropower is supply-driven, while solar responds to demand, so under such a discouraging scenario, solar power accounts for only 5% of Nepal’s total energy mix. “Given the environmental risks to hydropower, investors are now demanding tariffs on hydropower to be increased. So the question to the government is, are you paying more money for hydropower or willing to buy more of the cheaper solar power,” said energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. Solar investors are lobbying the government to raise the cap on solar power to 30% and expand zoning policies so that solar plants can be built in areas with high potential, such as Dolpo and Mustang in the trans-Himalaya. These regions are sparsely populated, arid, have a cold climate and high solar radiation levels — ideal conditions for photovoltaics. Solar power’s biggest advantage is its cost-effectiveness compared to hydropower, with the operating cost of a hydropower plant up to four times higher than of a solar plant of the same generation capacity. Investors are no longer assured of a return on investment on hydropower due to climate risk which have increased insurance premiums. “Last year, when the government opened a bidding for 800MW of solar power, the private sector was ready to invest 3,000MW. Both banks and investors were convinced about the potential for solar energy, but the government and especially the bureaucracy, was not on the same wavelength,” added Gurung.&nbsp; Interim Energy Minister Kulman Ghising is said to be interested in increasing the cap on solar energy, but there is a question whether he will remain in office since he has launched his only Ujyalo Nepal party to contest elections in March. GEOGRAPHY AND GEOPOLITICS In 2018, Nepal’s only foreign private equity form Dolma Himalayan Climate Fund (DHCF) pitched a proposal to generate 150MW from a solar farm and store 20MW of it in battery systems in Mustang to meet seasonal and daily peaks. It got approval from Investment Board Nepal (IBN) and had already poured millions into the project when the Department of Mines instructed all developers in Mustang to halt their projects, citing the discovery of uranium ore. But insiders say the real reason was due to pressure from the Chinese government’s security concerns about a Western investor being involved so close to the border with Tibet.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="450" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GHAM POWER</figcaption> </figure>  The same thing happened, but in reverse, when the Chinese company Risen Energy was interested in investing $190 million on a grid-connected 125MW photovoltaic generation system in Banke and Kapilvastu districts near the Indian border. Risen’s subsidiary, Risen Energy Singapore JV, was negotiating with IBN to commit $190 million in the project which would also store 20MW of daytime generation for morning and evening peak demand. But the agreement was not signed because the Indian authorities were concerned about Chinese involvement so close to their border. India has also refused to buy electricity from any hydropower plant in Nepal that has Chinese or other foreign investment or contractors. Indian state-owned companies are currently building or planning hydropower plants in Nepal to generate nearly 3,000MW, mostly for export.&nbsp; But not every Chinese-backed project has been blocked. In 2024, China handed over two solar-powered livelihood projects to a local community in Lalitpur — a community solar bathhouse and a rooftop photovoltaic power system. Funded by the Yunnan People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, the projects aim to improve living conditions. The initiative forms part of the Chinese Embassy’s ‘Happy Community’ program (幸福社区, Xìngfú Shèqū) under the China–South Asia Poverty Reduction and Development Cooperation Center.&nbsp; Says Gurung: “Hydropower is a geopolitical mess, but it has well and truly started in solar power too. It now all comes down to how we handle it, and we need deft diplomacy to make sure our projects are not indefinitely delayed as has happened in the past.”&nbsp; LOW-HANGING FRUIT Despite domestic restrictions and geopolitics, there are still small-scale opportunities for solar energy entrepreneurs to cash in, such as net metering. Most industries in Nepal have enough rooftop space to generate 500KW to 1MW of solar energy. Combined, they would generate a substantial amount of energy to feed into the grid. Factories, supermarkets and chain stores are often bankable and trusted by financial institutions from which they could easily get credit.&nbsp; China could also take advantage of Nepal’s high solar power potential. Given that the United States has only imposed a 10% tariff on Nepal, China could set up PV manufacturing plants in Nepal.&nbsp; However, this requires government-to-government which could run into trouble, again because of geopolitics. The same applies for the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism which is a carbon tariff on carbon intensive products, such as steel, cement and some electricity, imported to the European Union.&nbsp; Chinese products have suffered under this mechanism but Chinese products made in Nepal can be competitive in the European market given lower carbon tax for Nepal. Clean energy has long been an area where Nepal hopes to attract Chinese investment — not only in hydropower, but also in solar and wind energy.&nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.&nbsp;

