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

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The healing power of music

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

Life and times of Nepal Government Railway

Remember their names

This is the first instalment in a new limited series in Nepali Times on the historic transportation infrastructures of Nepal. Nepal’s Forest Railways As<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-border-trains-that-connected-nepal"> India’s railway network </a>expanded in the 1890s and 1900s, the demand for wooden railway sleepers, called ‘ties’ in America, likewise increased. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-rana-reign-a-recap-of-history,3751">Rana regime</a> realised that western Nepal’s dense forests, from which sal trees could be extracted and sold, represented a valuable source of revenue. There was a problem of accessing large tracts of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">Tarai forests</a>. However, once Indian railway lines are extended to Nepal’s border in several places, this issue could be resolved by constructing logging railways, also known as ‘tramways’ or ‘light railways’. The Nepal Government awarded a contract to Punjabi timber contractors to supply 15,000 sal sleepers to Chandan Chauki station of India’s Oudh &amp; Rohilkhand State Railway in 1908. The contractors also received a concession to construct a steam tramway to run 48km into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">Nepal’s forests</a> for cutting and transporting trees. The author found no records, however, indicating that such an ambitious tramway was built in 1908. The hewn logs were probably carried into India by bullock carts or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elephants-become-white-elephants">elephants</a>. The earliest known forest railway in Nepal was built in 1914 in the southwestern corner of the present-day Parsa district. A British engineer went to the Indian border town of Bikna Thori to plan a 4-mile portable light railway for the transport of timber from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-the-tri-junction-of-wildlife-conservation-conflict-and-co-existence">the forest of Chitwan </a>to the Thori depot on the Bengal &amp; Northwestern Railway. This short line was laid upon wooden sleepers, and its rails could be taken up and repositioned when logging in one section of the forest was completed. This forest railway was in operation at least through 1917.&nbsp; A few year down the line in 1923, J V Collier of the Indian Forest Service built a narrow-gauge railway in Kailali district also to export of timber to India. This line, the Nepal Government Forest Railway, departed Chandan Chauki in Uttar Pradesh and ran 48km northwest into Nepal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250824150820_84ddef57433c2f847b2c7e56c2d9c924084b6e6a504bbca905d2c593fac8eabd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250824150820_84ddef57433c2f847b2c7e56c2d9c924084b6e6a504bbca905d2c593fac8eabd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1130" height="689" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's little railways"> <figcaption>A Nepal Government Forest train in Kailali District hauling sal sleepers in 1925. Photo: DAVID CHURCHILL </figcaption> </figure>  It was a 2-foot railway supported by 11kg rails. The line was ‘temporary’ in that as sal trees were thinned out in one area, railway tracks were shifted to uncut areas of the forest. The railway crossed seven small <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">rivers</a>, but the bridges were taken down during the summer and monsoon. Trains ran only from November to April. This forest railway purchased four 4-6-0T ‘tank’ engines built in Leeds, England. Each bogie could carry 100 broad-gauge sleepers, and two engines were needed to haul a 21-car train loaded with 2,100 sleepers. This huge commercial forest operation once employed about 14,000 men, most of them Indians. During one season, nearly 800,000 broad and metre-gauge sleepers were exported to India. When India suffered a depression in 1930, large scale operations came to an end. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rust-in-peace?fbclid=IwAR1_eg88TCOS6RGRW1af7WvaWx5mzh_rY8-vT1MnJxSs41QtCpaA988oXk8">Rust in peace</a>, Daniel W Edwards  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250824150828_13a0b894b9ea0c478904d358028f0c976d84f284432ee25106787366598d38e5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250824150828_13a0b894b9ea0c478904d358028f0c976d84f284432ee25106787366598d38e5" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's railways"> <figcaption>Rails extended north from this spot into the virgin sal forests of Bardia in western Nepal 100 years ago.  DANIEL W EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  A third railway was built in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-big-bulls-of-bardia">Bardia </a>where some scattered rails and signs of an old roadbed were seen in the 1960s. It ran from Nishangada in India to Khairbhatti in Nepal. From there, stations heading south were Ranipur, Karmak, Taratal and Madhuwan. Collier likely <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-train-project-struggles-to-stay-on-track">built this railway </a>as well in the 1920s. An elderly man in Bardia in 2022, whose father had worked on this forest railway, was interviewed for this account. Kathmandu Valley’s Motor (Trolley) Railway Merchants importing goods from India via the<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/ropeways-connecting-nepal,1749"> ropeway</a> Chandra Shamsher built in 1927 had to go to the ropeway’s terminus at Matatirtha near Thankot to claim their goods and then haul them 6km to the customs house Bhansar Adda at Teku for clearance and payment of customs duties. The Motor Railway was built to carry goods from the<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16839"> ropeway station </a>directly to the customs office, making it cheaper and more convenient for merchants to receive their shipments. In December 1931, Prime Minister Bhim Shamsher issued an order (sanad) putting Lt Gen Singha Shamsher Rana in charge of building this rail line to Teku and on to ‘Nabalak Khana’ in Tripureswar, a distance of 10km. The project was subdivided into four sections or ‘phant’, and for each, budgets and timelines were established. There was bato phant (constructing the roadbed), lik sleeper and jordne phant (laying sleepers and joining the rails), culvert phant (installing culverts) and pul phant (building bridges). Colonel Kishore Narsingh Rana was put in charge of the sleeper and rail section, while Colonel Dilli Jung Thapa, an engineer at Ghar Kaj Adda, also was involved. The Motor Railway was completed by the end of 1933. In the beginning, the railway’s small wagons may have been pulled and pushed by men and bullocks. However, in 1938 a British railway manufacturer sent Nepal a four-wheel, 5½ ton, 2-foot narrow-gauge diesel-powered locomotive with mechanical transmission, hence the name motor railway. