Ayan Dallakoti spent his childhood in Japan, speaking Japanese and for all intents and purposes, considered himself Japanese. It was only as he grew older that he realised he was actually from Nepal. &nbsp; Ayan was eight years old when his mother Pratibha brought him and his younger brother Avan back to Nepal. Their father Anjay, who is still in Japan, had decided to send the boys home so they could “become Nepali”. Ayan was somewhat familiar with the Nepali language and the country, but in Kathmandu, everything felt foreign, including the education system. “Things were a little easier when he had a classmate who had also returned from Japan, but making Nepali friends did not come easily for them,” remembers Pratibha.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040928_c4a683bc4723ce1f5b5683d41add972c915ea6b6fc229a44b713c707381d8787.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240922040928_c4a683bc4723ce1f5b5683d41add972c915ea6b6fc229a44b713c707381d8787" data-rendition-name="original" width="5856" height="3904" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT 3"> <figcaption>All photos: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  Japan is now a major destination for Nepali families like the Dallakotis. Officially, there are 180,000 Nepalis in Japan and 35,000 more left just in the past year – a 30% increase from the year before that.&nbsp; Japanese embassy figures show that of those who left last year, 23,124 were on student visas, 8,566 were on working visas and 7,849 were dependents. While most of the older generation of Nepalis in Japan are cooks who went as ‘skilled labour’, the new crop of migrants are mostly on student visas, working part-time. For the Japanese government, a student visa is a carefully calibrated temporary migration system to fill the country’s labour shortage in the service sector. Unlike the Gulf, Korea, Malaysia and other countries, Nepalis in Japan can also take along their families. Which is why Nepali schools have sprung up in large cities in Japan. These schools teach Nepali language, culture, and also English. But for families who work far away from those cities, the children have no option but to get a Japanese education.&nbsp; Anjay Dallakoti initially went to Japan as a student, but extended his stay with a working visa. Pratibha joined him a few years later as a dependent. Ayan was born in Japan, and six years later Avan. After 12 years, Pratibha is back in Nepal with both her boys.&nbsp; In many Nepali families in Japan, it is the children who are having to adjust to being caught in between two worlds. Many have to cope with the double adjustment of first arriving in Japan, and then returning to school in Nepal. According to Masako Tanaka, a professor at Tokyo’s Sophia University, nearly 20,000 Nepalis in Japan are minors. Tanaka has been working closely with Nepali migrants in Japan, and says many mothers are bringing their children back to Nepal because of worries that they are losing touch with their identity and culture back home. The other reason is that the children are not learning enough English, and the parents fear they will lose out in later life. &nbsp; “Returning to Nepal and studying in schools here helps create an environment for the children to either stay and work in Nepal in future or go to a third country,” says Sapana Kharel, who also returned to Nepal with her two children. For Nepali families who have not yet got permanent resident status, staying on in Japan and continuing their children’s education is too uncertain. They worry that this could interrupt their children’s education if they have to leave Japan midway through school.&nbsp; “There is fear that the children will neither have a place in Nepali schools nor there in Japan,” adds Kharel. Others say that they would have returned to Nepal for the sake of the children no matter what, even if they got permanent residence in Japan. Indeed, there are Nepali mothers who are already permanent residents who have opted to return with their children.&nbsp; Take the Subedi family who have permanent resident status in Japan, but brought their daughter Shibika to Nepal after she completed Grade 1 in Japan.&nbsp; Many migrant children like Shibika had to repeat grades they had already studied in Japan. She had to repeat Grade 1, and is now in Grade 9. Her mother Nitu Bista Subedi feels that repeating a year was necessary to strengthen her daughter’s foundation in the Nepali curriculum.&nbsp; “Shibika has fond memories of Japan and misses being together with the whole family there, and she worries that her Japanese classmates are getting ahead of her,” says Subedi. Ten-year-old Ahana Odari had her own struggles when she was brought to Nepal by her mother a year ago. She too had to repeat Grade 3. “She just wouldn’t speak for the first few months because of the language problem,” remembers her mother, Balika Odari. “Ahana took a whole year to adapt and adjust to Nepal and its ways. But this was necessary.”&nbsp; Like a lot of parents, Balika feels that although Japan’s education system is one of the best in the world, children there are more reclusive and do not socialise as much. “We were worried our children would turn out the same way, and that is why we decided to bring them back and introduce them to their country and culture,” she explains. In more extreme cases, migration can hinder the psychosocial development of returning children. &nbsp; “Early-age children are good at learning dual or multiple languages, but because of the limited vocabulary they are exposed to, they might not always have words to express how they are feeling. And that is where the problem lies,” says Srijana Adhikari, a clinical psychologist at Happy Minds.&nbsp; “For healthy development, the environment the child grows up in and the needs to be stable,” she adds. “If not, this may lead to problems adjusting, separation anxiety and struggles in building relationships.” Sneha Khatri, now 14, oscillated between Nepal and Japan over the years. She was born in Japan but was brought to Nepal when she was six. She studied here until Grade 3 and then went to the Nepali-run Everest International School in Tokyo.&nbsp; Sneha came back to Nepal a month ago to appear for her Basic Level Examination (BLE) but is worried about her results. She is taking extra tutorials in mathematics.&nbsp; Ayan is now in Grade 7, and is also worried about his BLE next year. He says in Japanese-accented English: “Social Studies is my first hardest subject, and Nepali is the second hardest.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040932_3ddaf6b56253baac855f2b4de4f9a646b1c80a677cc8e9d73d469a3c37496ea7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240922040932_3ddaf6b56253baac855f2b4de4f9a646b1c80a677cc8e9d73d469a3c37496ea7" data-rendition-name="original" width="5477" height="3651" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT 4"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040932_3b59646b4c1f30831b039caf8c5e9018fb0ce23349dacebfa0cbee024b4bd885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240922040932_3b59646b4c1f30831b039caf8c5e9018fb0ce23349dacebfa0cbee024b4bd885" data-rendition-name="original" width="5928" height="3808" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT 5"> </figure>  Speaking Nepali with family and friends is not hard for the returnee migrant children, but Nepali as an academic subject is difficult.&nbsp; Professor Tanaka says migrant children have fallen through the cracks between Japan and Nepal. She asks rhetorically, “Who will think about the welfare of the migrant children? Who is responsible for them?”&nbsp; Tanaka was in Kathmandu recently for a workshop on Nepali language education for migrant children during which she presented research findings of her Migrant Children Language Education project. Tanaka’s conclusion is that mother tongue Nepali language education is the best way to help the reintegration of children returning from Japan. “The government can start by developing Nepali language learning resources for online or home learners abroad, training teachers abroad, and organising and encouraging events for Nepali children overseas,” Tanaka told Nepali Times.&nbsp; “Nepal can learn from countries like Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam and Brazil which are working on national language education for their migrant children in Japan.” To be sure, there are also students who are doing well despite the culture shock of moving back and forth between Japan and Nepal.&nbsp; Sapana Kharel’s daughter, Saurya was born in Japan. She came to Nepal when she was six to study in Nepal. Soon after, she went to Japan. She came back when she was 12 to appear for the Nepali BLE. She initially struggled and had low confidence, but soon overcame it and did well. “Now, I’ve realised the importance of learning my mother tongue and have taken up Nepali classes as part of my course,” says Saurya, now 17, in flawless Nepali. But for other migrant children whose parents do not speak enough Nepali when they were in Japan, mastering the mother tongue is still a big hurdle.&nbsp; Ayan’s mother looks at her two children playing at her home in Kirtipur, and says, “The sacrifice we made as a couple, living far from one another, is for our children, their education and for a better future.”&nbsp; <h2>Nepali in Nippon</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040928_bb476f3818df3d28240779b520cb93b2aee216f9a1023e0bbe0fccd3abbcd6f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240922040928_bb476f3818df3d28240779b520cb93b2aee216f9a1023e0bbe0fccd3abbcd6f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT "> </figure>  In June, when the SEE (Secondary Education Examination) results came out, one of the students who passed was a Zambian national student from Japan. He was studying at the Everest International School Japan (EISJ) in Tokyo which follows the Nepali curriculum, and accommodates the need of families in Nepal and other countries in Japan to also learn English. Initially started in 2013 by the Nepali community, this school came under Nepal’s Ministry of Education (MoE) in 2015. EISJ is the only school in Japan that is certified to take Nepal’s SEE in Japan.&nbsp; Other schools that follow the Nepali curriculum have also opened up, over the years. But only two of them, Tokai Batika International School in Nagoya and Himalayan International Academy in Tokyo are certified to conduct Nepali curriculum as per Nepal’s Ministry of Education. But both provide education only below Grade 10.&nbsp; “As of now, the only country to have schools that follow Nepali curriculum is Japan,” says Parshuram Tiwari, director at the Education Review Office at the MoE in Kathmandu. The majority of Nepali families and a few non-Nepali families working in Japan decide to send their children to schools like EISJ because of the English medium. But these are private international schools, unlike the Japanese government schools which are free of cost. And because these schools are not certified, the Japanese government provides no subsidy, no transportation discount among other privileges to these schools, says Professor Masako Tanaka at Sophia University in Tokyo. &nbsp;“Most importantly, graduates of EISJ cannot get visa status independently even after graduation from high school level, while the migrant students who graduate from Japanese schools are eligible.” Many Nepali families enrol their children to such schools without knowing this, adds Tanka. But even those who know about drawbacks want to provide their children with the opportunity to get international exposure with English language skills. Nepali curriculum schools are mostly based in and around Tokyo, and many Nepali families who live in the suburbs of Japan opt to come to Nepal for their children’s education. (Adjoining article) “We lived in Niigata. It would take us six hours to travel to Everest International School in Tokyo. So, we came to Nepal to give our children English medium education,” says Pratibha Dallakoti, who returned from Japan with her two sons in 2020. While schools that follow the Nepali curriculum in Japan have been a relief for Nepali parents who want their children to pursue Nepali curriculum education, these schools getting certified by the Japanese government would be better. “There are several other international schools in Japan that are certified by both Japanese and foreign dual standards like the &nbsp;Kyoto Kokusai School,” wrote Professor Tanaka in an email interview. “It is for the better that these Nepali curriculum schools like EISJ become similar to KKS which makes it easier for the children as they can get a certificate from both the government. ”

Pinki Sris Rana

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Japan-born Nepali children struggle to ‘be Nepali’