Sonia Awale

Nepal, here comes the sun

&nbsp;Nepal has finally become famous the world over for something else besides Mt Everest — the GenZ Movement. The 8 September protests in Kathmandu may have been triggered by what happened in Jakarta a week previously, but it inspired street uprisings all over the world. This week, Mexico’s GenZ are clashing with riot police. Last month, the president of Madagascar fled to Dubai. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-genzs-inspired-filipinos" target="_blank">Philippines</a>, Morocco, Peru, Timor Leste all have seen similar anti-government protests against corruption, nepotism and poor governance. A Himalayan republic, a Latin American federation, a Southeast Asian archipelago, or a North African kingdom may have little in common, their histories, religions, languages, and political systems are worlds apart. But <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/19/world/gen-z-revolutions-protests-louvre-heist-gaza.html" target="_blank">the common thread</a> running through these demonstrations were the simulacra and symbols spread on social media platforms.&nbsp; The young crowds marching through the streets of these countries were holding up the same icons. They painted the same images on cardboard, waved the same flags, stitched the same badges on their backpacks. They chanted &nbsp;the same references from the same corners of the internet.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1047" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption> One Piece reference meme on Instagram, 115K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  To anyone who did not grow up online, this looks random. To anyone who did, it feels like the most obvious thing in the world. A new kind of global identity has formed — one that cuts across nationalities and cultures. In Nepal older relatives mock the ‘जेन्जी’. My neighbour asked me if ‘GenZ’ was a new political party.&nbsp; Around the world, when youth-led protests appear, reporters and politicians ask the same question: ‘Who is the leader?’ The answer is the same: there is no leader.&nbsp; Some names come up more prominently, as people did during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus?fbclid=IwY2xjawNPQnZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHk5Nazeqz3K9aNddXa-dQfCbwtId0nLclQwHzIYhTfg8tzGWXZMBJ5pjm5Qx_aem_a5JoyT1FRqzCVtnnPM7zUw" target="_blank">the Nepali protests</a>: Sudan Gurung. Miraj Dhungana, Rakshya Bam and other organisers who appeared in livestreams and interviews. But look closely and the leader is hiding in plain sight. The leader is not a person. The leader is the internet meme.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="662" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Aurafarming, 233K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution" target="_blank">Memes today</a> are doing the quiet organising work that pamphlets and party cells once did. They offer identity, coordinate action, level power differences, and they do it without any central command. This is not because memes cause revolts. It is because memes are the connective tissue of a generation that grew up on the same visual language, the same jokes, the same references, and the same sense of shared digital childhood. Older generations did not share cultural symbols in the same way. Whether they read a certain comic book or watched the same cartoon depended on class, religion, caste, the country, or neighbourhood they grew up in. These divisions created stratified cultural memories.&nbsp; Today, an entire global cohort has been raised on the same visual media. The same YouTube creators. The same TikTok jokes. The same anime storylines. It is truly what McLuhan predicted the Global Village would be.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b" data-rendition-name="original" width="738" height="1012" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Masked K P Oli, 63K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  This has also created the perfect environment for <a href="https://observer.co.uk/news/international/article/revolution-20-frances-political-future-could-be-won-or-lost-by-bots-and-memes" target="_blank">memes to become political tools</a>. They are instantly recognisable, emotionally charged, and open for remixing. They allow young people to signal their values without stating them. They compress identity, anger, humour, and belonging into something that the rest of the world dismisses as unserious. The perfect example of a GenZ meme is the famous skull and crossbones in protest flags from Kathmandu to Manila to Mexico City. The Strawhat Pirates from the <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20251006-one-piece-manga-revolt-morocco-indonesia-nepal-madagascar" target="_blank">anime One Piece</a>, is a show with over 1,000 episodes and a global fanbase that spans continents. One Piece follows Luffy, a justice driven pirate who travels across a world ruled by corrupt older elites who hoard power and suppress dissent.&nbsp; It is not hard to see why that story resonates with young people who feel locked out of political systems built by generations before them. I even printed stacks of my own flyer that explained memetic warfare using Minecraft visuals and handed them out in the crowd. Each one linked to a Telegram group with the Strawhat Pirates logo called MemePack HQ.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Meme Movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d" data-rendition-name="original" width="696" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Indonesia-Nepal comparison, 17.7K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  CULTURE EXPOSURE The Strawhat logo is not the only symbol making people protest. That would be like saying video games cause real world violence. Instead, the logo works like a modern version of mythology. It packs meaning for those who understand it. It represents loyalty, rebellion, chosen family, and resistance against unfair structures. It works as a rallying flag because it is already a shared story. And unlike older myths, it is accessible regardless of religion, caste, language, or national identity. Across Nepal, the Strawhat symbol has shown up on posters, badges, and protest outfits. But it is only one piece of a larger ecosystem of youth symbols. From Nepali meme pages remixing political speeches into ironic audios, to posts that place politicians into familiar pop culture formats, to clips that exaggerate the absurdity of daily life under slow moving governance, these are not just jokes. These are narrative units. Each post is a tiny story with its own punchline and its own political edge. Each TikTok video or meme functions like a religious shlok, a short piece of narrative that carries layers of meaning depending on who consumes it. Someone who has spent years studying a religion, in this case, inside GenZ online culture will recognise the symbols instantly. Someone outside this world will only see noise. This creates a literacy divide that is not about formal education but cultural exposure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e" data-rendition-name="original" width="568" height="1124" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  Protesting youth spent countless hours scrolling, interpreting, remixing, and responding to content. They built a shared symbolic universe across borders without planning to. This is why their political movements feel leaderless. They are not following individuals. They are following stories that define what justice looks like. Stories that define who the villain is. Stories that define how to respond when power is abused. In Nepal, memes about broken roads, delayed passports, political inheritance networks, and bureaucratic absurdity circulated for months before they became slogans or chants. By the time people took to the streets, the narrative groundwork had already been completed by thousands of posts liked and shared in private. The protests did not emerge from nowhere. They emerge from years of digital storytelling. Which is why the government’s ban on 26 digital platforms on 5 September became such a rallying force. The platforms that distribute these memes are not neutral, they are actually designed to maximise engagement because engagement translates to ad revenue. Right now, there is an engineer in Silicon Valley getting paid an enormous salary to find the perfect colour shade for a singular pixel on your screen so that you linger for fractions of a second longer.&nbsp; Algorithms reward content that trigger emotion. Sometimes the emotion is delight. Sometimes it is envy. Often it is anger. When rage becomes a business model, movements built inside these systems can feel powerful but unstable. The platforms democratise attention but centralise emotion. They allow anyone to broadcast, yet they shape the emotional tone of what becomes viral.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c.png" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c" data-rendition-name="original" width="974" height="1156" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  GenZ sits inside this tension. Empowered by the ability to speak without gatekeepers. Trapped inside systems that monetise their attention and amplify their frustration. This is why these leaderless online movements feel both organic and volatile. The algorithm filters which stories rise and which fade. It becomes an unintentional political actor. Not elected. Not accountable. Yet influencing millions. When the state is no longer the primary distributor of information, and when the algorithm becomes the new filter of reality, the public is left with a new responsibility. We have to learn to read memes the way past generations learned to read pamphlets or manifestos. A 15 second video can carry more political weight than a two hour speech. A symbol on cardboard might represent a decade of digital storytelling. Older generations often dismiss these images as childish. They are actually literacy markers of a new political class, one that does not wait for leaders. A political class fluent in remixing power, raised on global stories that feel more honest than the institutions they inherited. The youth did not create these platforms. They inherited them. But through memes they found a new language, one that lets them organise without permission. One that lets them build solidarity without needing meetings or manifestos. One that allows them to resist systems that feel too old to reform. It is time to take that seriously. Nobel Rimal is a researcher of digital culture and political communication who studied and participated in the meme driven mobilisations during the Nepal protests&nbsp;