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-railways-janakpur-test-drive?fb_comment_id=3554227181262227_4263866616964943">Nepal Railways Janakpur test drive</a> Leaving Matatirtha, the trains passed Satungal, Naikap, the Bishnudevi Temple, crossed an iron bridge over Balkhu Khola, then to Ghattepakha, Sunagau, through what is now a section of Kuleshwor (‘Lik Marg’) to the Customs Office at Teku.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250825020852_033f0cee9775d7dadde7811132f84da876f614c386e3677e560ba7aed79909d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250825020852_033f0cee9775d7dadde7811132f84da876f614c386e3677e560ba7aed79909d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="railways in Nepal"> <figcaption>Lik Marg in Kuleswor, the former route of the Motor Trolley Railway. Photo: DANIEL W EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  In 1945, Motor Trolley had four engines, but spare parts was badly needed. The charge for transporting one maund (about 40kg) of cargo from Matatirtha to Teku was 50 paisa. Even though the trains ran slowly and only for a short distance, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/fatalism-and-fatalities">accidents were not unknown</a>. A train loaded with rice, salt and cotton derailed on a curve in July 1946, and two railway employees were crushed under the cars and killed, five others were injured. Besides the driver and a brakeman, guards rode the trains to prevent theft of goods.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250824150836_63a327d4db3b067a23dd5c6cf17a31ffe811ffd4a8429bc31011d62298a90060.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250824150836_63a327d4db3b067a23dd5c6cf17a31ffe811ffd4a8429bc31011d62298a90060" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's railways"> <figcaption>The author by the remains of the Balkhu Khola bridge built in 1932 with American steel. Photo: JEEVAN NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  By 1953, government budget estimates indicated the Motor Railway would break even with an income of Rs70,000 against Rs71,000 in expenditure. It appears the railway stopped service around 1957 with the opening of the Raj Path and the extension of the ropeway from Matatirtha to Bhansar Adda. Bent steel beams of the bridge across Balkhu Khola and two plaques recovered from the river a few years ago are the only remains of this railway today. Photos of the Motor Trolley Railway in operation are hard to come by.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250825020848_3a7cd17d0ffc36bbf5fdad404f5f6e91c7aa0e4f4ed729ed2c7e9c186f32ca9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20250825020848_3a7cd17d0ffc36bbf5fdad404f5f6e91c7aa0e4f4ed729ed2c7e9c186f32ca9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="5189" height="1979" loading="lazy" alt="railways in Nepal"> <figcaption>Steel plaque commemorating the construction of a Motor Trolley bridge across the Balkhu Khola. Photo: DANIEL W EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  The Kosi Project Railway (KPR) As early as 1941, India and Nepal considered building a dam on<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-kosi-s-sorrow-and-scope"> the Kosi River</a> to prevent destructive floods caused by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">monsoon rains</a>. Floods in 1950 inundated 500 villages in Bihar and left 500,000 people homeless. The two governments signed an agreement in 1954 to build a barrage on the Kosi, and King Mahendra and Prime Minister Nehru laid the foundation stone in April 1959. To transport stones from a quarry near Dharan to use in mixing concrete at the construction site, the Indian government, in charge of building the barrage, made plans to build a narrow-gauge railway linking Bihar and its border town of Bhimnagar with Nepal’s settlements at Chakraghatti, Chatra and Ghopa, the outskirts of Dharan.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250824150816_fc5e13b01022c63c64f1e83589da0015eee7ecd002bdd3d97b88c98c1f3d45b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="20250824150816_fc5e13b01022c63c64f1e83589da0015eee7ecd002bdd3d97b88c98c1f3d45b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4011" height="2645" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's railways"> <figcaption>Steel plaque commemorating the construction of a Motor Trolley bridge across the Balkhu Khola. Photo: DANIEL W EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  The section of the KPR in Nepal totaled 66km — the country’s longest railway to date. The stations south of Chakraghatti were Rajabas, Maduhuwan, Kushaha, Haripur and Bhantabari. The line built, operated and owned by the Indian Government, was opened in 1958 and known locally as Dhunge (stone) Rail. Procuring locomotives, wagons and other materials was a challenge. India’s Railway Board searched the country for old 41 lb rails, and located steam engines, most built around 1910, in poor condition, and stored in ‘retirement’. These decrepit locomotives were later cannibalised for parts to keep the remaining engines running, and six newer locomotives built in Yugoslavia were sent to the KPR in 1960 to prevent the railway from shutting down and halting construction of the barrage.