A warming atmosphere also warms perennially frozen mountains. The stability of frozen rocks decreases with increasing temperature similar to how butter just taken out of a fridge &nbsp;becomes softer and less resistant to &nbsp;the cutting force of the knife. Thawing frozen mountains means softening them, making them less resistant against gravity, leading to breakage of small to large sections, resulting in rock falls, rock avalanches, and landslides. There is growing concern about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-destruction-ice-is-also-great-and-will-suffice">the impact of global warming</a> on the stability of icy peaks in mountain ranges around the world, which several recent events in the Himalaya well illustrate. Permafrost is a technical short form of ‘permanent frost’ for frozen ground which remains at temperatures below zero degrees throughout the year.&nbsp; Permafrost is below the surface, is not directly visible, and therefore often escapes the attention of scientists and political authorities. Sophisticated methods must be used to explore it, such as drilling, geophysical soundings, or climate-related modelling.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_bbe43b730a10b861f318285a1999a1f6f4d245287618ff49ebfc8e51d154f573.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240907160944_bbe43b730a10b861f318285a1999a1f6f4d245287618ff49ebfc8e51d154f573" data-rendition-name="original" width="4108" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> <figcaption>Even small glacial lakes, such as these currently forming near the terminus of the Kangchenjunga glacier in eastern Nepal, can be dangerous. Photo: ALTON C BYERS(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  Generally, temperatures at surface level and directly below match the temperature of the air immediately above it. Polewards to around 60°N and S latitude, mean annual air and ground temperatures are mostly below 0°C. Permafrost is widespread in Alaska, northern Canada and Siberia. The lower limit of negative mean annual temperatures is at &nbsp;2,000-3,000m at mid-latitudes such as the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-high-places">European Alps</a> or the Southern Alps of New Zealand, to 3,000-4,000m in the Himalaya, and to 5,000m near the equator in the Peruvian Cordilleras. Above these elevations, permafrost affects peaks. In high mountains the permafrost area is often far larger than their glacier-covered regions. In Nepal, the permafrost-affected area is about 2 to 3 times bigger than the glacier area, while in China with the perennially frozen Tibetan Plateau this factor is about 30. Temperatures decrease by 6-7°C for every 1,000m of altitude increase, and the coldest and most deeply frozen rocks are found in the highest parts of the peaks. The frozen zone inside mountains can reach depths of hundreds of metres. It is not just the ice on peaks in the European Alps or the Himalaya that is frozen throughout the year, but so are the rocks.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_b75f78e4ee6d146e797f06536491c445891fbeb578f60105f57247a8dc066bbd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240907160944_b75f78e4ee6d146e797f06536491c445891fbeb578f60105f57247a8dc066bbd" data-rendition-name="original" width="916" height="674" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> <figcaption>Mt Chamlang (7,319m) with creeping frozen debris (rock glaciers, yellow arrows) and Lakes 464 and 465 (blue arrows) from glacier retreat at its foot. Mt Makalu (8,485m) is in the background.(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  The sunny side of mountains are warmer, and the permafrost is thinner there than slopes in mountain shadow. Temperatures are not constant throughout the year, so a thin surface layer up to a few metres on top of permafrost that thaws in summer and freezes in winter. This seasonal freezing and thawing surface layer on permafrost is called the ‘active layer’. Deep, long-term freezing influences geomorphic processes inside mountains, drastically changing their properties. Growth of ice in cracks and fissures within solid rock tends to expand already existing openings, and even create new ones. The related weakening of bedrock, however, is compensated by strong adhesion and increasing strength induced by the ice fillings and related cold temperatures. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/tracing-past-glacial-floods-in-kangchenjunga">Tracing past glacial floods in Kangchenjunga</a>, Alton C Byers Not only the ice itself, but also rocks, rock-ice, and rock-rock contacts increase their strength with lower temperatures. Perhaps most important is the effect of freezing and ice filling of cracks between rocks containing water. Deep frozen rocks are essentially impermeable to water as an often-decisive factor of stability inside mountain slopes. In the abundant debris masses at the foot of high mountains, deep, long-term freezing causes even more spectacular changes. Formation of ice inside and beyond the pores can create a mixture of ice and debris with ice lenses, enabling such ice-rich frozen masses to slowly creep down the slopes of mountains. Landforms resulting from permafrost creep over past millennia look like lava streams and are called ‘rock glaciers’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_dc86dc2e254de22afefcd3f6c2df76af6c0aab87555f702dc853992987dcb3fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240907160944_dc86dc2e254de22afefcd3f6c2df76af6c0aab87555f702dc853992987dcb3fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1072" height="625" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> </figure>  Thawing out From long-term temperature measurements in deep boreholes, we know that global temperature increase of the atmosphere during the past about 100-150 years has warmed up mountain slopes down to depths below the surface of about 100m. The effect of this deep warming is the reversal of the freezing and cooling effects. It reduces the strength of rocks or debris with ice and makes them ‘softer’ and more permeable to water. Over the past decades, creep rates of frozen debris in rock glaciers have markedly increased, and the frequency of large rock-ice avalanches from high-mountain permafrost has accelerated. In the Peruvian Andes, two major events from mountain permafrost occurred in 2020 and 2023. Both had volumes of 1-1.5 million m3, reached lakes at the foot of the slope, and produced flood waves. The 2020 Salkantay flood caused loss of lives and heavy damage at Santa Teresa, 35km down valley. The flood wave at Rasac was fortunately retained within the lake at lower altitude. On 5 May 2012, a massive rock, ice, and debris avalanche from Annapurna IV <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-the-seti-disaster">cascaded into the Seti River gorge</a>, plummeting into a rockfall-dammed lake. The impact triggered an air blast that levelled thousands of hectares of forests, a dust cloud covered the countryside in fine white rock powder, and a hyper-concentrated slurry flood that killed 72 people downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_81860cf5896090449c7fd074796f683c164e2bff782a46390cd43eee6202f19b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240907160944_81860cf5896090449c7fd074796f683c164e2bff782a46390cd43eee6202f19b" data-rendition-name="original" width="780" height="539" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> <figcaption>Rock failure from Annapurna IV led to a series of cascading events that resulted in the Seti River flood of 2012 that killed 72 people. Map: J  KARGEL / D REGMI(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  On 20 April 2017, a high altitude breakage of solid rock from the east face of Saldim Peak (6,388m) in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">Barun Valley turned into a 1.1 million m3 debris flow</a> of ice and sediment that plummeted 1,200m down to the Langmale Glacial lake below. Although the lake was less than 0.01km2 in size, the combination of lake water with melting ice from the ice-debris flow triggered a massive hyper-concentrated flood that destroyed forests, pastureland, and trekking lodges for several dozen kilometres to the Barun’s confluence with the Arun. In India’s Uttarakhand state bordering Nepal, the Chamoli event of 7 February 2021 was catalysed by the detachment of 20 to 30 million m3 of rocks and ice from a frozen, ice-clad peak. The ensuing avalanche developed into a rapidly flowing mass of rocks, ice and water, killing 204 people and heavily damaging an under-construction hydropower infrastructure 35km downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_c7284846f8a571d8d1f5596b7731e7c4c2521f764aaf9e5df23ad9d0ad41d986.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240907160944_c7284846f8a571d8d1f5596b7731e7c4c2521f764aaf9e5df23ad9d0ad41d986" data-rendition-name="original" width="798" height="462" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> <figcaption>This massive breakage (below) of solid rock from Saldim Peak in 2017 fell on a lake and unleashed a flood downstream on the Barun River. Top photo is of the peak before the collapse. Photos: ALTON C BYERS(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_6e686f290b44e89cce8a1b822a74895c8d6a4ac4122572223ba3c4160b88879f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20240907160944_6e686f290b44e89cce8a1b822a74895c8d6a4ac4122572223ba3c4160b88879f" data-rendition-name="original" width="799" height="470" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> </figure>  On 3 October 2023, the collapse of about 15 million m3 of debris from a perennially frozen moraine into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">South Lhonak Lake in the Sikkim</a> Himalaya produced a flood wave and debris flow which killed 14 people with over 100 missing, destroyed a hydropower reservoir at Chungthang, 60km downstream, and caused destruction of houses, roads, and agricultural land. Similar processes may have been involved in the Birendra Tal glacial lake flood of 21 April 2024 and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">the Thame flood of 16 August 2024</a>. Each of the above cases show the potential hazard over long distances related to process chains, especially in connection with impacted mobile water bodies in glacial lakes and artificial reservoirs.&nbsp; <h2>12 TIPS: Awareness and Protective Measures</h2> Changes in high altitude permafrost, and the devastating geomorphic events they cause are still poorly understood by Nepal’s scientific community and government. Earthquakes and heavy rainfall are usually reported by the press to be the primary causes of catastrophic events, both of which are impossible to predict. However, climate change and gravity, the two major forces at work on Himalayan permafrost, are constants. As permafrost continues to destabilise at the highest altitudes in the Nepal Himalaya, more and more devastating events can be expected to occur.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_dd2d77fb090fb2f5c836411d61bd6e7bb4e2e40ea2abae3d8eee8a686e9457dc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20240907160944_dd2d77fb090fb2f5c836411d61bd6e7bb4e2e40ea2abae3d8eee8a686e9457dc" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="733" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> <figcaption>Gabions installed near Chukung in 2015 protected the village from a similar flood from the Lhotse Glacier in 2014. Photo: ALTON BYERS(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  The question is, what can we do about it? Based on our collective experience in the European Alps, Peruvian Andes, and Nepal Himalaya over the past several decades, we offer the following suggestions: 1. Encourage more permafrost and hazard research. Nepal’s scientists and practitioners need to better understand and acknowledge the role of permafrost change in the growing list of climate change-related impacts in the high mountain environment, and more research of an applied nature is indicated. Interdisciplinary approaches that include and involve local people usually yield the most promising and effective results. 2. Standardise glacial lake risk assessment methods. Currently, scientists use various methods to assess a lake’s potential danger of flooding, with predictably mixed and widely differing results. Imja glacial lake in Khumbu, for example, is considered by some scientists to be extremely dangerous, and by others to have a low to moderate risk. The result is confusion among local people, local governments, and scientists alike. 3. Update and revise the current list of potentially dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal. The inventory should incorporate the changing permafrost factor, including smaller lakes less than 0.01km2. Even very small glacial lakes, such as those above Thame and the Langmale glacial lake in the Barun, can be as destructive as large lakes under the right conditions and cascading processes. 4. Develop new feasibility study protocols for large hydropower projects. These guidelines must incorporate the changing permafrost factor as well as the heightened threat of glacier floods. The potentially disastrous impacts of climate change upon major hydropower projects in Nepal have been predicted by scientists for decades, and yet the construction (and destruction) of major, multi-million-dollar installations continues. Hundreds of lives, and millions of dollars of infrastructure, stand to be saved through the use of more detailed, comprehensive evaluations of permafrost and glacier-related risks prior to project implementation. 5. Develop zoning policies. These should discourage the location of farms and infrastructure (homes, tourist lodges) within known and active floodplains. Some scientists believe that most of the deaths from the 2012 Seti flood could have been prevented had settlements not been located directly in the floodplain. 6. Simple is beautiful. Rock-filled wire cages (gabions) can be engineered to effectively divert floods and should continue to be promoted in high mountain regions. In the village of Chukung located directly in the floodplain of the Lhotse Glacier in the Sagarmatha National Park, for instance, the installation of gabions after a glacier flood in 2015 protected the village the following year when a second similar flood from the same glacier occurred.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240907160944_ce975f82275c7936c7948fbf7fd7231b61adecc01d5510760144a8f3d0467859.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20240907160944_ce975f82275c7936c7948fbf7fd7231b61adecc01d5510760144a8f3d0467859" data-rendition-name="original" width="1005" height="695" loading="lazy" alt="The not so permanent frost Page 6-7 #1228 NT"> </figure>  7. Build higher bridges. This can effectively address the growing frequency and magnitudes of glacier floods in the high mountains, eliminating the need for continuous rebuilding. 8. Increase awareness. Nepal’s mountains will continue to destabilise and become even more dangerous in future. Exercising extra caution while crossing a landslide, an active torrent, or a debris-covered glacier is a fact of life in today’s high Himalayan regions. Likewise, constructing a lodge, school, or community building beneath a small and seemingly harmless glacial lake should be discouraged. 9. Promote simple and effective early warning systems. In spite of their much-touted role in disaster mitigation, early warning systems installed to date at potentially dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal have proven to be expensive disappointments. They are typically installed by a remote and distant government agency, little training in their use by local villagers is offered, and local people say they have no idea what the warning sirens sound like nor what they should do if one goes off. Thus far the most effective and proven EWS tool has been the cell phone. Hundreds of lives were saved during the Seti River flood of 2012 when upstream witnesses phoned warnings to their downstream family and friends. 10. Improve mechanisms that allow scientists to communicate. The results of their permafrost and glacier hazard research should directly, quickly, and effectively be communicated to decision-makers. This has proven to be easy to recommend but difficult to implement in most of the world but is nevertheless in need of our constant efforts to achieve. 11. Encouraging transboundary permafrost research. Increased cooperation between scientists and researchers in Nepal, China, and India is needed to help identify potentially vulnerable crossborder rockfall, avalanche, and catastrophic flooding risk. 12. Develop and implement adaptation planning. Continue planning and training programs targeted at permafrost-related floods and other highland-lowland hazards. Local Adaptation Plans for Action (LAPA) have proven to be an effective tool for increasing local awareness of climate impacts as well as planning for mitigation measures. Dr Wilfried Haeberli is with the University of Zurich and Dr Alton C Byers University of Colorado at Boulder.