Meme movements

As people move out of Nepal’s trans-Himalayan districts, their faiths migrate with them to the cities and all over the world. The ancient animist faith of Bon Po predates the advent of Buddhism in Tibet, and its last remaining priests and devotees are found in villages like Lubra in Mustang and Samling in Dolpo. But as those villages empty out, Bon centres can now be found as far afield as Kathmandu, New York and Tokyo. The first Triten Norbutse Monastery was founded in Tibet in the 14th century by the Bon Master Shen Nyima Gyaltsen. Its monastery in Nepal is below the forested hills of Ichangu on the western outskirts of Kathmandu.&nbsp; Many are surprised to hear that there is a Bon centre in Kathmandu, and that it is located so close to Swayambhu. This Triten monastery was established by Yongzin Tenzin Namdak Rinpoche only 40 years ago to cater to adherents of the faith who lived in the capital. True to its reverence for nature, the shrine is verdant, with plants and flowers amidst a contrasting backdrop of Kathmandu’s ugly urban sprawl below. The monastery practices Bon culture and passes on teachings to students as well, who after completing 15 years of study graduate to become ‘Gese’.&nbsp; It is believed that Bon Po was brought to Nepal from Tibet by Tonpa Shenrab Miwoche. Over the centuries, Bon and Buddhism have become syncretic in Dolpo and Mustang, despite the differences in their belief systems. Followers worship nature and consider the human body, speech and mind as jewels. The human body is said to be composed of five elements: earth, water, fire, air, and the cosmos.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111148_ce5d50db6757c4f5a7259c10d2879ee5f5b7b990e987bf3734378ba464afc9d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113111148_ce5d50db6757c4f5a7259c10d2879ee5f5b7b990e987bf3734378ba464afc9d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="The Bon Po way of life NT"> </figure>  The Bon faith was much more widespread during the reigns of Nyathi Chenpo, the first king of Tibet to Namri Srongchen, the 32nd king. But it was after King Srongchen Gompo that Buddhism started making inroads on the plateau, and spread also in the Himalayan rimlands. There are also Bon followers in Humla, Jumla, Baglung, Mugu, Kaski and Chitwan, as well as in the United States and 50 other countries, indicating the movement of people within Nepal and outside.&nbsp; The Bon religion believes in reincarnation and that everything, including positive and negative thoughts are a result of past life karma. Buddhism focuses more on attaining Nirvana, a state of no suffering, where the subject is released from all his/her karmas. Bon has also inducted some Tantric practices and rituals, some of which are in parts similar, yet still different from Buddhism.&nbsp; “In Buddhist culture, circumambulation of shrines is clockwise, but in Bon culture, circumambulation is in an anticlockwise direction,” explains Chhiring Lama of Triten Norbutse Monastery. “The main Bon mantra is Om Ma Tri Mu Ye Sa Le Du, while followers of Buddhism chant Om Mani Padme Hum. Buddhism emphasises enlightenment by meditation and moral behaviour, while Bon beliefs centre on nature and ancestor worship, and placating the spirits. In religious texts, it is mentioned that there were 1,008 Buddhas throughout time. Tonpa Shenrab is believed to be the 8th Buddha, and Bon practitioners are guided by his teachings contained in 140 sacred writings known as Kangyur and 300 more scriptures known as Katen.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111152_9813ce72805941af4b3bfb3c80c7e45ffc8aca4f2612eb967e84204f3a28bc07.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113111152_9813ce72805941af4b3bfb3c80c7e45ffc8aca4f2612eb967e84204f3a28bc07" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Bon Po way of life NT"> </figure>  “We worship nature and its elements and the prayer flags contain religious texts and when the wind blows through it we consider it a prayer,” says Chhiring Lama. “We also worship ponds for the water and consider fire as a sacred element as well. We also consider snakes sacred, therefore worship ponds, considering them as the place of residence.” The interdependence between human beings and nature is clearly depicted through such traditions and practices which carry relevance today as the planet faces the crisis of climate breakdown.&nbsp; Important gods worshiped include Satrig Ersang, Shenlha Okar, Sangpo Bumtri, and Tonpa Shenrab Miwoche. But what is similar to Buddhism is an offering known as ‘torma’, a cone shaped ritual offering made from flour dough. Many Bon faithful are vegetarian, or abstain from meat during festivals.&nbsp; Over time, the rise of Buddhism in Tibet and beyond overshadowed Bon, pushing many of its practices to the margins. Yet, the tradition continues to live on, carried by those who see in it a deep connection to nature, the spirit world, and the roots of Tibetan culture.&nbsp; In many ways, the endurance of Bon is a reminder that even the quietest faiths hold timeless truths, waiting to be remembered and valued. Followers of Bon today are far fewer, and the knowledge about its traditions is not as widespread.&nbsp; “As time goes on, people adopt rituals and cultures that are more convenient to their daily lives,” says Chhiring Lama. “But that means forgetting or leaving behind one’s indigenous and ancestral roots.”

The Bon Po way of life

Nepal’s September protests and regime change created two major unexpected costs that Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s interim government is scrambling to deal with: reconstruction of destroyed government buildings, and holding elections on 5 March.
The buck stops at the desk of economist and former bureaucrat Minister of Finance Rameshore Khanal about where and how to spend limited resources.
“Rameshore-ji is a fresh face and the right person for the role. He is capable and interested, and he knows the system,” says Kalpana Khanal of the Policy Research Institute (PRI).
But Minister Khanal has to grapple not just with the immediate budgeting needs for elections and reconstruction, but also initiate longer term measures to restore investor confidence badly dented by arson and vandalism of 9 September, and mend the economy.
Immediately after taking office, he had set up a three-member task force to cut programs and free up budget to meet immediate expenses.
“We have to hold elections and we have to reconstruct. Both need money, and they are equal priorities for us,” said Ministry of Finance spokesperson Tanka Prasad Pandey. “It is important to find these funds internally, and not look to aid from abroad.”
But Minister Khanal flew into heavy flak last week for his decision to restore investor confidence by giving a strategic capital gains tax break to Nepal’s only foreign private equity fund.