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250824150832_fd644f9e2674c5047a531de5dfeb2c8860b0f93dddc7a2df3db867bf31b2c94b.bmp" data-media-id="editor_22" data-image-id="20250824150832_fd644f9e2674c5047a531de5dfeb2c8860b0f93dddc7a2df3db867bf31b2c94b" data-rendition-name="original" width="3171" height="2069" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's railways"> <figcaption>KPR locomotives, water tank and staff at Chakraghatti in Nepal. Photo: JOHN BENSON</figcaption> </figure>  Used bogie-wagons (gondolas) came from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-nepal-rail-diplomacy">Indian railways</a> that had been converted to metre-gauge, others were manufactured in Muzaffarpur without couplers due to the non-availability of steel. A hundred new wagons arrived from Japan, but only half could be put in service, as couplers from the other 50 were removed and attached to the Muzaffarpur wagons. This smorgasbord of equipment kept shop mechanics and work crews busy, but now-abandoned railways in Nepal always operated under less-than-ideal conditions. Although the purpose of the KPR was to transport gravel, stones and boulders to the site of the barrage, photographs show people riding in loaded wagons. Excluding Dharan, there was no bus service through the wild animal infested jungle between Dharan and Chakraghatti or along the dusty paths linking other small villages on the KPR, so patient locals sat in wagons at Dharan, waiting perhaps for hours for trains to depart.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250825020852_7d011dcc8e9b8cb0fe745b352486ebc4a84dac99419eadb35875333db20837c6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_24" data-image-id="20250825020852_7d011dcc8e9b8cb0fe745b352486ebc4a84dac99419eadb35875333db20837c6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3965" height="2659" loading="lazy" alt="railways in Nepal"> <figcaption>Ticketless riders on a train of gravel and stones in the forest between Dharan and Chakragatti in 1966. Photo: JOHN BENSON</figcaption> </figure>  Sons of former railway workers in Chakraghatti say that there were no fixed schedules, three or four trains ran both ways daily in the early 1960s. Southbound trains carried gravel, stones and boulders, while northbound trains would carry coal, cement and provisions, including sacks of coins to pay the workers. Trains even ran at night, and the crews worked long hours. Workers received free housing in project-built tenements but had to buy food supplies and items for personal use. The Babu Saheb or the superintendent lived at Chakraghatti, and at one time supervised more than 1,000 employees, nearly all of them from India. The barrage was completed in 1964, but by 1970, the Kosi Project Railway had passed into history. Daniel W Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal.

Nepal’s five little railways

One night last week, Asabir Tamang was awoken from his sleep by the grumble of the nearby Trisuli river. He alerted his family and neighbours in the village of Khalte, and in the dark they scrambled up the slope to safety as the waters rose. It had been pouring all night, and the villagers thought it was a replay of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">the 8 July flash-flood on the Bhote Kosi</a> that killed 12 people, washed away a vital trade bridge connecting Nepal and China as well as a dry port with electric cars, damaged four hydropower plants and an electric substation. The Chinese had warned the authorities in Nepal of another flood, and the Uttargaya Municipality was on high alert. Both floods are believed to have been triggered when <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mapping-kangchenjunga-glacial-flood-risk">supra-glacial lakes</a> in the catchment of the Lengde River in Tibet overflowed due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-climate-crisis-is-a-water-crisis-in-the-himalaya">global warming</a>. The flood on 28 July was not as destructive as the earlier one, but Tamang’s family climbed to safer ground just in time before the flood swept away his tin-roof hut and those of his neighbours last week.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250807090848_f573652291798dad5aba2b9db23b82e2bebc30ca21321371735674018554f925.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250807090848_f573652291798dad5aba2b9db23b82e2bebc30ca21321371735674018554f925" data-rendition-name="original" width="2222" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="From one disaster to the next NT"> <figcaption>NEITHER HERE NOR THERE: Survivors of the 2015 earthquake in Mailung, Tiru and Gogane, were resettled in Khalte on the low-lying banks of Trisuli, but have suffered two damaging floods in July (left) caused by climate breakdown. All photos: SABINA DEVKOTA</figcaption> </figure>  Fifty-eight year old Tamang, his family and 276 other households relocated themselves to the river-side settlement of Khalte after<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/building-back-not-better-after-2015-kxble6c6"> the 2015 earthquake </a>destroyed their villages Mailung, Tiru and Gogane up in the mountains.&nbsp; According to the locals, they intially took temporary refuge in Satbise along with other displaced families from Haku. They stayed in an open area provided by the municipality chairman for five months. Later, they rented a place in Naubise for 27 thousand per month, only to be evicted by the landowner after seven months. Eventually, they settled on the public land in Khate where they continue to live today. Tamang himself lost nine members of his family in Mailung, including his wife, five grandsons and three granddaughters. Repeated <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/seismological-Centre-2015-earthquake,2230">aftershocks</a> triggered rockfalls, and it was too dangerous to go back to rebuild homes in their ancestral village. But while relocating to a new place that would be safe from a seismic disaster, the inhabitants of Khalte have become victims of recurring climate calamities.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250807090852_24b0bab16ce2fdd5dc1c64a91d869e16bfec1130d880eb376faf4dffa6ac58ba.