The not-so-permanent frost

Chandra Basnet started walking from Jajarkot and five days later after climbing passes more than 5,300m high, she reached the desolate tent camp of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19381">yarsagumba harvesters in Upper Dolpo</a>. The 21-year-old joined the seasonal migration with 40kg of supplies on her back and a baby daughter wrapped around her front with a shawl. Her husband carried an additional 20kg of supply. “Bringing my baby was the toughest part, it is hard to carry her,” says Chandra, who is on the third week of her stay. “There are no hospitals around here, so if she falls sick we have to pack up everything and walk back.” The Basnet family is among tens of thousands who move to the high mountains on the Tibet border in the pre-monsoon <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/its-yarsa-picking-time">yarsa gold rush every year</a>. Yarsagumba (Cordyceps fungus) is a fungus that grows on caterpillar larvae at between 3,500-5,000m elevation, and is prized in traditional Chinese medicine fetching up to $110,000 per kg in Shanghai.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_212fa6dfb8c231d21a6af7b7e87e0ffe9028c1feeabb22f833a19e7dfa4cc443.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024083018080_212fa6dfb8c231d21a6af7b7e87e0ffe9028c1feeabb22f833a19e7dfa4cc443" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>All photos: Shrijan Pandey</figcaption> </figure>  The Shey-Phoksundo National Park in Dolpo issues harvest permits every year for a month starting mid-May. This year, there were 8,584 entries – double last year’s total. But climate breakdown and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/overharvesting-yarsa-and-income,1546">overharvesting means that yarsa pickings have fallen</a> in quantity and quality. The Basnet family spent Rs500,000 to come here, expecting high returns but were able to make only Rs200,000. Says Chandra, “We went through a lot of hardships, but hoped we could at least make up the cost of coming here to help raise our daughter, but it was not worth it.”&nbsp; Until recently, yarsa was a lucrative albeit risky undertaking in Nepal’s highlands where subsistence farmers depend on it to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18321">supplement their income</a>. But it is a dangerous occupation. Just this season Karnali Province reported the death of 12 harvesters. Conditions are tough. Most pickers cannot afford proper tents and clothing to cope with the harsh weather. Most bring their children along, and they are the first to fall sick. The health post at Dho Tarap was open, but there was no staff.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_dea884b9a059c76cbbecc3cf6cae70d7de5e08b069e87637c0ad297446661546.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024083018080_dea884b9a059c76cbbecc3cf6cae70d7de5e08b069e87637c0ad297446661546" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>Chandra Basnet walked from Jajarkot to Upper Dolpo with 4okg of supplies and a toddler daughter.</figcaption> </figure>  Jamuna Bista, 22, died on her way back down to Rukum because she could not get medical care in time. Her family cremated her by lighting a pile of shrubs and roots gathered from the arid slopes.&nbsp; Apart from the difficult terrain, yarsa harvest is getting riskier because of higher temperatures, winter drought and unseasonal rain caused by climate breakdown. This affects the yarsa which needs a temperature of between -15°C &nbsp;to -5°C during the winter and pre-monsoon rain to grow properly and emerge partially from the ground.&nbsp; “Looking at the declining yarsa harvest and climate change, we are forced to question if yarsa will soon be extinct,” says Bishwo Babu Shrestha, warden of Shey Phoksundo National Park.&nbsp; This means a major source of livelihood for underserved families in the lower valleys of western Nepal will be in jeopardy, exacerbating the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/brain-gain-into-brain-drain">outmigration trend</a>. As more pickers return empty-handed or with losses that have driven them into debt, the families struggle to support their children.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_b6e6cb98c55696a49569229554a59686ec32e39096e1a03c37857e6e2940e34e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2024083018080_b6e6cb98c55696a49569229554a59686ec32e39096e1a03c37857e6e2940e34e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1416" height="877" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> </figure>  Kunsang Dorje Gurung, 38, of Tinje in Upper Dolpo harvested his first yarsagumba when he was 12. “It was like finding a gold nugget,” Dorje recalled. “I felt an intense energy.”&nbsp; However, in 26 years since, he has noticed a steep decline in the pickings, and the few yarsa that are collected are of poor quality. “I used to make up to Rs300,000 a season back in the day but now, I barely earn Rs30,000,” he says. Gurung blames this on a prolonged drought that also sparked wildfires across the mountains. Some families even performed rituals, praying for rain and a good yarsa harvest. “I don’t have any other job,” says Gurung. “The only thing I know is collecting yarsa. If I find enough, it’s a good year. If not, I have nothing.” Researchers have also plotted the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/giving-yarsagumba-a-chance-for-regrowth">decline in yarsa harvests</a> in the past five years. A kilogram of high-quality yarsa would have between 2,500-2,900 pieces, but now even 4,000 yarsa pieces do not make 1kg.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_daa088be0c5fa992dc5bba26be84e9ee89f66b161cdc9134cb7113992f71ddf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024083018080_daa088be0c5fa992dc5bba26be84e9ee89f66b161cdc9134cb7113992f71ddf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1043" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>A local woman prepares cooking fuel at 4,500m in Upper Dolpo.</figcaption> </figure>  “Yarsa has been a huge source of income, but its ecological, economic, and social impacts are far-reaching,” says Suraj Upadhaya, of the School of Agriculture, Communities and the Environment at Kentucky State University.&nbsp; There is also a tax of Rs31,000 for every kg of yarsa, which pickers often avoid paying. Shey Phoksundo National Park also collects a Rs500 yarsa fee from every resident and Rs2,000 from those outside, making it easy to track the number of harvesters. Last year, Rs85,000 was collected in fees, whereas this year the figure jumped to Rs10.86 million, hinting at enormous overharvesting. Trampling is also another cause of low harvests, researchers say, increased human activity on the slopes means the top soil is compacted, preventing the next cycle of growth.&nbsp; All this means that the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19382">poorest Nepalis </a>are losing an extra source of income that was allowing them to survive.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_df7b151ecb439ead56150934aba4b65786b946d46383f4ba542a61008ac6984e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2024083018080_df7b151ecb439ead56150934aba4b65786b946d46383f4ba542a61008ac6984e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>Harvesters look for yarsa in steep slopes of Upper Dolpo.</figcaption> </figure>  Warns Warden Shrestha: “This is going to unleash an economic crisis in the region, families will not have the money to buy food leading to starvation.” &nbsp; The desperation is already apparent in the rise in crime. Robbers loot pickers on their way down from the mountains, stealing their yarsa or money, or both. There are also territorial disputes between locals and pickers from outside. In 2009, seven people were killed in Manang in a fight.&nbsp; Overharvesting of yarsa also impacts on many other species in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-shey-phoksundo-in-nepal,3596">Shey Phoksundo National Park’s fragile high altitude ecosystem</a> where plants take a lot longer to grow. The endangered animals here like the snow leopard, Tibetan wolf, and blue sheep are also affected by the human impact on their food chain, as well as poaching. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_4a3c0997036eec9fee4cf561f2afdbf8a42a80996d3c7f42b1a92847ce065dda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2024083018080_4a3c0997036eec9fee4cf561f2afdbf8a42a80996d3c7f42b1a92847ce065dda" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> </figure>  “We have not been able to manage this systematically,” admits Shrestha, adding that despite funding from the government, royalties, and tariff collection from locals, many of the security posts lack staff to enforce regulation. “Dolpo used to be a self-sustaining barter economy, but now everything has to be bought,” says Upadhaya whose research suggests that alternative crops like olives can provide a good source of income in the region. Yarsa’s instant reward, however, means local people cannot wait for returns from such long-term investment.&nbsp; Worryingly, much of the income generated from yarsa hasn’t been diverted to productive sectors either. Most of the locals have spent their money on renovating their houses and on consumer items. &nbsp; As Nepal’s road network expands and snakes up through Dolpo, the remotest corners of the Himalaya are being connected. This <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo">can open up new opportunities </a>including the region’s potential for religious and eco-tourism that can provide an alternative livelihood for yarsa pickers. <h2>Easy pickings</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_bebf6aaf638cf8ffeed7ac09ae1a3eb93ff4a4f206e39e291c4654d73711ea3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2024083018080_bebf6aaf638cf8ffeed7ac09ae1a3eb93ff4a4f206e39e291c4654d73711ea3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> </figure>  Pratap Rokaya, 48, is a social studies teacher at Shree Shelri Drugdra School in Saldang in Upper Dolpo, and like his students, started collecting the fungus when he was 17. Despite having a government job, Rokaya says he needs the additional income.&nbsp; Such is the economic significance of yarsa that schools in the region are shut during the harvest season, allowing children to tag along with their parents so that they can also help pick with their keen eye-sight and nimble fingers. &nbsp; “Even though such long breaks are not good for students, their guardians are left with no choice,” Rokaya adds. “We are heavily dependent on yarsa because traditional farming is not enough to support families.”&nbsp; Dhanbir Bista is in Grade 5 but has not been to school for more than a month because he is up here scouring the steep slope on his hands and knees. “I feel bad for leaving school but I have to come here to support my father,” he tells us. Dhanbir’s father, Bhim Bahadur, adds, “It’s very risky to bring young ones, especially after I heard that people from my own village have died. But we need the extra pair of hands.”&nbsp;

The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush

It is like any other evening in Kathmandu’s Gongabu neighbourhood. But at seven every day as the market starts to shut down, Sunita Pradhan Limbu steps out with a heavy bucket in one hand and a packet of plates in the other. Some 30 dogs wait outside, tails wagging furiously. They are used to Sunita appearing every evening, and encircle her. Sunita pours out the meal of rice and meat on each plate and the dogs gobble it all up. This has been Sunita’s routine for the past few years. She does not collect funds from anyone and buys food on her own to feed the community dogs out of affection for the animals, expecting nothing in return except love. “I’ve gotten back from them more than I could ever give them,” says Sunita, who started feeding the dogs during the Covid-19 lockdowns when she saw many pets abandoned on the streets by owners who returned to their hometowns. Sunita, 50, is a musician, and could not allow the dogs that were used to home and family not to be cared for. So she became their guardian. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/one-more-to-remember">One more to remember</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240802070820_03c83448f095ddb9a67dce15c814ff9e28617568927ac2cc8ea3643da02c13d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240802070820_03c83448f095ddb9a67dce15c814ff9e28617568927ac2cc8ea3643da02c13d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1576" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="One dog at a time NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Sunita’s maternal grandfather was a veterinarian, and she had grown up sharing his affection for animals, which left a mark on young Sunita. As a child, she grew up with a pet dog named Johnny. After her marriage in 1998, Sunita lived in Hong Kong with her husband. She came back to Nepal in 2014 to release her solo album Arohi. During that time, as she was running errands for the album launch, she came across a mother dog who was lying lifelessly, surrounded by her young pups. She did not do anything that day, but two days later when she went back to rescue the pups, it was too late. They were nowhere to be found. That day, Sunita made a promise to herself that she would care for other dogs in distress. “I remembered my childhood and was determined to revive my love for dogs and care for them,” she recalls. But caring for the neighbourhood dogs has forced her to drastically change her lifestyle. Sunita was an outgoing person, candid and lively with friends. Now she hardly has time to meet friends or go on a holiday. “I can no longer enjoy overnight stays or meet up with friends because I can’t stop thinking about my kids,” she says of her strays. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/must-love-dogs-js05baah">Must love dogs</a>, Benjamin Zimmerman  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240802070820_0c067d57596b5821e701dad779a99a7fd9117427fcc738f95c6f83711a879f06.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240802070820_0c067d57596b5821e701dad779a99a7fd9117427fcc738f95c6f83711a879f06" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="One dog at a time NT"> </figure>  Her love for music has taken a hit too. She has had to invest in recording her songs, but cannot think of doing that now when the same money will buy food for the 60 or so dogs in her neighbourhood. Sunita also always has the door on the first floor of her house open in case the dogs need shelter. It is particularly useful on rainy nights and in winter. Dogs know where to go, and there is always a soft sack to sleep on. Apart from the stray dogs, Sunita also has nine pet dogs of her own that she rescued from the street after she found them injured. The first one was rescued by her daughter, much like young Sunita used to do with stray pups and kittens. Seeing Sunita spend her day and night caring for the dogs has also made her mother and family support her wholeheartedly. Initially, her neighbours complained that the dogs were littering their sidewalks. But her selfless love for the dogs has won them over too, so much so that her neighbours now also help keep a bowl of water and food for the strays. Everyday is now Kukur Tihar in this Gongabu neighbourhood. Says Sunita: “If you can, love and care for them. If you cannot do that, at least do not hate or beat them.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kalle-s-cross-continental-journey">Kalle's cross-continental journey</a>