The Mauritius-based Dolma Impact Fund has invested venture capital into Nepal’s hydropower, construction and biotech sectors as well as solar farms and hospitals. It said in a statement that its capital gains are only taxable in Mauritius as per its double-taxation avoidance agreement with Nepal, which predates and overrides the Income Tax Act of 2002 subsequent to the Treaty Act 1990.
“When you have investors from all over the world, you have to choose a domicile and Mauritius is probably the most popular for development finance institutions due to strong governance, AML, and treaties with developing countries like Nepal,” Tim Dolma Investment told Nepali Times on the phone from London.
He added: “Last June we applied for the government to uphold its treaty with Mauritius which under all country laws including Nepal treaty act supersedes any disagreement with domestic laws. But there were delays. It was when the new government decided to uphold the treaty that the whole hoo-hah started.”
Leaks to the media possibly by bureaucrats fearful of being hauled over the coals by the CIAA has set financial circles abuzz for the past week. The Internal Revenue Office refused to grant the exemption, citing the 2002 Act.
Prime Minister Sushila Karki asked Chief Secretary Eaknarayan Aryal for clarification, and learnt that the Cabinet’s decision was not official since it was not recorded in the minutes.
“We were raising a fund that could have brought $1 billion in for energy and we had to stop it due to the reputational damage to Nepal by not upholding an international treaty,” said Gocher.
Gocher added: “Under Nepal’s Treaty Act, if there is ever disagreement between an international treaty and domestic law, then international treaty takes precedence so it is crystal clear and the way international treaties are dealt with all over the world.”
Some experts worry that gifting the fund such perks can set a dangerous precedent and a loss in tax revenue. Professor and economist Pushkar Bajracharya says: “The most important thing is to have a consistent policy about tax cuts and not do it piece-by-piece. Besides, the evidence just isn’t strong that tax cuts lead to higher investment, or more jobs.”
Others hark back to the capital gains dispute of the sale of Ncell ownership, which went to the Supreme Court and all the way to the international tribunal in The Hague.
Khanal has said privately that he is responding to the damage to Nepal’s investment climate from the dramatic visuals beamed worldwide of an international hotel chain and government buildings set ablaze in September. Western embassies are also said to be lobbying to allow Dolma tax exemption and smooth profit repatriation.
There are tradeoffs. Private equity funds like Dolma could funnel foreign funds more efficiently towards successful Nepali companies than the government, which is slowed down by many layers of bureaucracy. The downstream multiplier effect of such investments would outweigh taxes to the government since much of it is misused and wasted.
For example, the government is not taxing income in FY 25/26 generated by the US-funded $697 million Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) projects to build transmission lines and upgrade highways.
Strategic tax exemptions do provide incentives to investors, to make sure these projects are carried out effectively, which in turn helps Nepal’s development which has been affected by corruption and mismanagement.
The main demand of the GenZ protests that led to the downfall of the government coalition two months ago was to control corruption and make government more efficient so there is investment and job creation. The interim government seems to be responding to that sentiment.
The Dolma issue has distracted from the larger and longer-term need to reform the country’s financial systems and streamline public expenditure. How to reduce corruption and spur development is going to be the main agenda for elections, and the criteria by which voters will select candidates and parties.
TASKED FORCE
Shortly after Rameshore Khanal was appointed he set up a three member task force made up of the heads of Budget and Program, Foreign Aid, and Revenue Management Divisions. The team sent through the budget culling items DOGE-style — projects deemed ‘inadequately prepared,’ ‘fragmented,’ or ‘included through political pressure.’
Khanal hoped to save up to Rs100 billion by cutting all projects less than Rs30 million. However, such a slash and burn method would hurt rural and remote area projects for health and education more, and much bigger corruption-ridden infrastructure projects would be unscathed.&nbsp;
Says Bajracharya, “There are thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of low-return programs in the budget that are there because of political or personal influence. But the criteria for cutting them needs to be properly defined. Doing it arbitrarily is unacceptable.”&nbsp;
Kalpana Khanal of the Policy Research Institute was involved in the taskforce, and explains: “The decision to mobilise internal funds is a pragmatic move to fund elections and reconstruction.”
However, she also singles out the massively-funded Ministry of Physical Infrastructure and Transport as being particularly problematic: “Time and cost overruns are historically the norm, and many are ‘vote bank’ projects that are politically motivated rather than done for return on investment.”
For example, politicians use their influence to build roads to their home districts to secure popularity even if the funds would have been better spent elsewhere.
“Another problem is the amount of funds that are transferred randomly for things that outside the budget,” continues Khanal.
Bajracharya adds, “While reconstruction and elections are big financial commitments, Nepal could easily find the funds. Cancelling low impact programs is a good move by the ministry of finance, and another option could have been to raise customs or taxes by a few percent. The main problem is that a huge amount of funds are lost to corruption.”
Kalpana Khanal and Dilli Raj Khanal co-authored a technical report last year titled Improving Public Expenditure System in Nepal: Critical Areas of Reform which did a forensic examination of such wasteful projects.
The conclusion: recommendation to have stricter accountability measures in place to check the actual use of funds and merit-based appointments in the National Planning Commission, Ministry of Finance, and the CIAA.
The technocrats in Prime Minister Karki’s cabinet resonate with the latter point. Nepal is so entrenched in the ‘afno manche’ culture of nepotism and connections that it has become the norm.
The report also refers to the well-known off-budget ‘re-allocations’ of big outlays during the seventh and first months of the fiscal year that undermine in-built check and balance. Almost a quarter of the budget is spent in the last month, which results in low quality and low impact work.
The authors call for reward and punishment systems to prevent these practices. The CIAA could also be supercharged to build transparency into the digital Line Ministry Budget Information System, instead of being an agency for political vendetta.