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250807090852_24b0bab16ce2fdd5dc1c64a91d869e16bfec1130d880eb376faf4dffa6ac58ba" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="From one disaster to the next"> <figcaption>(Clockwise) Asabir Tamang, Sukmaya Ghale, Norsing Tamang, and Sanchamaya Ghale</figcaption> </figure>  “We left the place we were born in, and have been living in fear for the past ten years,” Tamang told us, surveying what used to be home for 17 members of his extended family in Khalte. “But it is just as dangerous here.” The 2015 earthquake not only displaced, but also divided families. Sanchamaya Ghale, 40, still lives with her husband in her home village of Tiru which was devastated in 2015, while her children are with relatives in Khalte because their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/patan-school-built-back-better">school was destroyed in the quake</a>. Sarita Tamang, 40, is from Gogane, the other village that was destroyed in the earthquake. She and her husband decided to stay back to tend the family farm, while her five children are in Khalte for studies. Meanwhile, Mingma Tamang took a risk to rebuild his family home in Gogane for Rs1 million. He says, “I spent everything I had earned in Malaysia before the earthquake to rebuild the house.” Tamang lives with the grief of losing his youngest daughter and son who were crushed in their home in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviewing-lessons-of-the-2015-nepal-earthquake">2015 disaster</a>. A 2021 research in Gogane and Tiru shows that the earthquake did not just destroy homes, but the traditional community bonds of the Tamang community which provides support in time of need. With families divided and split into groups, that collective spirit of self-help is lacking, and this has also led to socio-psychological distress. Glan Bahadur Tamang, 60, also moved down to Khalte because it is too traumatic to go back to his ancestral village of Gogane. He does hike up occasionally to sow millet and maize, but does not linger there. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unseen-wounds-of-climate-disasters">The unseen wounds of climate disasters</a>, Anek Rajbhandari Even before last month’s floods destroyed their sheds, the highlanders found Khalte too hot and many who were moved here fell sick to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16988#.XnMUhagzbSF">water-borne diseases </a>and other infections. Today, the villagers only gather in their ancestral homes at funerals of their relatives and friends because their ancestral burial grounds are near the villages that the earthquake forced them to abandon.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025080710080_6805bc25bc91eb7cedbbdc585ae52deec5cf67f41105901627a71794de7dddef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2025080710080_6805bc25bc91eb7cedbbdc585ae52deec5cf67f41105901627a71794de7dddef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1486" height="1352" loading="lazy" alt="From one disaster to the next"> </figure>  For many villagers like Sukumaya Ghale, 57, the idea of going back up to Tiru, Gogane or Mailung is fraught with fear. But Khalte offers no real safety, either.&nbsp; “The river can take everything at any time,” says Lalmaya Tamang, 29, recalling the fear that gripped the resettled families on 8 and 28 July.&nbsp; There have been efforts to lure the families back to their villages in the mountains from the heat and danger of living in the deep valley of an unpredictable river. In 2020, the Hong Kong-based Kadoorie Foundation, in coordination with the then National Reconstruction Authority built an integrated settlement of 119 houses in Tiru for 152 beneficiaries.&nbsp; However, disputes over fair allocation halted the distribution of new homes. They are all locked and vacant, and some are being used for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/be-kind-to-buffaloes?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR1jWdEuifITwezF3twa8iMAHlbFRifK8hdt70jG44Ty7O8AgAZbfK8mp8I_aem_AaofDjDS71K5FWxwfN9qp9F0GjG6xapjL1QIf_69QspE2lglwHdqvGXHY8PFxdJESkauMyr47dSVBiq6OnonU9k9">livestock</a>. “We could have considered moving, but there are no basic facilities like toilets and water taps,” says Norsing Tamang, 58, pointing at a row of empty houses in Tiru. The Dhading District Level Project Implementation Unit actually bought the land to build the homes for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/memories-of-the-great-earthquake">survivors of the earthquake</a>, but it was not enough for everyone. Says Bam Bahadur, Tamang former chair of Ward 1 of Uttargaya.&nbsp; “We didn’t know how to decide who gets what,” he says, “there was no option for further land acquisition.” The government did acquire additional land in Pahirebesi in 2021 to resettle 125 survivor families, but that also turned out to be sufficient for only 103, halting distribution once again.&nbsp; Another land plot purchased in Shantibazar in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/kathmandu-s-waste-is-making-nuwakot-sick">Nuwakot</a>, by the then Dhading-DLPIU for 24 displaced people, also became unviable when a 200KV high-tension line from the Upper Trishuli hydropower project was routed through it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250807090852_95c11b2d364f37d3f6be99008a8c7f0d64f51df6eaf796ab1ac8fe56131f770b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250807090852_95c11b2d364f37d3f6be99008a8c7f0d64f51df6eaf796ab1ac8fe56131f770b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2222" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="From one disaster to the next"> <figcaption>The government developed integrated resettlement of 119 houses for the villagers in Tiru, but they lie empty due to a lack of basic facilities.</figcaption> </figure>  The government’s resettlement plans all look good on paper, but here on the ground there are many stories of well-meaning but failed attempts. This year the Ministry of Urban Development has allocated Rs70 million to acquire land for the 86 remaining displaced people in Khalte. But residents are unhappy because there are still not enough housing and the elderly refuse to move into the buildings because they lack basic <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/do-not-fail-students-in-wash">water and hygiene facilities</a>.