One dog at a time

For decades, Nepal’s leaders have promised prosperity by harnessing ‘white oil’, the vast hydroelectricity potential of Himalayan rivers. So far, less than one-tenth of the 48,000MW of feasible hydropower has been exploited — nearly all from run-of-river schemes that do not store water, but use the energy of steep rapids. This results in an annual monsoon power glut, and power scarcity in the dry season as rivers run low. Dams to store water in large reservoirs would solve that problem and balance year-round electricity generation and water supply. Nepal’s only existing reservoir project is Kulekhani, a rock-filled dam built back in 1982 that impounded a 7km long lake called Indrasarovar near Kathmandu. The only second reservoir in Nepal is the 150m tall concrete dam here in Tanahu that stores water for 17 days and is scheduled for completion in 2026.&nbsp; Plans for other dams are stalled: Budi Gandaki (1,200MW) with a 280m high dam, West Seti (750MW), Sun Kosi II (1,110MW) and the mammoth Mahakali (Pancheshwar) Dam on the western border with India. Even bigger projects have been proposed, like the gigantic Karnali Dam at Chisapani (10,800MW) and the Kosi High Dam at Barachhetra in Sunsari.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dam-dangerous">Dam dangerous</a>, Ramesh Kumar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_e9384b8a0ef56b30019f6f217a7b3536fed0fa7abdb495a20efdddb622bfbed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024072005078_e9384b8a0ef56b30019f6f217a7b3536fed0fa7abdb495a20efdddb622bfbed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="1970" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>Built in 1982, Kulekhani is the only reservoir project in Nepal today. Photos: PINKI SRIS RANA</figcaption> </figure>  “Except Kulekhani, all hydropower projects in Nepal are run-of-river which produce enough electricity during the peak monsoon season, but in winter there is no rain and during that time, we buy electricity at a costlier rate than we sell to India,” says former Water Resources Minister Dipak Gyawali.&nbsp; Gyawali reasons that storage hydropower will even out the seasonal imbalance of both the water and the electricity, and boost Nepal’s domestic economy.&nbsp; However, storage projects are more expensive because of construction, land acquisition and impact on food supply. But there is a way to reduce cost by ensuring that regulated water has multi-purpose benefits downstream for agriculture and for fisheries, water supply, or tourism, with electricity a byproduct. Hydropower developer Kumar Pandey agrees: “The widening of a reservoir project’s purpose broadens investment prospects from different sectors and helps minimise the energy cost.” However, Nepal will have to balance the economy’s growing demand for year-round clean energy with those dams damaging local livelihoods, riverine ecosystems, lowering food production and exposing expensive infrastructure to climate and seismic risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_524f39c49583df1fb201abf67995edcc1dc808dd7a1b499b247978a750c06c5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024072005078_524f39c49583df1fb201abf67995edcc1dc808dd7a1b499b247978a750c06c5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2625" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>Construction site of the 140m high concrete dam on the Seti River that will impound a reservoir 18km long in Tanahu when the project is completed in 2026. </figcaption> </figure>  Industrialised countries are dismantling some of their dams to let their rivers flow free again. But Nepal is only now embarking on a dam-building spree for energy and regulated water.&nbsp; “Nepal’s need for electricity is still to be fulfilled, so dismantling dams is pretty far-fetched,” says Gyawali. “Rather than ‘no dams’, we should be pushing for ‘no bad dams’.” There are currently 167 licensed hydropower projects in Nepal whose installed capacity will reach 3,000MW this year. When 278 new projects that are under construction come on stream, electricity generation will exceed 10,000MW by 2030. Dams in Nepal tend to have shorter lifespans because Himalayan rivers have some of the highest sediment loads in the world. Making dams seismic resistant adds to their cost. On top of this, there are now added dangers of glacial lake outburst floods, extreme rainfall and landslide dammed river ruptures.&nbsp; Nepal’s rivers frequently suffer these disasters, the latest in 2021 in Melamchi and eastern Nepal last year that damaged hydropower infrastructure. But an example of catastrophic destruction was the October 2023 flood on Sikkim’s Teesta that destroyed the $1.2 billion Chungthang dam and other projects. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/missing-pieces-of-the-hydropower-jigsaw">Missing pieces of the hydropower jigsaw</a>, Sonia Awale&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_6495183f214ce73edf5b9ffe8a307f150b9a21d59b892c7b5ec46d6861a32a66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024072005078_6495183f214ce73edf5b9ffe8a307f150b9a21d59b892c7b5ec46d6861a32a66" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1347" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>The 3D rendition on the Tanahu project dam.</figcaption> </figure>  “Climate change has drastically changed rainfall patterns, and we are yet to understand the impact on the hydropower projects,” says Kumar Pandey. “There can be many different factors that put dams at risk, but exaggerating the risks even before a project is started is fear-mongering.” Near Damauli, halfway between Kathmandu and Pokhara, the designers of the Tanahu dam say they have taken into account the Seti River’s origins in the glaciers of the Annapurna and its frequent floods.&nbsp; “We factor in the worst-case scenario and measure the probable maximum flood that could happen and tailor the structure to withstand the probable flood,” says acting project head Shyamji Bhandari at the project site near Damauli. Tanahu’s design includes flushing gates to minimise monsoon sedimentation to ensure longevity of the dam. Bhandari adds, “And if these measures aren’t enough and a calamity does strike, we also have an emergency siren system to warn downstream areas.” Nepal’s rivers are older than the Himalaya, and many of them start in China, cutting mighty gorges through the mountains, and flow down to join the Ganga in India before emptying into the delta in Bangladesh.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_f34e6ce2a703d568ea5ce69de3d75dd667838996f0a083673c78eb249c47fd0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024072005078_f34e6ce2a703d568ea5ce69de3d75dd667838996f0a083673c78eb249c47fd0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1330" height="882" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> </figure>  Rivers do not respect country boundaries, but hydropower projects are built within national jurisdictions. Nepal has had to navigate intricate geopolitics with its lower riparian neighbour India, and it has not always gone smoothly. Past projects like the Kosi and Gandaki that India built on the border 50 years ago are seen by many experts as being unfair to Nepal. More recently, New Delhi has refused to buy surplus electricity from hydropower projects in Nepal in which the Chinese are involved. Reservoirs in the Himalaya are going to be even more geopolitically sensitive because the climate crisis will make water a strategic commodity for India’s densely populated and increasingly prosperous Ganga plains. “Rivers are continuous with upstream-downstream linkages. Anything done on rivers in Nepal will have an impact downstream, which is why rivers should be studied in totality, and infrastructure designed keeping that in mind,” says water expert and author Ajaya Dixit.&nbsp; Storage dams in Nepal will regulate water on rivers flowing downstream, and if Nepal builds them with international loans India will benefit for free, while Nepal’s fertile and populated valleys are submerged. But for strategic reasons, India may want to have a say in Nepal’s plans to dam its rivers. An estimated<a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/321426715_Groundwater_resilience_Nepal_Preliminary_findings_from_a_case_study_in_the_Middle_Hills"> 70% of dry season flow</a> and 40% of annual discharge on the Ganga comes down from its tributaries in Nepal. It therefore makes sense for India and Nepal to plan for the future by regulating flow. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balance-of-power">Balance of Power</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_d26f93973f5687cbcde14e194a9f58979e94326dc612edc86221b97f55677790.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024072005078_d26f93973f5687cbcde14e194a9f58979e94326dc612edc86221b97f55677790" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="1266" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> </figure>  The other consideration is ecological. Dams are even more disruptive on riverine ecosystems than run-of-river schemes, and destroy the habitat of Himalayan rivers which are havens for biodiversity. Some endangered fish, amphibian and bird species are found nowhere else on the planet.&nbsp; A 2018 Asian Development Bank report, Impact of Dams on Fish and Rivers in Nepal, found that hydropower projects did not use any tool to measure the possible impact on aquatic biodiversity. &nbsp; ‘Dams act as barriers for migratory movement of fish, in many cases, threatening species’ survival,’ the report stated. In northeastern Nepal, a local community in Lumba Sumba is lobbying internationally to crowdfund a campaign against a hydropower project on ancestral land in the Chhujung River valley that they say will also disturb the habitat of endangered snow leopards. How well Nepal’s planners can balance geopolitics, rising energy demand and economic growth with ecosystem protection and respect for human rights will be tested in the coming years, as the country embarks on a dam-building spree. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Displacing people to store water</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_2870cd71c55d84dd835d90b13a34235a0c477b525a2b78ec2b3a3b129e065a83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024072005078_2870cd71c55d84dd835d90b13a34235a0c477b525a2b78ec2b3a3b129e065a83" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>The Tanahu project will inundate the house of Battimaya Biswakarma as well as those of her family members in Wangtangetar.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s first reservoir project on the Kulekhani Khola was built in 1982 on a spring-fed stream near Kathmandu. The inundation displaced 3,500 people who were not adequately compensated. “Back then, people were naive and Kulekhani residents gave up their land without much discussion,” says Ram Kumar Shrestha, 59, whose family was among those who had to move. They are currently living on the outskirts of Markhu. His father, Jhamak Lal Shrestha was the village head during the absolute monarchy days. Residents of Kulekhani under consideration to be given land in Thori near the Indian border in Chitwan, but many were not happy. “It was too hot and there was danger from wild animals,” recalls the senior Shrestha, now 79. Some invested the compensation money on land elsewhere and did well, but others spent it on everyday expenses and were soon destitute. The compensation and resettlement plan for the Kulekhani displaced was ‘deeply flawed’ as per a report by researcher Jagdish Chandra Pokharel. And Nepal’s record for resettlement of people for infrastructure and national parks has not improved since then.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/geopolitics-of-nepal-s-rivers">Geopolitics of Nepal’s rivers</a>, Ramesh Kumar Kulekhani’s history is being repeated in Tanahu. By the banks of the Seti River in the village of Badarkuna, cows and water buffaloes graze without a herder in sight amidst cement pillars with painted numbers.&nbsp; These are farms that belong to the people of Paltyang village, who cultivated fields by the river but lived up the mountain till as recently as three years ago.&nbsp; “Our ancestors lived in Paltyang because there was malaria down here in Badarkuna,” explains Til Bahadur Thapa, 64, who along with wife Sansasri worked the fields by the river and climbed back up to Paltyang just to sleep.&nbsp; The cement pillars on Thapa’s field mark the area that will be inundated by the Tanahu dam. After they were put up, the Thapas stopped farming here.&nbsp; Yam Kumari Thapa, 43, grew more than enough rice and maize in her fields near Fedi Khola, a tributary of Seti– that will soon be submerged. She sold the surplus in the market. Now, she is fighting for compensation for her land.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072708078_bce072e5e7051cbbb995ed2763bca448927b576f14acdcc8e636755961642838.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2024072708078_bce072e5e7051cbbb995ed2763bca448927b576f14acdcc8e636755961642838" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="Building dams"> </figure>  A little above Badarkuna is a Dalit settlement that will also soon be underwater. The land is undocumented, and this means compensation from the project will be complicated for the 12 families here.&nbsp; “We know that electricity is important and we are not against development,” says Battimaya Biswakarma of the Dalit settlement of Wangtangetar. “All we are asking for is a place to live like we were living here.” The Tanahu project has affected 560 households but 41 households are fighting for land compensation. How the Tanahu project compensates them will set a &nbsp;precedent for other even bigger reservoir projects being planned, like Budi Gandaki which will displace 3,560 households and Sun Kosi II which will affect 15,000 people. “Hydropower is built on rivers and water is a socially required resource which is why the development of dams brings out a lot of local social and environmental issues,” explains hydropower developer Kumar Pandey. &nbsp; Run-of-river projects are at high risk from floods, but relatively benign because unlike reservoirs, they do not displace too many people and submerge fertile farmlands.&nbsp; Some experts say Nepal should not be investing in colossal projects like the $1.3 billion Upper Arun in northeastern Nepal directly under mountains that will be vulnerable to glacial lake outburst floods, and instead prioritise smaller schemes and spread the risk. “Smaller run-of-river projects require much less area while mega storage projects submerge huge tracts of farmland and displace people, making the financial and social cost heavier,” says Jagdish Chandra Pokharel, author of the Kulekhani report and former chair of the National Planning Commission.&nbsp; However, the need for a year-round balance of electricity and water supply is forcing Nepal’s planners to look at the larger picture and opt for big reservoir projects.&nbsp; Til Bahadur Thapa looks below at his fields on the banks of Seti River that his ancestors have farmed for generations but will now be submerged by the Tanahu reservoir. He says simply, “A country cannot develop by driving people like us off the land.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-waters-of-life">Saving the waters of life</a>, Mohan Mainali