Vishad Raj Onta

Nepal needs to use its money better

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

Global warning bell in Belém

The 14th instalment of the European Union Film Festival brings to Nepali audiences European storytellers, emerging Nepali filmmakers and their work in celebration of the shared language of cinema. Films will be screened 14-16 November in Kathmandu, followed by Pokhara from 21-23 November. This year’s EUFF features 25 films, including 10 European features, six BAFTA-nominated shorts, and nine Nepali short films that explore universal themes of identity and belonging. “We didn’t set out with a defined ‘theme’, but as the films started coming together, a pattern emerged, stories of belonging, migration, resistance, and quiet transformations,” says Prasuna Dongol, program director and curator of the festival. “It’s interesting to see those reflections across continents, showing that even though we’re worlds apart, we’re asking the same questions,” Dongol adds. The festival is organised by the EU Delegation to Nepal, in collaboration with embassies and cultural institutions representing EU members in Kathmandu and Delhi, as well as the British Council and UNESCO. The EU selection will showcase films from Portugal, Austria, Finland, the Netherlands, Ireland, the UK, Lithuania, France, Italy, Romania, Hungary, Poland, and Switzerland. The films by young Nepalis, rooted in everyday small towns, friendship, or growing up in a country in transition, mirror the motifs of the selected films that tell stories of life across Europe. Dongol adds: “Our goal was to showcase how young Nepali filmmakers are engaging with ideas of identity, place, and change in ways that feel both personal and globally resonant.” In the lead-up to the festival, conversations were held about Nepal’s evolving film industry, and how storytellers navigate filmmaking as both art and business. Organisers plan to introduce interactive side events including networking spaces and informal markets. A four day workshop brought together 10 emerging Nepali filmmakers to explore how to take their films from idea to market. Participants discussed why film festivals matter, how funding works, and how to build sustainable collaborations without compromising on creativity. Meanwhile, at the British Council and UNESCO’s ‘What Next for the Film Industry?’ roundtable on 12 November, filmmakers, policymakers, and researchers discussed the findings of the recent UNESCO Baseline Assessment of the Cultural and Creative Industries (CCI) of the Valley. “Film festivals like this are not just about watching films; they’re about expanding perspective and networking,” says Dongol. “If someone discovers a new filmmaker they love or feels inspired to tell their own story differently, that’s a success for us.” <h2>WATCHLIST</h2> <h2>Happy</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_bea2f7f1aa998adb05b38d6912fc968204ed592d9bb375edbe163ef0223f1d30.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025111312118_bea2f7f1aa998adb05b38d6912fc968204ed592d9bb375edbe163ef0223f1d30" data-rendition-name="original" width="1222" height="605" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  An undocumented Indian immigrant in Austria strives for a happy life for his daughter amidst the threat of deportation, revealing the shared quest for happiness in those who seem to have it all. 110 mins | Austria Director: Sandeep Kumar <h2>Jeʹvida</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_d19893069ba768408600bf14072c6858f963827be0feb3b2bcfdd60b2528bbf1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025111312118_d19893069ba768408600bf14072c6858f963827be0feb3b2bcfdd60b2528bbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1078" height="613" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  Sanna and her aunt Iida, who have never met before, drive to Lapland to empty a house they’ve both inherited. The house invokes painful memories in Iida, and Sanna learns of her withdrawn and distrusting aunt’s ordeal during the forced assimilation into Finnish society. 104 mins | Finland Katja Gauriloff <h2>Three Kilometres to the End of the World</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_2a737dd7092e827965065f54eb6e96db873c5c77597f65392f7c9d616ba6a585.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025111312118_2a737dd7092e827965065f54eb6e96db873c5c77597f65392f7c9d616ba6a585" data-rendition-name="original" width="1078" height="617" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  Adi is spending the summer in his home village in the Danube Delta when he is brutally attacked one night. In the aftermath, his parents no longer look at him as they did, and the seeming tranquility of the village starts to crack. 104 mins | Romania Director: Emanuel Parvu <h2>The Last Expedition</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_c9b46e481a46734bc332d30da21465e1d50807f39b54ebe1525a7f3889df855d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025111312118_c9b46e481a46734bc332d30da21465e1d50807f39b54ebe1525a7f3889df855d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  Wanda Rutkiewicz, the most famous Polish mountaineer, went missing on 13 May 1992 on her way to Kangchenjunga. As past events are confronted with theories of Wanda’s disappearance, questions emerge– is it possible that she is still alive? 86 mins | Poland, Switzerland Director: Eliza Kubarska <h2>Wander to Wonder</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_bd6a0b3494565fed5f86707572064d8b6dd70532f7e352d9b871f3824db3f083.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025111312118_bd6a0b3494565fed5f86707572064d8b6dd70532f7e352d9b871f3824db3f083" data-rendition-name="original" width="3840" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  Three miniature actors who starred in a children’s tv show are left alone in the studio after the show’s creator dies, leading them to continue making increasingly strange episodes for their fans. 14 mins | France, Belgium, United Kingdom and the Netherlands Director: Nina Gantz <h2>Stomach Bug</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_980ed53441602df9c8df913e1f5de9abbf9b537953f8b77df074ed4bb0b52109.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025111312118_980ed53441602df9c8df913e1f5de9abbf9b537953f8b77df074ed4bb0b52109" data-rendition-name="original" width="3240" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  The life of a fifty-something Chinese father, whose daughter moves out and who feels invisible in British society, unravels as his loneliness manifests physically. 15 mins | United Kingdom Director: Matty Crawford <h2>The Kathmandu</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_85299c1df8dbff3264720f8b2c01cc0633732f32fd1885c30230111ab23ef2ce.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2025111312118_85299c1df8dbff3264720f8b2c01cc0633732f32fd1885c30230111ab23ef2ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  A young musician’s dream city turns into a nightmare when his reflection comes to life, and begins living his life. 6 min | Nepal Director: Nying Hyolmo <h2>What grows in Thari Maila’s Vegetable Garden?</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_3a46e16703144323a733a2beeadde1322e99abcabb53522fb980e54eac7e50dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025111312118_3a46e16703144323a733a2beeadde1322e99abcabb53522fb980e54eac7e50dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="3840" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  Thari Maila and wife live off of their thriving vegetable garden, but the lush garden hides secrets beneath its surface, as innocence gives way to quiet unease. 14 min | Nepal Director: Patrika Ghimire <h2>Abyss</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_eb40d3fcd85bcd01552481dc1d478d133cf758a45598bce0f268ecedcbb1b177.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025111312118_eb40d3fcd85bcd01552481dc1d478d133cf758a45598bce0f268ecedcbb1b177" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  Richa and Dhiraj, a couple who have just had a newborn, confront the depths of love and pain as Richa struggles with postpartum depression. 13 mins | Nepal Director: Akriti Dhungana <h2>Eternal Kinship</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_638750880715567980ce7654d3b103e202cec2ce6740051927278666d5f4b2f4.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025111312118_638750880715567980ce7654d3b103e202cec2ce6740051927278666d5f4b2f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="826" height="612" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  A boy’s fear of crossing a river becomes a journey toward courage and self-discovery. 11 mins | Nepal Director: Arvin Rai <h2>SCHEDULE</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_dad4593c61a147fed1a19e2c1724f3d4edc4dc7267e476b770723d4f40738b05.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025111312118_dad4593c61a147fed1a19e2c1724f3d4edc4dc7267e476b770723d4f40738b05" data-rendition-name="original" width="1199" height="851" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312118_e29696f8a489f5fedf3d044ae23fd2eb4c0f30acd5094754a67a666d06de07d3.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2025111312118_e29696f8a489f5fedf3d044ae23fd2eb4c0f30acd5094754a67a666d06de07d3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="852" loading="lazy" alt="EUFF 2025 NT"></figure>  The 14th European Union Film Festival Nepal 14 – 16 November, QFX Chhaya Center, Kathmandu 21 – 23 November, QFX Trade Mall, Pokhara All screenings free