&nbsp; Experts criticise the one-size-fits-all approach of government and charities. “Integrated settlements post-earthquake have become failures,” says Associate Professor of Rural Development Department, Tribhuvan University, Ratnamani Nepal. “Just building a 2-room house is not a shelter. Livelihoods, access to water, education, and roads, all should be part of the plan.” Elsewhere in Barpak and other integrated <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/moving-after-shaking,3792">re-settlement in Sindhupalchok</a> the government has overlooked the community needs, cultural sentiments and social networks in the name of construction of integrated settlement.&nbsp; ‘A settlement is a cultural and social space, without it there is no sense of community,’ explains Nepal. A 2021 research published in ScienceDirect Journal, referring to Khalte, Tiru and Pahirebesi settlements recommends that resettlement and relocation should be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/participating-to-save-kangchenjunga">community-driven </a>reflecting the priorities of affected people.&nbsp; The World Ban’s Safer Homes, Stronger Communities: A Handbook for reconstructing after Natural Disasters notes why relocation after disasters often does not succeed, identifying key problems such as poor site selection, culturally insensitive designs, lack of community input, distance from jobs and network and insufficient funding. According to the Central Level Project Implementation Unit, post-quake 97 integrated resettlements have been completed and 6 are still under construction in Nepal. The need for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-to-build-back-better">proper housing</a> is far greater than relocation. Chegu lama, 40, still lives in Khalte, and dissuades people from moving there. “There are no basic amenities: &nbsp;no road, no hospital and no school. We go back and forth to keep up with culture and survival.” But not everyone agrees. Chiring Tamang, 65 and Yangchen Tamang, 60, make occasional visits from Tiru to Khalte to meet their four sons and daughter-in-laws insist: “They are scared to live here, but at this (old) age we won’t abandon our ancestral home.”

From one disaster to the next

For someone who is considered a pioneer of abstract expressionism in Nepal, Kiran Manandhar is abstract about his craft. At age 68, Manandhar does not see the need to explain himself, or his art. His bold and vibrant brush strokes on canvas capture movement in the temporal and spatial planes. “I still do not understand what is abstract, there is no way to define it,” Manandhar told us while showing us around his exhibition. “Sometimes, even before I decide what I am about to create, a drop of colour hits the canvas. That’s the beginning of a dialogue.”&nbsp; The ongoing exhibitions are bursting with the products of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/art-for-arts-sake">Manandhar’s lively palette and wide imaginings</a>. The visuals are quick to grab the visitor’s attention, but the emotional depth lingers longer.&nbsp; In his series, Women, what initially look like distorted, animalesque forms reveal themselves to be powerful abstractions of the essence of womanhood. It is all there: strength and vulnerability, nurturing and rebellion, solidarity and sorrow, compassion and love.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250807090820_0152fa0ff18278c9bdec0710052244332deb3b4eaf030071df4eeab890610776.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250807090820_0152fa0ff18278c9bdec0710052244332deb3b4eaf030071df4eeab890610776" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kiran Manandhar"> </figure>  The works portray the patriarchy, and how Nepali women have become each other’s pillars. The <a href="about:blank">complexities of womanhood </a>are often best understood only by women themselves, but Manandhar seems to have the heart, mind and eyes to explore them artistically. Several pieces from the Women series and Manandhar’s other artworks, are currently on display across Kathmandu Valley in the <a href="https://mona.com.np/">Museum of Nepali Art</a>, <a href="https://kathmanduarthouse.com/">Kathmandu Art House</a>, Kathmandu Guest House and Patan Museum. The exhibitions honour the maestro’s five decades of artistic exploration and features not just his iconic works, but also represent a timeline of his life journey. As a child, Manandhar used to accompany his mother to the Bishnumati River, which at the time was clean and wide. During her evening puja, he would watch the flicker of votive lamps as they floated down the dark waters. &nbsp; Later, he sculpted sand figurines on the banks or rendered flowers in watercolour. Painting soon became a passion, but the young Manandhar was a rebel: rigid schools never held his interest and he preferred to roam by the river. Growing up without a job, he survived on little, searching for free meals outside mosques, and spent hours fishing and observing life unfold around him.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250807090816_774263f821feba7a3353ac2959d24d7e2e306a00f91ccf3a9f34cfedb33cac51.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250807090816_774263f821feba7a3353ac2959d24d7e2e306a00f91ccf3a9f34cfedb33cac51" data-rendition-name="original" width="1499" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kiran Manandhar"> </figure>  He ended up in Varanasi. He remembers sleeping on railway platforms, eating leftovers from garbage piles and being beaten and chased away by the police. Yet, in letters home, he wrote that he was staying in hotels and dining lavishly.&nbsp; “No one rises easily in art. There’s always struggle, pain, and relentless effort,” he reflects. “Almost every artist has had to fight their way up.” Eventually, he enrolled in Banaras Hindu University and &nbsp;earned both a BFA and an MFA in painting. As he came to his own, Manandhar began exploring the broader Nepali art scene and travelled to France, Germany, and Japan for art programs and residencies.