Rivers be dammed

For the decades that he was an underground guerrilla commander, and even when he took his oath of office after being elected prime minister in 2008 and 2016, Pushpa Kamal Dahal never wore Nepal’s official dress.&nbsp; But that changed in 2022, during his third swearing in. He came in a daura suruwal and black Bhadgaunle topi, an attire that Dahal himself described as a symbol of Nepal’s feudal past and a national identity foisted on the country’s ethnic minorities. Since then, he has pointedly refused to wear anything else during official events, and even when he attended Indian prime Minister Narenda Modi’s own third oath-taking as prime minister last month. Considered national attire for men until 2011, the dress was removed from its title along with gunyo cholo for women by another Maoist Prime Minister Baburam Bhattarai in 2012, saying Nepal was too ethnically diverse to have a national uniform. But the daura suruwal is back. Most senior politicians and bureaucrats wear it with a grey Western-style jacket and black topi to work, even though it is neither suited for the heat of the Tarai nor the freezing cold of the high Himalaya. For the public, the dress is a go-to fit for marriages and social gatherings.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240706040728_77b79c351551aab57b0a2fa09aa82748cd6f9fa1c1ab91b7d5f85089660c0f9e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240706040728_77b79c351551aab57b0a2fa09aa82748cd6f9fa1c1ab91b7d5f85089660c0f9e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Daura suruwal page layout NT"> </figure>  No one really knows when the dress originated, or why it looks the way it does. Most agree it originated during the Malla era in Kathmandu Valley. Others say it is geopolitically fitting that Nepal’s national dress has suruwal bottoms that resemble Jodhpur riding pantaloons from India, and the daura is similar to bhoto shirts worn in Tibet. The western jacket and waistcoat were added during the Rana era. “Examining sculptures and rare photographs of the Malla era show that the present day daura suruwal has its roots in dresses worn at that time,” explains historian Tri Ratna Manandhar. “There are photographs of Newa merchants in Bhot (Tibet) wearing similar clothing towards the end of Malla reign.”&nbsp; In bronze sculptures at the National Museum in Chhauni, Malla kings are also seen to be wearing dresses that look like the daura suruwal. The only difference seems to be that the kilt-like skirts that the daura evolved into were longer then. The kings also wore the pagadi headgear similar to what Rajput royalty in India wore. &nbsp; “It was during the Rana regime &nbsp;that the dress became official,” Manandhar continues. “When King Surendra died and his grandson Prithvi Bir Bikram (father of King Tribhuvan) ascended the throne in 1881, the official invitation had an order to wear jama (similar to daura), suruwal and pagadi.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240705130724_374ca96cb62826ab0f8a817a04afbc6cfdcf5ab41780cb4098f0f031e3120a17.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240705130724_374ca96cb62826ab0f8a817a04afbc6cfdcf5ab41780cb4098f0f031e3120a17" data-rendition-name="original" width="2145" height="3905" loading="lazy" alt="Daura Suruwal Illustration"> <figcaption>Illustrations: LAXMI TAMANG</figcaption> </figure>  The famous photo of a garlended King Tribhuvan emerging from a plane after his exile in 1950 is the exact version of the present day daura-suruwal. History professor at Tribhuvan University Purushottam Lochan Shrestha says culture is constantly evolving, and the dress has changed accordingly. “The officialisation of the dress took place during Tribhuvan’s reign &nbsp;and ministers started wearing the daura suruwal,” says Manandhar. Although the daura suruwal was worn by ordinary people in Kathmandu Valley, it also became the official attire of the ruling class with the western-style waistcoat, jacket and belt added.&nbsp; King Mahendra’s slogan ‘Ek Raja, Ek Desh, Ek Bhasa, Ek Bhes’ (One King, One Nation, One Language, One Dress) became the rallying cry for symbols of Nepali nationhood during the Panchayat.&nbsp; Daura suruwal with waist coat (called ‘istakot’ in Nepali) also became semi-official in summer, but today is mostly the uniform of restaurant servers. When it is hot, some officials are even seen in half-sleeve daura (also called labeda).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240705130712_ccd3a388ba3635a293d78e29a0e0d834bf467a2b0fbcbee8dba2a73201a7ba97.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240705130712_ccd3a388ba3635a293d78e29a0e0d834bf467a2b0fbcbee8dba2a73201a7ba97" data-rendition-name="original" width="996" height="687" loading="lazy" alt="King Tribhuvan Daura Suruwal"> <figcaption>King Tribhuvan wore a version of the present day daura-suruwal.</figcaption> </figure>  “Back then, everyone in Kathmandu would wear daura suruwal with istakot and black topi,” recalls Hera Bahadur Shakya of the Rastriya Daura Suruwal Tailors shop, which has been stitching the dress for the past 70 years. Most people made one daura and two or three suruwals to last them the whole year.&nbsp; The attire has evolved with modernity. The second inner suruwal has been mostly abandoned, the pants have elastic waistbands instead of strings, pockets have been added, and some even have flies with zippers. “The choice for fabric has also changed,” says Moon Prajapati of Namuna College of Fashion Technology. “Traditional suruwal were loose fitted and roomier around the waist so it would be easier to work in the fields. But today they are tighter.” The daura suruwal today is worn mostly by state officials, or during marriage and other festival rituals, and by Nepalis who want to make a national statement&nbsp; These needs have kept some tailoring shops open, even though many others have closed, either because the skills have died with their dressmakers, or the lack of demand. &nbsp; <h2>The Nepali Babu Fit</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240705130712_41be1f2c628fb388658b43c645c4409d1a214311b37d67319a1c17e61e396271.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240705130712_41be1f2c628fb388658b43c645c4409d1a214311b37d67319a1c17e61e396271" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1373" loading="lazy" alt="Daura Suruwal model NT"> <figcaption>Model: AAYUSH RAI / Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  King Mahendra wanted the daura suruwal to be a symbol of Nepali nationhood, but it was the song 'Ma hu Nepali Babu, Made in Nepal' of the movie Nepali Babu that celebrated the dress as something that should be proudly worn. But while the dress retains some of these sentiments, many find it is an obsolete vestige of an outdated past, and does not reflect Nepal’s ethnic and cultural diversity.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070514070_453cdf14f3651f519900b6ef3ad0086501fc2015b357ba1af09562e312d88f28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024070514070_453cdf14f3651f519900b6ef3ad0086501fc2015b357ba1af09562e312d88f28" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Daura NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070514070_487765646369ce40f0ed3083a6be81e3920a085c12910caa99d7742bde047d80.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024070514070_487765646369ce40f0ed3083a6be81e3920a085c12910caa99d7742bde047d80" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Suruwal NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070514070_277bdd897fcec739b65e682784a8638f4e5ad603dcdbacb8bdc0e4f606b5d4d1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024070514070_277bdd897fcec739b65e682784a8638f4e5ad603dcdbacb8bdc0e4f606b5d4d1" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Coat NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070514074_155a6f73f4f38718605983befae71d782c7e7a3d4662917c76036e8ce340595f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2024070514074_155a6f73f4f38718605983befae71d782c7e7a3d4662917c76036e8ce340595f" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Istakot NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070514074_5f1324bef5528c11bc4bee672777b055f9d7534c0fa210576267c2d4607132b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024070514074_5f1324bef5528c11bc4bee672777b055f9d7534c0fa210576267c2d4607132b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Patuka NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070514074_ec7c2e60ed6d6cf70e284d5e9bb973d1237543e0359cdf05e0d99b704c18ec04.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024070514074_ec7c2e60ed6d6cf70e284d5e9bb973d1237543e0359cdf05e0d99b704c18ec04" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Topi NT"> </figure>  <h2>Bharat Basnet, Tourism Entrepreneur</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240705130720_4a0339ce762c9625cded9868b709fbcd833cc1d2823950ade635c3fea35e4768.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20240705130720_4a0339ce762c9625cded9868b709fbcd833cc1d2823950ade635c3fea35e4768" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Bharat Basnet"> <figcaption>Photo: THE EXPLORE NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  You won’t catch tourism entrepreneur Bharat Basnet not wearing a daura suruwal. At social gatherings, at home or work, and even during visits abroad, he proudly dons his trademark attire. Born in Khotang, Basnet grew up wearing kamiz suruwal which is still his regular preferred home wear. But as he got older and expanded his businesses, he grew fond of daura suruwal. “In the tourism industry, we talk a lot about preserving our culture but we wear western clothes,” says Basnet, 66. “So, after a while, I got tired of the hypocrisy.”&nbsp; A staunch fan of Prithvi Narayan Shah’s legacy, Basnet’s shift to daura suruwal was a strategic move. Nepal’s founding king wrote the Divyopadesh as advice for his young kingdom which highlighted the importance of self-reliance. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Basnet’s daura suruwal are all made of handwoven Nepali fabric, even the jacket. Basnet feels the dress is the most practical and comfortable day-to-day wear. He says, “For me the daura suruwal reflects who we are as Nepalis, and makes us truer to ourselves.”&nbsp; <h2>Bhusan Dahal, Media Personality</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240705130716_f672e52047fe2c28013bb191fee9db7b29a3606e89b11be48f3454518b2dfb40.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240705130716_f672e52047fe2c28013bb191fee9db7b29a3606e89b11be48f3454518b2dfb40" data-rendition-name="original" width="751" height="866" loading="lazy" alt="Bhushan Dahal NT"> <figcaption>Photo: NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Although a more occasional wearer of daura suruwal, Dahal considers the dress “fantastically comfortable wear”. He began wearing the national dress in his early twenties when he started working at Nepal Television. Except for formal events, the dress was not a compulsion back then, but Dahal preferred the attire. “Whenever there’s an invitation that requires formal clothing then I tend to go in a daura suruwal in a sober colour,” says the 57-year-old Dahal, who now hosts the Bravo Delta Show on YouTube.&nbsp; Sometimes he wears a suit, but finding a matching shirt, tie, and pocket square is a hassle. In the case of daura suruwal, if it is pressed and hanged, it is wear-and-go. Dahal says the dress gives him an identity, it is recognisable and unique. For the complete look, Dahal prefers a Nepali printed dhaka topi, which he wears even with the kamiz suruwal. He says, “I have developed a fetish for the topi.” &nbsp;