Cinema’s shared language

There were two Bhutans on display during Narendra Modi’s visit this month. The first: a trusted partner, modernising rapidly with Indian support, inaugurating hydroelectric projects, and signing healthcare deals. The second: a nation that <a href="https://www.fmreview.org/gazmere-bishwo/#:~:text=In%201990%2D91%2C%20about%20a,are%20therefore%20not%20Bhutanese%20citizens.">ethnically cleansed 17% of its population </a>and has never been held accountable.
Modi chose to see only the <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-concludes-bhutan-visit-with-prayers-for-peace-and-prosperity">first </a>during his <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-announces-rs-4000-cr-concessional-credit-line-to-fund-energy-projects-in-bhutan/articleshow/125253915.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&amp;utm_medium=text&amp;utm_campaign=cppst">11-12 November visit</a>, granting $450 million in credit, offering birthday tributes to Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuk, and inaugurating another hydropower project.
New Delhi has opted for strategic silence on Bhutan’s systematic persecution of the Lhotshampas in the 1990s. The displaced remain scattered across the world and in refugee camps in Nepal, their property seized, their citizenship revoked.&nbsp;
Now, on that same contested land Bhutan is building the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Gelephu Mindful City (GMC)</a>, a megaproject intended to <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-announces-inr-40-billion-credit-line-new-rail-links-and-land-for-bhutanese-temple-in-varanasi">connect directly to Indian infrastructure</a>. The victims are gone, and democratic India’s values remain conspicuously absent.&nbsp;
With no Lhotshampas left to challenge the official narrative and India unwilling to raise it, Bhutan continues to suppress dissent with impunity.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, social media influencer Raghu Pati Subedi was arrested on the Assam side of Gelephu after returning from a visit to relatives in India. His family members reportedly came under intense pressure, including threats of arrest, accusing them of hiding his whereabouts. After his arrest, he was transported to Thimphu and imprisoned.
This was not an isolated incident. It is part of systemic repression that first gained international attention in the 1990s, when over 100,000 Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa were systematically stripped of their citizenship and forcibly exiled. This mass expulsion, which human rights organisations have characterised as ethnic cleansing, created a decades-long refugee crisis that continues to define the regional political and human rights landscape.&nbsp;
EXODUS
The Lhotshampa crisis of the 1990s was not a spontaneous event but the culmination of years of state-led discrimination. Through a series of legislative acts, notably the 1985 Citizenship Act and the 1989 Driglam Namzha, the ‘One Nation, One People’ policy, the Bhutanese state systematically dismantled the rights of its Nepali-speaking citizens.&nbsp;
The use of the Nepali language was suppressed, the traditional dress of the ruling ethnic group was mandated, and citizenship was revoked en masse, rendering a significant portion of the population stateless in their own homeland.
The new manuscript I am editing has harrowing accounts by the authors of those atrocities. The parallels with what happened to Subedi recently are striking and troubling, showing that even after 35 years the regime has not changed its spots. The methods may have evolved, but the repression against dissidents remains disturbingly consistent.
This refugee exodus was an immense and unasked-for burden on Nepal. Despite being a country grappling with its own political instability and limited resources, Nepal accommodated them on humanitarian grounds. Nepal has consistently advocated for a durable solution centered on the refugees’ right to safe, voluntary, and dignified repatriation.
For years, it engaged in bilateral talks with Bhutan, culminating in a joint verification process. However, these efforts ultimately foundered on what Nepal described as ‘continued rigidity and non-implementation of the agreed decisions by the Bhutanese side’.
Nepal fulfilled its moral and humanitarian duty, but the international community largely failed to hold Bhutan accountable. Bhutan’s rulers deflected global attention with the masterful narrative of Gross National Happiness (GNH), while the grim reality in the refugee camps persisted.&nbsp;
Ultimately, with repatriation proving impossible, Nepal acquiesced to a third-country resettlement program led by a group of eight countries, including the United States, Canada, and Australia. From 2007 to 2016, more than 113,500 Bhutanese refugees were resettled in <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/media/nepal-factsheet">one of the largest group resettlement programmes globally</a>, though 6,365 remain in refugee camps in eastern Nepal.
While this solution provided a lifeline for thousands, it was a tragic capitulation to Bhutan’s ethnic homogenisation project. The refugees’ right to return to their homeland has been denied. It is a cautionary tale about the limits of international diplomacy in the face of state intransigence.
Bhutan’s global brand is one of its most successful exports. The <a href="https://www.gnhcentrebhutan.org/">Gross National Happiness </a>doctrine, which promotes holistic well-being over just economic growth, has captivated the Western imagination and policymakers. It offers a vision of a mindful, environmentally conscious, and peaceful Himalayan kingdom. This carefully cultivated image has historically aimed to shield Bhutan from the level of scrutiny applied to other nations with similar human rights records.
The GNH facade, however, cracks under the weight of documented evidence. The same kingdom that champions ‘happiness’ has, for decades, maintained a justice system that human rights groups allege relies on torture, coerced confessions, and draconian laws to silence opposition.
The 1992 National Security Act, with its vague definitions of ‘treasonable acts’ against the Tsa-Wa-Sum (King, Country, and People), has been a primary tool for suppressing political dissent, particularly from the Lhotshampa.
Overlooked by the international community and ignored by global powers including India, in responding robustly to the ethnic cleansing of the 1990s sent a clear message to Thimphu: such actions could be undertaken with impunity. The monarchy emerged unscathed, its reputation burnished rather than tarnished.&nbsp;
This historical impunity now echoes in the case of Raghu Pati Subedi and the <a href="https://www.cijnepal.org/new-list-of-political-prisoners-expected-to-set-off-discussion-on-bhutans-human-rights-record">continued imprisonment of dozens of political prisoners</a> of conscience. The global community’s reluctance to challenge the GNH narrative has, in effect, become a form of complicity.
The arrest and sentencing of a social media influencer demonstrates how old tactics have been adapted for the digital age. Subedi, 40, was a new kind of threat to the state-controlled narrative and he had to be made an example of.&nbsp;
As the founder and administrator of the popular Facebook page ‘The Don of Asia’, he bypassed traditional, state-influenced media to speak directly to about 78,000 followers. His content, informational and satirical videos on rural poverty, corruption, and the GMC project, was the kind of social media activism that was deemed intolerable.
Subedi was arrested in early 2025 and sentenced to 24 years in prison. The charges allegedly stemmed from Subedi’s social media criticism of the GMC, a flagship project of Nepal-born Bhutanese fifth King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.&nbsp;
For <a href="https://thenewamericansmag.com/2024/11/18/the-kings-gelephu-mindfulness-city/#:~:text=Ganga%20Lamitare%2C%20who%20owns%20four,ancestors%20in%20building%20the%20nation.">Bhutanese refugees like Gangaram Lamitare</a>, the GMC represents a bitter irony, a development rising on their confiscated ancestral lands.&nbsp;
Gangaram, who owns four acres where the GMC’s international airport is now under construction, says: “Many people from villages fled at night in 1990, leaving everything behind to escape oppression. Now, the Bhutanese king and ministers are spreading falsehoods worldwide, calling this land vacant, which actually belongs to those forced to leave the country.”&nbsp;
There are signs that international support that has benefited Bhutan may be waning. The United Nations has become increasingly vocal and last year the <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/documents/issues/detention-wg/opinions/session101/a-hrc-wgad-60-2024-bhutan-advance-edited-ve.pdf">UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the detention of several Bhutanese political prisoners was arbitrary and illegal under international law.&nbsp;
In April 2025 from a group of six UN human rights experts raised grave concerns about the use of torture, denial of fair trials, and the ‘severe chilling effect’ of Bhutan’s legal framework on civic space. These developments owe much to the consistent advocacy of the Hague-based Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) since its formation.
However, they also reflect broader shifts in international human rights scrutiny. This places Bhutan’s key international partners, particularly the European Union, in a critical position. Bhutan enjoys lucrative benefits under the EU’s ‘Everything but Arms’ trade scheme, which grants developing countries tariff-free access to the EU market contingent on respect for human rights.&nbsp;
The EU is also a significant provider of development aid to Bhutan which provides it with substantial leverage. In April 2025, members of the <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/saskiabricmont.bsky.social/post/3lmrn5mkmrs2q">European Parliament formally called on Bhutan</a> to release all political prisoners. This action signals a growing recognition that trade and partnership cannot be divorced from human rights obligations.&nbsp;
“Bhutan’s international partners and investors, including the EU, should make it clear that they expect Bhutan to comply with its human rights obligations and release them without further delay,” says Meenakshi Ganguly, of Human Rights Watch.&nbsp;
Bhutan stands at a crossroads. Its desire for deeper global economic integration is colliding with its unresolved history of human rights abuses. The international community now has a choice: either continue being charmed by the myth of a happy shangri-la or insist that the kingdom adheres to democratic values it professes to the world.&nbsp;
Nepal’s recent Gen-Z uprising offers a lesson to Bhutan. In September, when authorities attempted to ban 26 social media, Nepali youth took to the streets and, within hours, toppled the entire pro-establishment political apparatus. Their message was clear: in an age of digital connectivity and mass mobilisation, authoritarian tactics such as detaining social media influencers are both unjust and ultimately unsustainable.
This incident echoes the prophetic warnings of Devi Bhakta Lamitare, Bhutan’s first-generation democratic leader, who died in exile in India in 2022. In his seminal 1970 book
Dankindo Bhutan, Lamitare chronicled the systematic suppression of people’s rights and envisioned a path toward liberation.
Before his death, I worked with him to update and edit this work, which the Bhutan Media Society published posthumously in 2023. In a December 2020 interview I conducted for the book on the Ganga riverbank in Haridwar, Lamitare laid out a stark three-front offensive: political mobilisation from within India to awaken resistance inside Bhutan itself, relentless pressure on New Delhi to champion democracy, and a global ‘pamphlet war’ waged by resettled Bhutanese in the West.&nbsp;
Only through such sustained action, he argues, can Bhutanese citizens win the right to choose their own rulers, a principle India, the world’s largest democracy, should be championing, not abandoning.
Binod Dhungel is the Nepal correspondent for Reporters Without Borders.
<a href="http://linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod" target="_blank">linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod</a>, @BinodDhungel