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250807090820_c19ed015bc1ba7f1fb90c329c7fb45d60066288631631f9ed472c14a0d5ebd2a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250807090820_c19ed015bc1ba7f1fb90c329c7fb45d60066288631631f9ed472c14a0d5ebd2a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kiran Manandhar"> </figure>  Along the way, he imbibed influences of contemporary movements in art but was mostly drawn by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Manandhar-fourth-exhibit-Nepal,2641">expressionism</a> in a cubist style — but infusing it with influences of his Nepali roots. Manandhar has plenty of heartfelt advice for younger artists: “One reason art hasn’t progressed as much as it could is that we often dismiss young people and their potential. Wisdom is hoarded instead of shared. But these learnings must be passed down.” Which is exactly what he seems to be doing with his multiple exhibitions around the Valley. TUG-O-WAR Manandhar describes his creative process as a playground with three players: colours, canvas, and himself. From that moment, the painting unfolds on its own terms. He begins to see possibilities and builds upon them, even as he is caught in a constant, dynamic tug-of-war. What emerges from this push and pull are masterpieces. “As soon as I see colours or even think of painting, I’m completely consumed by it. My only fear is: what if one day there are no more colours? What if one day I cannot paint anymore?” His Aatma Series takes us on a spiritual journey. The aatma (soul) transports visitors somewhere beyond the visible to unknown terrain. In Aatma IV, we are pulled into a hypnotic spiral, falling into Manandhar’s own Bermuda triangle of emotions and abstraction.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250809060824_1bfea0c248ecca3d8543f7e9e77b71eb756be4b9aab65f46ed197561ea3edc50.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250809060824_1bfea0c248ecca3d8543f7e9e77b71eb756be4b9aab65f46ed197561ea3edc50" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="6000" loading="lazy" alt="KIRAN MANANDHAR"> <figcaption>Aatma IV</figcaption> </figure>  His Ganesha paintings take a more serene approach with soft curves and muted tones that emanate wisdom. In contrast, the Bhairava radiates the raw ritualistic energy of a mask dance. Both are deeply rooted in Nepali tradition, yet boldly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/painting-a-painter">contemporary in expression</a>. Then there are the Self-Reflection and Untitled works perhaps intentionally open-ended. Viewers will find human forms, birds, fleeting figures, and swirling emotions scattered across canvases and lokta paper with acrylic, oil pastels, charcoal, and mixed media.&nbsp; Even by Kiran Manandhar’s standards this is as abstract as art can get. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; KIRAN Till 18 September&nbsp; 10am-6pm Museum of Nepali Art Kathmandu Art House&nbsp; Kathmandu Guest House&nbsp; Patan Museum

Kiran Manandhar in the abstract

25 years of journalism

Sagar Tamang first met Laxmi Tamang in video calls between Malaysia and Pokhara. He was working as a security guard in Malaysia, and had sent her a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/facebook-nation">Facebook </a>request. Before long, between messages and calls, they were in love and planning a future together. Laxmi could see it clearly: after six years Sagar would <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">return home</a> to Sankuwasabha, they would get married and have children, live in the home that Sagar had built, and she would open up her tailoring shop with Sagar’s savings from abroad. But Sagar revealed that he was experiencing shortness of breath and his legs had begun to swell. She pleaded with him to come back, but he would only return after his roadside property back home was built. Sagar’s parents had already built a new house with his income and were planning another nearby. The symptoms worsened over time, prompting Sagar to eventually consult a doctor. Both his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/A-mysterious-rash-of-kidney-failures,3639">kidneys had completely failed</a>. A seemingly healthy, energetic 28-year-old suddenly turned into a dialysis patient. Sagar lived with his mother, father, five sisters and four brothers in Sankuwasabha, and the family depended entirely on a piece of land they farmed. An older brother left home to seek work elsewhere but that was not enough. So, after just finishing Grade 10 Sagar decided on an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">overseas job</a>. He arrived <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-malaysia-nepal-migrant-scam-nexus">in Malaysia</a> at just 20, saddled with loans, and an immense pressure to raise the economic status of his family. But upon arrival, he found that he would be working in agriculture, not as a security guard as per his contract. Toiling for 11 hours in the sun every day, he felt worn down and disillusioned with the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/push-factors-driving-nepalis-out?fbclid=IwAR0Og_Lv1SMmn69MAkgqu1Ywu8IoLuB_v9KpnjG2F8PR-OAOCDvL6kLoKlk_aem_AX_Vm0Bo8vLUzR_RAr8GpJ8dDX53u8v0zPMP1GzR590UiMfz5jHkg7k14WF5cAQOHwY"> promise of life abroad</a>. His living situation, made up of a tightly regulated, crowded compound with other migrant workers, was no better. Only when he heard the distorted voice of his mother through his flip phone did Sagar find a sense of solace. Over the next two years, Sagar developed friendships with other Nepalis working with him, and eventually accepted that his life abroad was nearly permanent. He planned to stay aboard at least 10 years. And after writing a letter to his company, he was able to successfully switch to security guard work. Although the hours were longer, it beat the difficult manual labour Sagar was previously forced to complete for a meagre salary. Sagar fell into a routine he thought he would follow for the next eight years: get ready, go to work, return to the compound, and call Laxmi before going to sleep. But two years ago, his health reached a breaking point, and he had to return to Nepal for dialysis. Upon his arrival, he was rushed to Bir Hospital for immediate treatment. To this day, Sagar has never stepped foot inside the houses his family built with his overseas earnings. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating"> Dirty, Dangerous, Difficult ... and Dehydrating</a>, Pinki Sris Rana <h2>Dialectics of dialysis</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051509054_5b8972cf42e1d1ae531b7d32c0492380964f065432a8dd0a7e41674b7160b266.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025051509054_5b8972cf42e1d1ae531b7d32c0492380964f065432a8dd0a7e41674b7160b266" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dying to work overseas NT"><figcaption>HARD LABOUR: Sagar Tamang in a dialysis session at the National Kidney Centre in Kathmandu (right) after both his kidneys failed while working abroad in harsh conditions.</figcaption></figure>  It is estimated that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating" target="_blank">one in four </a>Nepali kidney patients is a returnee migrant. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/A-mysterious-rash-of-kidney-failures,3639" target="_blank">Factors </a>such as excessive heat, dehydration, and unhealthy diets can lead to chronic kidney disease, including kidney failure. Many returnees head straight to a dialysis bed in Kathmandu instead of taking the first bus home. In dialysis wards across the country, scores of young men under 40 sit in hospital beds, unable to work or earn for their families anymore. Many remain in debt for treatment, or have had to relocate to seek care. For patients with no source of reliable income, even finding a willing landlord to rent out a room in the capital can be almost impossible without the right connections. However, Sagar’s cousin, who had also developed chronic kidney disease while working abroad and had moved to Kathmandu from Sankhuwasaba for dialysis, took him in. Laxmi finally met Sagar two months later. She found it hard to hold back tears whenever she saw his face. She was able to stay with her brother in Bhaktapur for some time, but eventually the couple decided to marry. Laxmi’s mother and sisters urged her to put off the marriage until Sagar had completed a kidney transplant. The couple eloped. Two days after their marriage, Laxmi’s family called them to come to their home in Nagarkot to celebrate. Now, the couple lives in a rented house near the National Kidney Centre with other dialysis patients and their families. Sagar walks to his dialysis session three times a week. In this house, there is a sense of solidarity among patients, and Laxmi especially feels a comfort knowing that her neighbours understand her position as the wife and caretaker of a dialysis patient. Members of the house cook for each other, help with transport to the hospital, and sometimes even <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-disaster-strikes-home">lend money</a>. So far, Sagar has used his savings from abroad to pay for the direct and indirect costs of his treatment. However, the money is running out as the couple grapples with the city’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal?fb_comment_id=3363039693768713_5667191770020149">cost of living and medical bills</a>. The government offers free lifetime haemodialysis for patients, but the Rs5,000 monthly allowance does not come consistently, in full, or just never comes at all despite repeated requests to the patient’s municipal office. Those receiving treatment in the Kathmandu Valley also access medicine through Bhaktapur’s Shahid Dharmabhakta National Transplant Centre (SDNTC), but under the hospital’s insurance are required to pay for 10% of the cost.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051509058_2001d2b6d07ca8406575bd1c89f714b5b224d64bf25437b55bda0e21475fdbc4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2025051509058_2001d2b6d07ca8406575bd1c89f714b5b224d64bf25437b55bda0e21475fdbc4" data-rendition-name="original" width="2773" height="4160" loading="lazy" alt="Dying to work overseas"><figcaption>Sagar with his wife Laxmi in Pokhara.</figcaption></figure>  Once his family’s primary earner, Sagar can no longer make or send money due to his condition. His family runs a goat and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/are-you-sick-of-chicken">poultry farm</a>, but has been forced to take loans to stay afloat and cannot send money for Sagar’s treatment. Until recently, Laxmi worked 12 hours a day as a tailor and house cleaner. Sagar, his mother and Laxmi, have been making trips to SDNTC in preparation for his transplant. In Nepal, only relatives or the spouse of the patient are allowed to be donors for their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">kidney transplant</a>. This can be debilitating for patients whose families are unwilling or unable to donate due to pre-existing health issues such as hypertension or diabetes. Wives and mothers are the most likely demographic to donate to a male patient. Due to Sagar’s inability to come home and officiate his marriage it is yet to be recognised by the municipality, making Laxmi an ineligible donor. After finding out his father’s blood type did not match and refusing his younger sister’s offer to give her kidney, he and his mother decided that they could start the transplant process together. Even Nepal’s prime minister K P Oli has had a double kidney transplant, but for those who cannot find a donor within the family, the remaining years of life is measured by the humming and erratic beeps of a dialysis machine three times a week. It is going to be a lengthy and expensive process, but it is the only hope for Sagar. And what are his immediate plans after a successful transplant? To return home, to finally see his siblings, father, neighbours and friends, he tells us. He has seen his father once since his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">return to Nepal</a>, but has not seen his siblings since he left for Malaysia. They have not visited him in Kathmandu yet, but he hopes that they will before his transplant. The couple believes that after his transplant, anything is possible: finally getting their marriage recognised, opening up a tailoring shop, having children, building a life in Sankuwashaba. Laxmi strongly objects to Sagar ever leaving Nepal again, but he remains open to the idea.