दौरा सुरुवाल

Through the intricate lattice window on the western facade of the palace must have been from where the Malla kings of Patan looked down at the square below.&nbsp; Today, visitors to Patan Museum can sit at the exact corner and see the same square which, several centuries later, remains largely unchanged. Except for the tourists and devotees at Krishna Mandir and other temples.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_31791a3a564ecaf85ad9e9ee52488bff034a5336f6561a0df2cb6d8e740cacea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240329060316_31791a3a564ecaf85ad9e9ee52488bff034a5336f6561a0df2cb6d8e740cacea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Keshav Narayan Chok. All photos: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: suman)</figcaption> </figure>  Inside is the best-designed museum in Nepal, the work of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Back-to-Basics-in-Bhaktapur,1377">Götz Hagmüller</a> and his team of architects, who had made Bhaktapur his home and who died in February. Hagmüller did not just restore the old palace, but also designed the museum interior and curated the exhibits. But most importantly, the team ensured that the museum would have an independent governing body that would use revenue from fees and events for the museum’s upkeep. This has given the museum a rare longevity for an institution in Nepal. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-s-legacy-is-goetz-hagmueller-s-legacy">Kathmandu’s legacy is Götz Hagmüller’s legacy</a>, Kunda Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_460c6ade80ae4064d3f761de57b7a004f9b755645db3185366754b1d2ffe82e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240329060316_460c6ade80ae4064d3f761de57b7a004f9b755645db3185366754b1d2ffe82e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> </figure>  The result is more than one of Kathmandu’s most popular destinations for visitors, but a museum that serves an educational function for Nepali students, supplementing what they learn in social studies and history classes in school. The carefully curated bronze, stone and wooden figures span Nepal’s religious faiths, historical periods and geographical zones, providing a striking experience of exploration and learning. Hagmüller led the restoration project of the Keshav Narayan Chok and the dilapidated palace structure, preserving the traditional architecture of the palace while modernising it to suit modern museum necessities. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/learning-from-nepals-past-to-rebuild-its-future/" target="_blank">Learning from Nepal's past to rebuilt its future</a>, Prakriti Kandel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_bfc89739080a1339c9db8a83c7bc332aea37893f6cd9cb506b1a369ac9a68d00.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240329060316_bfc89739080a1339c9db8a83c7bc332aea37893f6cd9cb506b1a369ac9a68d00" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> </figure>  At a time when technology has taken over, and patience to learn through real experiences has decreased, Patan Museum is a space for young students and visitors to learn about Nepal’s glorious past, its culture, and observe intricate Nepali craftsmanship. “Patan Museum is a place of learning regarding two major aspects: heritage and art, specifically relating to Hinduism and Buddhism,” explains Suresh Man Lakhe of Patan Museum. “Students may learn about Buddha’s life in their textbooks, but the museum supplements that learning by letting them visualise his legacy.” &nbsp; Only 200 of the Museum’s expansive collection of 1,100 objects are currently on view, and they are spread across eight themed galleries. Images range from major gods of the Hindu pantheon such as Vishnu, Shiva and Ganesh to benign or fierce representations of Bodhisattvas.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/preserving-patan-post-earthquake">Preserving Patan post-earthquake</a>, Claire Burket  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_40b0b223afe15566e200ac14f69a527eacc736b040f5b5d982930aa601c51b41.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240329060316_40b0b223afe15566e200ac14f69a527eacc736b040f5b5d982930aa601c51b41" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Dipankara Buddha</figcaption> </figure>  The section on Buddhist chaityas has clear explanatory notes about the significance of their design. No student will look at Swayambhu or Boudha after learning why the spire and cupola look the way they do. Indeed, all the exhibits have bilingual captions with comprehensive backgrounds about the myths and symbols present in the art pieces and their approximate age. This helps answer frequently asked questions from students such as the reason behind the multiple heads and hands of deities, the symbolic ornaments of Shiva and Vishnu, and the significance of the stupa design.&nbsp; The composition, medium, symbols, and expressions of bronze gilt copper repoussé are explained in detail, including the craftsmanship of the lost wax process. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/bedrock-of-buddhism">Bedrock of Buddhism</a>, Kunda Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_8e1bcf9bace65f4b7ba2c8b05cf92337b1f54d12776ebc0841bd179b56faf7a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240329060316_8e1bcf9bace65f4b7ba2c8b05cf92337b1f54d12776ebc0841bd179b56faf7a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Students can learn in detail the process of creating a repoussé mask at the Patan Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  Gallery B has explanations of Ganesh in a military avatar, ablaze with a flaming backdrop, and another of the elephantine god with six heads and six arms. He rests on snakes in one sculpture and is part of an oil lamp in another. There are nuanced variations in the depiction of Ganesh’s eyes and trunks in each of the objects. "Patan Museum, and indeed the whole Darbar Square, is a living heritage where our students learn history through the architecture, art, culture, and festivals,” says Rekha Pandey, a social studies teacher and educator at Rato Bangala Foundation. “It is ideal learning as the museum exhibits provide a multi-sensory experience that cannot be found in textbooks or lectures.” Museum staff are planning interactive worksheets and cards as learning devices with colourful and interactive worksheets ‘Let’s Discover Patan Darbar’ that allow students to navigate the historic square.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/itumbahas-living-museum">Itumbaha's living museum</a>, Sahina Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_1d6a101fa7f8c593070171abbf2866b73497ac3a10f5660bb716f1aa85da9aa6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240329060316_1d6a101fa7f8c593070171abbf2866b73497ac3a10f5660bb716f1aa85da9aa6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>A 12th-century limestone sculpture of Uma-Maheswar depicting Shiva’s family on Mount Kailash.</figcaption> </figure>  Lakhe says the museum can expand its instructional function with a separate education department. “With additional resources devoted to education, we can focus on creating much more learning opportunities for students,” he adds. &nbsp; There is a story behind every exhibit at the Museum. Gallery B, for example, hosts a 12th-century limestone sculpture of Uma-Maheswar depicting Shiva’s divine family on Mount Kailash. This statue was stolen in 1982 and then returned by a museum in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-did-a-nepali-ritual-altar-end-up-in-berlin">Berlin</a> in 1990. Another piece shows Vishnu carried by the Sunbird, a copper alloy sculpture dating back to the 17th century, adorned with metallic Garuda wings. Students can learn in detail the process of creating a repoussé mask, from an initial pencil design to the feeling of the hammer hitting the bronze sheet. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/remembering-nepals-lost-and-the-found">Remembering Nepal's lost and the found</a>, Ashish Dhakal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_4431f200938cef4be6b390dbde827c0973d85c2ab36dcc1669e6b9dc92319f3e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20240329060316_4431f200938cef4be6b390dbde827c0973d85c2ab36dcc1669e6b9dc92319f3e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Tusha Hiti where King Siddhi Narsingh Malla used to pray and meditate in the 1640s.</figcaption> </figure>  Patan Museum provides an open-air experience, it is not limited to a building but has access to multiple courtyards including the Mul Chok and Sundari Chok with the exquisite Tusha Hiti step well, and the Bhandarkhal Tank. One of the treasures of the Patan Museum is Tusha Hiti step well where King Siddhi Narsingh Malla used to pray and meditate in the 1640s overlooking a gilded copper spout depicting a Garuda and Laxmi Narayan, and embellished by over 50 carved stone deities in thrones of carved foliage. Visitors can retrace the steps of past royals and their court treading the same stone steps that have been polished by the passage of feet and time.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/patan-heritage-in-fantasy-fiction">Patan heritage in fantasy fiction</a>, Trishagni Sakya