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

We often see ourselves reflected in the other. For someone who grew up in Kathmandu Valley in the eighties and nineties, this maxim comes alive with an even greater force. Nepal’s media ecosystem was dismal, the school curriculum was narrow and did not provide opportunities for creative expression. Perhaps that is why I became obsessed with MTV videos and Bollywood films. I saw my developing self reflected in these story-lines and razzmatazz. When the media and education system do not engage the public and reflect myriad interests, aspirations and lifestyles of the population, citizens get detached and disconnected from their roots. I left for America for further studies, and was somewhat determined to never return to Nepal. It was a country full of potholes and black-outs. But foreigners have been fascinated with our country for decades. In the early 19th century, Francis Buchanan-Hamilton led a pioneering expedition and documented more than a thousand species of plants native to the region. Almost a century later, in 1905, Frenchman Sylvan Levi published ‘the first attempt to produce a comprehensive study of Nepal’, drawing on not just indigenous but available Chinese and European sources as well. After Nepal opened up in the 1950s, different kinds of foreigners have traveled here -- most notably, cold-war era spies disguised as diplomats, and later came the hippies. I returned to Nepal in 2013 and was primarily struck by two major demographics - the artists and the expats. Energised by the recent revolution, the creatives were making vibrant, powerful works. The expats, on the other hand, demonstrated a different way to navigate life in Kathmandu Valley. These two groups of people re-introduced Nepal to me and I began seeing my country and my hometown with a renewed perspective. Which is why one particular image from Giovanna Caruso’s ongoing show at the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank">Kalā</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank"> Salon</a> curated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/facades-and-flowers-from-nepal-to-italy" target="_blank">Sophia L Pandé</a> instantly caught my attention -- rather, it called out to me, as if it was composed for me, framing a key moment from my own life. Its title is, coincidentally, 2013. Like most of her other works, the pen-and-ink drawing is punctuated by an explosion of watercolour: a woman standing confidently in front of a Newa-style house, a leg arched up, as if she is fixing a strap around an ankle before stepping out on an adventure. The watercolour depicts a rainbow streaming out of a pot through a second-floor window. The rest of the details are rendered in realism – clusters of garlic and onion hanging to dry from the rafters, and further down a stack of corn. There are towels drying, even an old water pump.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="art review Kala Salon"> </figure>  When I walked over to this artwork with Caruso, she chuckled, “Ah, this work is a celebration of my 30 years in Nepal.” It was while trying to calm a restless group of students during her teaching days in Italy that Caruso first came across an iconic image of Kathmandu Darbar Square. She had found an old box of slides and while projecting images from the Himalaya to engage her students, the artist was determined to travel to Nepal. The first flat she rented was close to the square and the view from her rooftop was the same as the one she had encountered inside her classroom. She has been traveling to Nepal every year since. Some of her favourite drawings depict Khokana in morning fog. From 1993-2006, she drew murals at Ram Mandir and Pashupatinath, asking sadhus to guide her and correct her depictions. Caruso received a classical education, which means she was trained to focus on perspective and geometry while capturing mainly portraits and still lives. She is influenced by M C Escher and his explorations of mathematics and symmetry. No wonder she finds the Darbar Square architecture so compelling. She also names as inspiration Gustave Dore, whose style is different from Escher’s and I can see how she has fused these influences in her body of work: Escher’s austerity complimented and slightly dislodged by Dore’s comics and caricatures. “Before starting, the painting needs to be complete in my mind,” she explains as we pass a series of portraits titled Saraswati, Lakshmi, Kali Dancing, and Durga dominated by a roaring tiger. “These are all real people, I ask my friends and family members to sit for me.” The Kali in the drawing has the artist’s fiery copper red hair and she is dancing, surrounded by various men with flowing hair. The artist seems to have experimented here, drawing the revelers from above, and indulging in playful abandon. Depictions of Nepal are often in danger of being exoticised. But Caruso is familiar with her subjects, knows our alleys and temples intimately. Her colours and compositions are passionate and dense. In an essay, Anirudh S Chari writes the artist’s work is splashed with rapturous energy and most drawings have a carnivalesque element. ‘Kali Dancing’ illustrates this idea perfectly in that she has turned Kali’s usual fearsome portrayal on its head by depicting and embracing another feminine principle - the capacity to celebrate and create joy. Apart from drawing inspiration from Hindu goddesses and Nepal’s multi-colored rituals, Caruso has also drawn the Sumerian Ianna and Lillith and the Egyptian Nut. She enjoys drawing Nataraja, and says it is because “Shiva is a good husband”. We stand another painting titled 100 Days a Lion. “There is a saying in Italian, Better one day as a lion than a hundred days as a sheep, but I thought why not 100 Days a Lion?” This sentiment captures this nomadic artist’s spirit spanning four decades, in which she has captured urban energy as well as the sacred imagery of ‘life diaries on canvas’. From Venezia to Kathmandu and Journeys In Between Giovanna Caruso The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre Mall, Thamel Till 12 December 10am- 8pm