A portal into Patan’s past and present

Formal education in schools and universities became available to ordinary Nepalis only 70 years ago. But even then women were not encouraged to get an education.&nbsp; The 1971 Education Plan laid out a strategy to raise literacy levels, and encouraged girls’ enrollment in schools. Over the decades, female teachers were added to school faculties, girls were given scholarships and free basic education and women’s rights were enshrined in the Constitution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> <figcaption>ALL PHOTOS: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  The progress is undeniable: Nepal now boasts near-equal enrollment rates for both boys and girls at primary level. However, dropout rates for young women is still high in secondary and higher education. The female literacy rate is 69.4% compared to 83.6% for males. Socio-cultural norms, poverty, child marriage and lack of proper sanitation facilities in schools are factors hindering equal access to education.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  But in a case of better late than never, older women who were denied education when young are enrolling in formal education. “We have studied that men and women are wheels of the same chariot. How can the chariot move forward when one wheel is well oiled and the other is not,” asks Anjana Maharjan, Principal of Shradha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu that offers classes from Grade 1 through 10 for girls 12 years and above.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Age no bar"> </figure>  “When a man is educated, the house prospers, whereas when a woman is educated, the family prospers. When a family is capable, the village becomes capable. When a village becomes capable, the country develops,” she adds. But the road back to the classroom is not always smooth. Household chores for women often leave little time for studies. The social stigma of starting school later in life or the fear of being judged can be deterrents for some. Many lack of support from their families, and have to lie about going to school.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="5719" height="3812" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  “There are students here who come here while telling their family that they are going to work,” says Prabha Chalise, Principal at Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato that provides classes for young women 14 years and older.&nbsp; Some women stay on after class to finish their assignments and leave their books in school so that no one back home finds out.&nbsp; “Society and family should encourage women, they must inspire them and push them to get an education, not judge them for it,” says Chalise. Meet some of the women achieving their lifelong dream of attending school: Indra Kumari Ale, 71  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738" data-rendition-name="original" width="3840" height="2416" loading="lazy" alt="Indra Kumari Ale"> </figure>  Every morning, Indra Kumari Ale takes a half an hour walk from her home in Kusunti to Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato, carrying a blue and purple backpack. Once inside the brown gates, she makes her way to the second floor and takes her place inside the classroom. Growing up in Syangja, Ale got basic education, but her father thought girls did not need education and married her off at the age of 18. Her husband was in the Indian army, and Ale took care of her in-laws while he was away serving.&nbsp; For 25 years, the two maintained a long-distance relationship and her husband would only be home during holidays. Because she herself could not go to school, Ale made sure all her children did. Her two older daughters were married off after completing high school, and her youngest daughter has completed medical school. &nbsp;&nbsp; During all the time she was home looking after the family, Ale yearned to go to school but that dream never materialised until 2015 when her youngest daughter, convinced her to join the school for women. &nbsp; She started in Grade 1, and excelled in studies, got the highest scores in class skipped grades. “It was easy in the lower classes, even till class 7/8, but it is more difficult now more so because of my age, my eyes and ears have started to fail,” she says.&nbsp; Last year, Ale sat for her SEE exams, which she says was “fun”, giving the test with other students who were her grandchildren’s age.&nbsp; “The students as well as the teachers there showed me love and respect as I was sitting for exams at my age. I did not think I would pass, but I did,” she says.&nbsp; Until then not many outside Ale’s family knew she was going to school. When the results were announced, people from her locality came to know that she had passed the SEE exams, and they came together to honour her for her achievement.&nbsp; Now in Grade 11, she is proud of her decision to go to school. “In the past when my neighbours asked where I was going carrying a backpack, I would say I’m going for a walk,” says Ale. “These days everyone in my community knows I go to school and they love and respect me for continuing my education.” Education has not only given Ale recognition in her family and society but has also helped her become more independent. “From reading signboards to hailing buses, I can do all that by myself now,” she says. “Now, I understand English even if I can’t speak it properly yet, I did not think I’d be able to do all this at this age.” Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885" data-rendition-name="original" width="5880" height="3892" loading="lazy" alt="Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar"> <figcaption>Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55</figcaption> </figure>  In the mountains of Palpa, Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar was known for her dulcet voice and an interest in singing. Villagers would invite her to perform in rodhi, dohori and other programs. She happily obliged. Over the years, she published two albums and played small roles in Nepali tele serials but she was troubled by the fact that she did not know how to read or write. She came to Kathmandu 25 years ago, where her husband landed a job. She also looked for jobs in offices, but they said the most she was capable of was cleaning and mopping floors.&nbsp; “I faced a lot of humiliation because I could not read or write,” recalls Magar. Once, while auditioning for a role in a Nepali movie, she was handed her lines. A younger woman read them out for her so she could memorise them, but not before remarking, “Why would a person who cannot even read the lines apply?” &nbsp; She was embarrassed, and the comment damaged her confidence. She fumbled through the audition and was not surprised when she did not get the role. “Even when singing, I kept thinking that if I knew how to read, I wouldn’t have to struggle to memorise all the words, I could even write my own songs,” says Magar. “All of these life experiences taught me the importance of education.” Magar always wanted to study but growing up she never had the chance to because “education was never a priority in the village” and for her parents. Once she was married, she was too busy taking care of the household.&nbsp; Magar had given up on ever learning to read when she learnt of Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu, and made up her mind to enroll. Her husband and sons supported her decision, and she got enrolled in Grade 1.&nbsp; “I did not feel embarrassed to study with students who were younger than me, plus there were others who were similar to me in age and older learning their alphabets too,” she says.&nbsp; For nearly two years, she has been taking care of household chores and rushing to school every morning. &nbsp;This year she had to take two months off from school when her daughter-in-law gave birth but is now back in class. Now in Grade 2, Magar diligently attends school from 11am to 3pm every weekday and says she can now confidently sign her name in both English and Nepali, and use her mobile phone. She wants to study as long as she is healthy and can move around. “I am happy that I get to study at this age,” says Magar. “Women should study so that they can be financially and socially independent. When they are educated they will know the ways of the world, they won't get cheated, they can maintain their privacy and more importantly they can voice their opinion.” Shobha Thapa, 60  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553" data-rendition-name="original" width="4627" height="3084" loading="lazy" alt="Shobha Thapa"> <figcaption>Shobha Thapa, 60</figcaption> </figure>  When she was young, Shobha Thapa learned to recognise the Nepali alphabets by peeking and eavesdropping on her siblings' lessons. She never got to go to school, and once married got too busy raising children. But she made sure her children would get the best education and enrolled them in English medium schools. “The teachers would talk to me in English,” recalls Thapa. “I couldn’t understand anything but I was too embarrassed to admit it or ask what they meant.” At home, she would often feel excluded when people said she would not understand the issue because she was uneducated. “There are simply too many humiliations for me to recount now. But what they all taught me was that education is important,” says Thapa. She could not muster up the courage to tell her husband about her desire to go to school. But one day he himself brought home a newspaper featuring a story of Prerana Mahila Secondary School. She told him she wanted to enroll, and he agreed.&nbsp; Her youngest son had just come home after graduating from an engineering college, so she asked him to take her to the school for admissions. Thapa finally started school at age 50.&nbsp; “I cannot describe the feeling of happiness on that first day,” says Thapa who is now in Grade 11. “I felt that I had already achieved a lot.” Her zeal was so strong she would have her books open when she was cooking or doing laundry.&nbsp; Thapa was the top performing student till the pandemic hit. “I did not know how to use a laptop, but managed to take online classes,” says Thapa who was much happier when physical classes resumed. She says she still needs to work on her English.&nbsp; After passing her SEE exams last year, she has felt a shift in people’s attitude towards her. “People who called me hariyo kakro (why eat green cucumbers when it’s time to die) now show respect and ask me for help,” she says.&nbsp; Thapa wants to continue in her path and is proud of what she has achieved. She doesn’t hesitate to tell everyone that she is in school or encourage other women to start studying. She adds, “Education opens up the world. It is what makes us human beings and it is especially important for women because she needs to be strong to face the world.” Surya Kumari Shrestha, 67  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447" data-rendition-name="original" width="4344" height="2866" loading="lazy" alt="Surya Kumari Shrestha"> </figure>  As a child, Surya Kumari Shrestha never went to school even though there was one in her village. She did attend kindergarten, writing on slates with chalk. But she never continued in school. Later when her contemporaries went on to hold jobs and some worked as teachers, she regretted not studying, and spent most of her life thinking ‘what if’. 20 years ago, she moved to Kathmandu. In her new home, there was a telephone that her family members used often. “Everyone dialed different numbers to talk to different people and I wondered how they did that,” remembers Shrestha. “I had no idea how it worked.” Today, she comfortably uses her mobile and talks to her daughters and video calls her son in Japan. “I dial the numbers myself and call whoever I want to call,” she says. “Maybe I cannot do everything, but I can do more now than when I did not go to school.” A student of Grade 8 at Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School, for Shrestha the decision to join the school was not just to study but also for companionship.&nbsp; With her son abroad and her daughters married, Shrestha lives alone with her dog Pinki. “If I don’t come to school, I don’t have anyone to talk to. Here I have friends and I get to learn new things,” she says.&nbsp; Her children, relatives and neighbours all know that she is attending school and support her decision. On days when she is at home, her neighbours ask why she is missing class.&nbsp; Education has given her the confidence to face the world as a single woman. Recently when she was asked for her thumbprints on a document, she replied that she could sign her own name.&nbsp; Says Shrestha, “I want to sit for SEE exams and then go to college. Education has brought about many positive changes in my life.” Nirmala Chhetri, 56  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Nirmala Chhetri"> <figcaption>Nirmala Chhetri, 56</figcaption> </figure>  Nirmala Chhetri is a social activist and an entrepreneur. Over the years, she worked at various hotels, opened and operated a women’s cooperative, ran her own tailoring business and is now with the Godavari Chamber of Commerce and Industry.&nbsp; On the outside, her life looked good, but Chhetri secretly yearned to continue her education. After her high school exams, she had learned to type. Her accuracy and speed brought in an offer for a government job, but she had to turn it because her family’s disapproval.&nbsp; In 1985, she passed her SLC exams and joined Namuna Machhindra College for her IA, but she had to put her studies on hold and get married. Her home life took precedence as she brought up her children. Because she could not study to her heart’s content, she made sure all three of her children, especially her daughter went to school. Two of her children are now in Australia and her son works with Nepal Airlines. “I always wanted to continue my studies,” says Chhetri. “But when I joined the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, the men there were much more educated than me. This made me feel a bit inferior, but it also made me more determined.”&nbsp; She joined Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Grade 11 and plans to continue on to do a bachelor’s in law.&nbsp; “I feel happy. I feel proud of myself and have regained my confidence,” says Chhetri. “I now think I can do much more in life.” Chhetri's family is fully supportive, and with her children all grown up, she feels this is the time to invest in her own personal growth. &nbsp; “We women have reached this point by sacrificing a lot, so our family and children had opportunities,” says Chhetri. “Why should we give up opportunities at this point in our lives too? Women are now free, we should make the most of it.”

Sahina Shrestha

Age no bar to go to school

Ram Kumari Bhattarai, 45, made the journey to Kathmandu from Surkhet on foot, walking for almost 27 days straight. In fliflops, the soles of her feet are cracked and bruised. Bhattarai had taken a loan of Rs1.8 million, using her gold jewellery as collateral but did not keep a written receipt. Coupled with a steep interest rate of 35%, she has to now make seemingly never-ending payments to the lender. If she is not able to, the usurer harasses her through death threats, land seizures.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240308090356_4f3804d9b30a58b35b1898da3eaa03656b6b7cb07aa1cf29f7682eeef2c28d40.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240308090356_4f3804d9b30a58b35b1898da3eaa03656b6b7cb07aa1cf29f7682eeef2c28d40" data-rendition-name="original" width="1499" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loan Shark Victims "> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240308090356_ffac6b5a55622eb873e129c2d9ebb6eeb94fc50c2b51c30f816536735d31d387.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240308090356_ffac6b5a55622eb873e129c2d9ebb6eeb94fc50c2b51c30f816536735d31d387" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loan Shark Victims "> </figure>  She is adamant about staying in Kathmandu until the government intervenes to help her and others like her. In recent months, loan shark victims like Bhattarai from across the country have walked to the capital by the thousands to protest, demanding the passing of laws that will address the problems they have faced in dealing with extortionist lenders with political protection in their districts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240308090356_53b34388de4a1a28b56f2753cb0cf7e6e0513b8b3370209f7a41a85bdb062774.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240308090356_53b34388de4a1a28b56f2753cb0cf7e6e0513b8b3370209f7a41a85bdb062774" data-rendition-name="original" width="1281" height="1601" loading="lazy" alt="Loan Shark Victims "> </figure>  Victims claim that predatory money lenders have been duping them out of millions of rupees by calculating compound interests fraudulently. When the lendees cannot pay, they are subjected to mental torture and threats. With their husbands away for work, it is the women who have taken it upon themselves to find a solution to the problem, working day and night to clear their loans.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240308090356_218559decc4140e0a26bc6aad440710b2c8fbc096ff39020036c0eb09bdad287.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240308090356_218559decc4140e0a26bc6aad440710b2c8fbc096ff39020036c0eb09bdad287" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loan Shark Victims "> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240308090356_34134aa2f234b764f466f535d49ae33e062c79d1f07843a0b6ff36393c92f7ad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240308090356_34134aa2f234b764f466f535d49ae33e062c79d1f07843a0b6ff36393c92f7ad" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loan Shark Victims "> </figure>  The women, mostly from the Tarai, have literally been behind the veil, but now have undertaken journeys of uncertainty and hardship to fight for survival because they have nothing left to lose.