Looking at Nepal from Venice

The September protests and worry about what is in store for Nepal in 2026 have added more uncertainty to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-needs-to-use-its-money-better">struggling economy</a>. Real estate transactions are stagnant, industries are operating below capacity because of declining domestic demand, the construction sector is slack, and investors are in wait-and-watch mode. In contrast, total bank deposits increased by Rs124 billion in the month before mid-October to Rs7.4 trillion. Official remittance inflows hit a record $13 billion in the past year. Nepal’s banks are flush with cash, with nowhere to put it. &nbsp; “The economy has flatlined. Non-performing assets are up, and real estate is at a standstill,” said Ashoke SJB Rana, CEO of Himalayan Bank.“There is excess liquidity in the market, with not many places to invest.” The main reason seems to be that both <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/relocate-reallocate-recover">domestic and foreign investors were spooked</a> by the targeted violence of 9 September, and are so worried about the runup to elections in March that they are holding on to their wallets. Not just businesses, the political uncertainty is keeping individuals &nbsp;from making big financial decisions.&nbsp; Sujeev Shakya, author of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/retrofitting-nepal-for-future-shocks">newly-released book Nepal 2043</a>, notes that the current doldrum is due to Nepalis playing it safe with their money. &nbsp; “People are holding on to their assets, and keeping their cash,” he says. “They are not investing in real estate, and avoiding buying gold because it is so volatile.”&nbsp; One sector in which banks have a lot of exposure is hydroelectricity, but even here recent floods have shown that this investment is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/global-warning-bell-in-belem">increasingly at risk from climate breakdown</a>.&nbsp; Nabil Bank, with its focus on sustainable banking, for instance, has financed 56 hydropower projects with an installed capacity of 3,000MW.&nbsp; Says Nabil CEO Manoj Kumar Gyawali: “We cannot ignore unpredictable rainfall, increased glacier melt, more frequent glacier lake outburst floods, and landslides. These risks mean that while hydropower is essential, Nepal must diversify its energy mix." &nbsp;&nbsp; An open secret in the banking sector is that much of the liquidity is supected laundered money. Banks also have close ownership links with big businesses, and this means that even with a slow economy, banks lend to themselves or to each other to keep transaction volumes up.&nbsp; This is one reason for a high default rate. In the first three months of this fiscal year, 4.86% of bank loans were non-performing, meaning one out of about every 20 borrowers had defaulted. A year ago, this figure was 4.04%. Banks are therefore reluctant to lend, dampening the overall investment climate. &nbsp; Ironically, the high default rate is keeping mainstream newspapers in Nepal afloat at a time when the media business is also in crisis. Even as they suffer from a massive drop in advertising revenue, most daily newspapers often add pages to fit notices to borrowers about repayment, or announcements of bank auctions of collateral property. “While banks may be making a much smaller percentage of income compared to a few decades ago, they are still making a profit,” notes Shakya. “And so they are actually quite happy to be in this low-risk situation. Banks are conservative organisations after all.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251128041136_b33dd18d7ce221e273bd18d8a5c4ba4c9196f762b95b87fd24c60df6c2426065.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251128041136_b33dd18d7ce221e273bd18d8a5c4ba4c9196f762b95b87fd24c60df6c2426065" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1022" loading="lazy" alt="Banks"> <figcaption>Illustration: BHANU BHATTARAI / NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Among the most striking videos of the September protests that was shared globally by tens of millions of people was the Hilton and Hyatt hotels and the Ncell building burning. That recognisable international brands were targeted did not just cause huge losses to owners, but also damaged Nepal’s overall investment climate. Looting Bhat-Bhateni and homes of businessmen also sent a negative message, spurring capital flight.&nbsp; “That was very bad optics for potential investors, you simply worry about the security of your investment when you see things like that,” says Himalayan Bank CEO Ashoke SJB Rana.&nbsp; Nepal will graduate to Middle Income Country status next year, and donors are set to move from aid to private investment. While this could reduce misuse of money, it could dry up grants and soft loans to the health and education sectors.&nbsp; But the harm may go deeper than just the aftermath of the September events. The recent<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/double-trouble-with-taxes"> double taxation issue</a> involving the Dolma Impact Fund, and an earlier controversy over Ncell’s capital gains tax have also put Nepal’s business climate in negative spotlight internationally.&nbsp; The banking sector is firmly on the side of investors. Says Ashoke Rana at Himalayan Bank: “This is a tax regime, it is absurd to order the payment of these taxes retrospectively. When investors see that the rules of the game can change arbitrarily, they won’t really want to put their money here. ” &nbsp; One of the positive changes in the ways Nepalis are using money is digital transactions through QR codes and mobile banking. With smartphones making up 70% of all mobile phones, QR transactions are easy and have become a part of daily life. ONLINE BANKING&nbsp; Most businesses and ride shares have this feature on board, and people do not need to carry a lot of cash or multiple bank cards. But as digital payments become the norm, the days of free transactions may be coming to an end.&nbsp; “Right now these transactions are free for the most part. This is a subsidy by the banks, because of course, it does cost something to make sure the payments go through,” says Rana at Himalayan Bank. “However, as income decreases, banks may have to look for ways to make money, so they may charge small percentages on each QR transaction.”&nbsp; Rapid digitisation has changed not only how customers use money, but also how banks think about their offices. Himalayan Bank’s new Thamel branch, for example, has cancelled plans to redesign the office for 20 tellers.&nbsp; “We realised that people were able to do so much of what they wanted digitally that we plan to have only four tellers,” says Rana.&nbsp; But cutting down on facilities and staff has not always made for a better customer experience at some bank branches.&nbsp; Economist Sujeev Shakya conducts ghost customer experience checks for banks which involves decoys entering banks to evaluate what it is like for somebody to set up a bank account.&nbsp; The stealth missions found that standards of service have regressed, with banks having a working environment reminiscent of government offices.&nbsp; Shakya points out that the general experience of going to the bank should be much better. “Sometimes it’s a knowledge issue -- banks may try to ask for non-disclosure contracts even when they don’t know why they want them,” he says.&nbsp; Despite digitisation, many banks still require paper-based forms and documents. Bankers and customers alike note that it feels archaic, almost absurd, to have to carry multiple copies of documents, sometimes only in Nepali lokta paper, across several family members and fill out what seems to be the same form over and over even though digital files exist. That could soon be changing as well. As more and more Nepalis adopt the National ID, banks have adopted pilot programs that use it to create bank accounts, replacing the myriad documents that customers had to previously present to officials, making all banking transactions more efficient and less of a hassle for the customer.&nbsp; DIGITAL SECURITY As Nepalis move their cash online, digital infrastructure needs to become more secure as well.&nbsp; Bankers spend quite a lot to make sure necessary digital security infrastructure is in place, but some banks could be using pirated software which are not trustworthy.&nbsp; There has to be better regulatory oversight to prevent phishing and fraud as online payments and digital banking spread across Nepal.&nbsp; Banks must also be innovative and ambitious. Says Shakya: “Nowhere else in South Asia are bank loans such a high ratio of the nation’s GDP. &nbsp;This actually points to a well-developed financial system and we have to take advantage of it."&nbsp; Shakya also notes that many bank executives in foreign countries, like Myanmar are actually Nepali, and that banks from Nepal could use their staff and know-how to partner with or acquire banks overseas.&nbsp; While these innovations are all welcome, it is unclear how Nepal's banking sector can jumpstart economic activity in the country. Nepal’s political future looks uncertain and stability is not a guarantee.&nbsp; In the face of continuing progress in hydro electricity and the IT sector seems to be the way forward to stimulate the economy.&nbsp; The GenZ movement was a wakeup call also to financial institutions and the need for greater transparency. Nabil Bank CEO Manoj Kumar Gyawali says the September protests sent a clear message that young Nepalis want an end to corruption, good governance, and real opportunities at home: "The banking sector has a &nbsp;responsibility to direct more lending toward the real economy, sectors that create jobs, build productivity, and strengthen long-term growth," he says.&nbsp; Despite a subdued investment climate, Gyawali is optimistic. "I do see early signs of improvement. Lower interest rates are beginning to restore public and business confidence. Rising remittances provide a safety net and fresh investment capacity for households," he says. "If government capital expenditure continues to improve, it will boost private sector activity."&nbsp;

Things eventually work out

Too little snow, too much rain

The beekeeper of Surkhet

Storing rain inside mountains

Nepal, here comes the sun

Meme movements

The Bon Po way of life

Nepal needs to use its money better

Global warning bell in Belém

Cinema’s shared language

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

Looking at Nepal from Venice

Too little snow, too much rain

Cash rich, but poor