On Women's Day, nothing left to lose

<h2>Mana Maya Maharjan, 104</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513010_8e2792e47d30382975b9ccb19b3cb7be790572f4a09c2fe37221f17aba44f13a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024011513010_8e2792e47d30382975b9ccb19b3cb7be790572f4a09c2fe37221f17aba44f13a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="1990 Earthquake survivors NT"> <figcaption>All photos: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  Mana Maya Maharjan starts her day with an hour-long puja, chanting mantra and blessing family members. She ends the day the same way. Mana Maya’s wizened face bears testimony to a long and full life during which she has witnessed many ups and downs. But the most striking memory is still of the Great Earthquake of 1934 that killed over 8,519 people across Nepal. “It was the day after Gya Chaku Sanlu,” recalls Man Maya, who was 14 years old then. “I heard shouts from all around. The ground started shaking violently. I don’t know if I walked or fell out of the house.”&nbsp; She leaned on the wall which now is the Madan Smarak School in Pulchok. Her father was out in the fields, and he told the family later that the ground opened up and closed several times. He himself was nearly swallowed by one of these fissures. “A lot of people died, many people were trapped. Houses collapsed,” says Mana Maya, relating how her family and neighbours stayed outdoors for weeks afterwards. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/building-back-better-and-quicker">Building back better (and quicker)</a>, Shrijan Bahadur Malla  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513010_1ee5e6e6a3cae3fcc69ea3430f023352bae91d2a512aa5c2946e1217be566fce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024011513010_1ee5e6e6a3cae3fcc69ea3430f023352bae91d2a512aa5c2946e1217be566fce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="1990 Earthquake survivors"> </figure>  The Rana regime distributed money for reconstruction, but her family did not take it because they thought it was a loan and they had no way of paying it back. Seven years later at 20, she got married and had three sons and three daughters. She now has nine grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. Her oldest and youngest sons have died, while the youngest daughter is settled in the United States. Mana Maya’s husband died 46 years ago.&nbsp; She was reminded of the 1934 quake in 2015 when Kathmandu shook again. But she knew it was not as strong as the big one.&nbsp; Man Maya has had four janku, the Newa ceremony that celebrates long life because in those days most people died young. After four janku, the elderly attain the status of divinity.&nbsp; “I’ve never had to visit a hospital in my life until a few months ago,” says Mana Maya who was living by herself until four years ago, cooking and going about her daily lives. “Even the doctor told me he has never met someone who has had four jankus!” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/90-years-after-90-f2pohkih">90 years after ’90</a>, Sonia Awale <h2>Asta Maya Bajracharya, 102</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513014_b47630f85501445f567b2a3f4293a40cfa61d24e73ea6bcb3f4bc72ed695125f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024011513014_b47630f85501445f567b2a3f4293a40cfa61d24e73ea6bcb3f4bc72ed695125f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="1990 Earthwuake surviors NT"> </figure>  One month before the 1934 earthquake, people were saying they heard a lion roar. They said it was a bad omen. This is Asta Maya’s earliest memory of the 1934 earthquake. She was playing with her friends in front of her house in Patan when crows and pigeons started flying about and then the ground lifted everyone up and threw them around.&nbsp; “Soon, the houses started tumbling down all around us,” recalls Asta Maya whose little brother, mother and older sister were buried under the rubble of their house. Her father, who was a priest attending a puja ceremony, came back running, one shoe missing, when he heard the news. Asta Maya remembers even the small details. “He started digging right away with his bare hands, but it was too late for my six-year-old brother. He had no injuries we could see on him but he didn’t live,” says Asta Maya who was the youngest among the daughters. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/jajarkot-survivors-show-collective-resilience">Jajarkot survivors show collective resilience</a>, Durga Rana Magar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513014_ab3a0bb04625b9779059d5993d0cf3eb95b2308d2d62421c6678554e52566496.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024011513014_ab3a0bb04625b9779059d5993d0cf3eb95b2308d2d62421c6678554e52566496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="1990 Earthquake survivors NT"> </figure>  At 18, Asta Maya was married off and bore 13 children in all, but only seven survived to adulthood: three daughters and four sons. She lost her husband 54 years ago, but has two dozen grandchildren, one and a half dozen great-grandchildren and one great-great-grandson. She also clearly remembers the 2015 earthquake, and running to the courtyard next to Swotha, where a temple had already toppled over.&nbsp; The family all slept together in one ground floor room but Asta Maya, having lived through 1934, was not as scared.&nbsp; “I was healthy and strong until Dasain-Tihar festival this year,” quips Asta Maya who went into shock earlier this year when a 23-year-old grandson died in an accident. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/shaking-things-up">Shaking things up</a>, Editorial&nbsp; <h2>Sanu Nani Bista, 97</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513014_6e647d8ede7faac412b6b069161956722acff535ea8a40257c6d3bacfec66242.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024011513014_6e647d8ede7faac412b6b069161956722acff535ea8a40257c6d3bacfec66242" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="1990 earthquake survivors NT"> </figure>  Although she is not a Newa Sanu Nani speaks Nepal Bhasa fluently: “Ji nyara uble, boni manmaru, mhiti jakke ya,” she exclaims. “I was five then when the earthquake struck, I didn’t like studying, only liked playing.” She grew up in Dhalache near Sundhara at her mother’s Newari household. It was here she experienced the earthquake 90 years ago. “I remember lifting my trousers to run with my friends as the ground shook and the houses fell,” recalls Sanu Nani, who was seven then. Her mother was buried under the collapsed house of a neighbour, while her father was away at his job in Singha Darbar. She pleaded with soldiers to help find her mother. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state"> In a disastrous state</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513014_439151b529673ec117f2a7d6a67c76afb72b3f7d0938877d267fd07605090c39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2024011513014_439151b529673ec117f2a7d6a67c76afb72b3f7d0938877d267fd07605090c39" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="1990 earthquake survivors NT"> <figcaption>Sanu Nani with son.</figcaption> </figure>  They managed to dig enough to uncover her face and when Sanu Nani identified her, they left the rest of her family because soldiers had more people to dig out. Her mother was injured and bloodied all over, and had to be taken to the hospital but she recovered. Half of the family house was destroyed, but they managed to rebuild. One of the family members got Rs100 for reconstruction and bought 0.5 hectares in the Patan suburbs. But when the Rana regime came to collect what they borrowed, they were not able to pay back and were jailed. They were eventually let go and pardoned. Sanu Nani was married at 14 and gave birth to three sons. Her husband and the oldest son have both died. She has four grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. At 97, she is still very much active and goes to the neighbourhood Ganesh temple every day, and keeps herself busy in her garden. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-temple-restoration-after-1934-quake">Kathmandu’s temple restoration after 1934 quake</a>, Nepali Times <h2>Sukucha Mahajan, 100</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240115130116_29f6adc7a2903b03dcde3696ad904cd45ad00234cf4b2fcb5017b3746ac22ead.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20240115130116_29f6adc7a2903b03dcde3696ad904cd45ad00234cf4b2fcb5017b3746ac22ead" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="1990 earthquake survivors NT"> </figure>  “I was 10 and was visiting my mother’s maternal home,” says Sukucha of the 1934 earthquake with his eyes tightly shut. “All of a sudden we felt a shaking which got more intense and dust rose up to the sky.”&nbsp; Sukucha was a farmer all his life. He lost his wife several years ago, and because they were childless adopted a sister’s orphan “I’m the oldest but the gods have kept me alive still, I don't know why,” says soon-to-be 101-year-old Sukucha who is slender in build as his name suggests, which literally means ‘thin'. He breaks out into an old Nepali song as neighbours in their Gabahal residence this week tell us he likes his music and dance. “I used to sing and dance so much when I was younger,” adds Sukucha who now has a hard time moving even with a walking stick but does not like people helping him either. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/lessons-still-not-learnt">Lessons still not learnt</a>, Editorial  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011513018_977475471752bed298464fc4f0150891c226dd31dbbd485667e3540d379babad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2024011513018_977475471752bed298464fc4f0150891c226dd31dbbd485667e3540d379babad" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1021" loading="lazy" alt="1990 earthquake survivors NT"> </figure>  Says Sukucha’s 59-year-old nephew: “My parents died early on, he raised me when I was young and it’s like now I’m raising him. He is not an uncle to me but my father.” After the 2015 earthquake, the family of nine had spread out in the tent in the courtyard along with neighbours but Sukucha did not join them because he said he was not scared.&nbsp; Sukucha, despite his frail form, circumambulates the shrines in his courtyard. Then he has breakfast with a shot of aila, the Newa rice spirit. He takes the alcohol three times a day, but never on an empty stomach.&nbsp; He has no chronic ailments and in his last medical check-up assisted by the community, he got a clean chit once again, as he always has for he past 100 years.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake">Rebuilding Kathmandu after the 1934 quake,</a> Alina Bajracharya

Sonia Awale

Memories of the Great Earthquake

112 dead, 65 missing in Nepal floods

This late monsoon storm was not a surprise. Weather forecasts had warned of heavy precipitation a week before, the Met Office predicted heavy rain on 27-28 September, SMS warned people to take precaution, radio stations issued bulletins, and night buses were banned in 56 districts.&nbsp; The tragedy was compounded because we knew what was coming, and did not do enough to prepare. The accurate weather forecast made no real difference on the ground. When it started raining on Thursday morning and did not stop till Saturday, there was no sense of the scale of this emergency. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">More than 200 people lost their lives, dozens are still missing.</a> Thousands of homes were swept away, Nepal lost nearly half its electricity generation capacity because of damage to power plants, Kathmandu has been nearly cut off with bridges and sections of highways swept away. Yes, this was primarily a natural disaster. Kathmandu Valley and its surroundings got half the average annual precipitation in just 40 hours, the heaviest rainfall measured since records started being kept in 1972. But the high death toll was totally manmade.&nbsp; Three buses were buried by a mudslide in Dhading, killing at least 35 people. This was an eerie reminder of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/100-101-102-hh5uvzf9">Simaltal accident on 12 July </a>when two intercity buses were swept by a mudflow into the Trisuli River at night, killing 62. The buses have still not been found.&nbsp; In both cases, heavy rainfall on a poorly engineered local road up the mountains triggered the initial landslide that swept debris to the highway below. This was manslaughter, not an ‘accident’.&nbsp; We said it then, and we are saying it now: most mountain roads follow no reason or science. It is a corruption-fed activity in which local governments and their cronies plan roads ad hoc and rent their own bulldozers. Debris accumulated during construction is dumped over the edge, where monsoon rains wash them to settlements, farms and highways below. Last weekend’s disaster is a warning that accurate weather early warning is just the first step – it is not enough to prevent a huge loss of life. After the warnings, there should have been door-to-door miking along hazardous river banks urging people to move to higher ground, shelters should have been in place, rescue equipment and rafts pre-positioned, live monitoring of precipitation in the catchments. The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) was just posting situationers on social media. The Home Ministry became a Ministry of Condolences and Empty Promises.&nbsp; This disaster is a reminder of the 1993 Central Nepal cloudburst that hit the Lothar Khola in Chitwan, the Kulekhani areas, and highways blocked highways marooning Kathmandu for weeks. More than 1,300 people were killed.&nbsp; The death toll in Kathmandu this time was compounded by the fact that the city has spread into the floodplains of the Vishnumati, Manohara and other tributaries of the Bagmati. Natural waterways have been hemmed in by streets. The rivers were just reclaiming what was theirs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240930150944_1221b4fb442a21e8d2dbf1aeeca61b7a8d791c117d6a93401f15ba2a95d49a69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240930150944_1221b4fb442a21e8d2dbf1aeeca61b7a8d791c117d6a93401f15ba2a95d49a69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1949" height="1299" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal floods"> <figcaption>Kathmandu Valley, especially its southern fringes looks like an epicentre of a major quake following the rains. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Urban pressure has also forced settlements to move up the Valley’s rim, below steep hillsides with topsoil already saturated in the late monsoon. The torrential downpours caused the slopes to fail. The damage to Upper Tamakosi and dozens of other hydropower plants also is a warning not to put all our eggs in one basket. The Sikkim disaster exactly this time last year was proof that these are at high risk from glacial lake floods and landslide dammed rivers suddenly bursting. More logical would be to build smaller, better designed, plants on many rivers. The Himalaya is also the youngest and most fragile mountain range on earth, Nepal has always had either too much or too little water, and climate breakdown is making this contrast more extreme. Combined, this means we in Nepal live in a multi-disaster prone country with seismic, hydrological and climate risks.&nbsp; After multiple floods in early 1990s, a Japanese grant helped set up the Disaster Prevention Technical Centre (DPTC) in Pulchowk, which was later renamed the Department of Water Induced Disaster Management. We have not heard much from them lately. With the government AWOL, it is ordinary Nepalis who have shown extraordinary courage in saving those being swept by flood water, rescuing babies on canoes (pictured), or digging for passengers trapped in buses buried by landslides. The Nepal Army and the Police rescued thousands, but there was an absence of coordination.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240930150944_cb55edb93eb3aad169b22bc4dec06b5478746fbe75417c628bf671ec698f7912.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240930150944_cb55edb93eb3aad169b22bc4dec06b5478746fbe75417c628bf671ec698f7912" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal floods"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Now, the attention must focus on urgent relief and rehabilitation. But that might be a tall ask just before everything shuts down for Dasain, and when governance fails, lack of accountability and transparency is the norm even without holidays.&nbsp; Sonia Awale

When it rains it pours

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

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