Dying to work overseas

A plate of momo filled with spiced meat served with an achar or jhol is often the go-to order after flipping through the multi page menus at Kathmandu’s eateries.&nbsp; In many ways Momo is the perfect meal: ubiquitous, affordable, quick, filling, fresh, and healthier than other fast food. &nbsp; Making the dumplings from scratch is fun, too. Momo parties require much labour but they bring families and friends together as each member takes responsibility for one of the steps: prepping the filling, rolling out the dough, cutting out circles, or blending the all-important sauce.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090524_8820f29eec104a6921e1273bf518f0656af604568bc68093e36f43fe8ecc51fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250516090524_8820f29eec104a6921e1273bf518f0656af604568bc68093e36f43fe8ecc51fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  This is where mastery of the vital skill of momo-folding can set you apart. And momo parties abroad can bring together long lost friends amid much nostalgia. Prashanta Khanal has two entries for momos in Timmur, his cookbook of dishes from across Nepal. One is momo-cha (‘dumplings with a buffalo meat filling and served with soupy jhol achaar made from sesame seeds and soybeans’). The other is the longer momo, often called Tibetan style. &nbsp; “The momo seems to have come to Kathmandu around the 17th century, when the long standing India-Nepal-Tibet trade route got more organised,” says Khanal. “At first, only trader families in the Valley made momo. They became wildly popular only about four decades ago, after they started being sold commercially.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090524_92d5ab4d34dccdbe592895fede973981f9021f864865d5be7f50c6a30e7d07d1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250516090524_92d5ab4d34dccdbe592895fede973981f9021f864865d5be7f50c6a30e7d07d1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco NT"> </figure>  Khanal reckons that momo was initially just a food of the valley, and he credits refugees from Tibet starting in the 1950s for spreading the food beyond the valley.&nbsp; Legend has it that dumplings were invented in northwestern China about 1,800 years ago by Zhang Zhongjing, a prominent physician in the eastern Han dynasty (25-220 AD). The legend goes that Zhongjing created ear-shaped dumplings to cure frostbitten ears, when he wrapped minced lamb, black pepper, and herbs in dough scraps. Eating these ‘Jiaozi’ would cure the patient by improving blood circulation.&nbsp; The food then spread through the region, through present-day China, Mongolia, and Tibet, and were actually already called momo. Each place developed its own variation. “The Mongolian momo has mutton or lamb, uses minimal spices, and is served not with sauce but with butter tea” explains Khanal, “and the Tibetan momo contains sheep, yak or mountain goat.”&nbsp; The Chinese retained a distinctive style of dumplings called dim sum. And when Newari traders brought the momo to Kathmandu, it was customised for local taste and ingredients. The strongly spiced buffalo meat is unique to the Valley. “Sherpa momos are usually spiced lightly, usually just with ginger, garlic and onion,” adds Khanal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090524_7e9d7e122c2bd64b248714e09aea84f9713eda930b563a3805aa642b79eb1918.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250516090524_7e9d7e122c2bd64b248714e09aea84f9713eda930b563a3805aa642b79eb1918" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco NT"> </figure>  Khanal has several recommendations for momos in Kathmandu: “Jazz Upstairs in Lazimpat has very juicy momos, and there is a store called Moti Didi Ko Momo in Thamel that is spiced mildly and comes with a cooked tomato achaar.”&nbsp; Some of the more unique vegetarian fillings can be found in the khuwa momos in Baneswor, the spinach-cheese momos at Shambala Cafe in Boudha, and sun-dried turnip-green momos in Mustang. Here are some other momo spots inside Ring Road that scored highest in a Nepali Times online survey: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Cafe ‘97 (Sanepa)</h2> This is an understated eatery with pictures of the Annapurna range and faded lanterns as decor. A plate of steamed buff momo is Rs160 and takes about 15 minutes from freezer to steamer in the open kitchen, and to the table. Ten momo come arranged around a small bowl of a spicy thin achar that does not stick to the momo but tastes good. 7.2/10.&nbsp; <h2>Akabare Jhol Momo (Dhobighat) &nbsp;</h2> Akabare Jhol Momo is a franchise with branches in Dhobighat, Baneswor, Putali Sadak and more. The name references the famous Mughal and the Nepali idiom about not needing to peddle a quality product with super potent chillies. Despite ‘Jhol Momo’ in the name, the Dhobighat branch also has choila, bara, biryani in the menu. A plate of chicken jhol momo is Rs170 and you are even offered a choice of warm or cold jhol, plus tomato achar and a dry chili condiment. The momo is very good and the jhol tasting of toasted sesame seeds could even stand alone as a soup. 8.6/10.&nbsp; <h2>Drop In (Bhanimandal)&nbsp;</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090516_c95bd4d0236e31b23f4254703d55059fe60a67b5f8dcc9d573b36249bfdab270.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250516090516_c95bd4d0236e31b23f4254703d55059fe60a67b5f8dcc9d573b36249bfdab270" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco NT"> <figcaption>Photos: VISHAD RAJ ONTA</figcaption> </figure>  Drop In is a hallowed momo spot up a flight of stairs that lead to two small rooms near the Bhanimandal basketball court. A plate of pork momo costs Rs200 and comes with 12 dumplings, not ten. The elongated momo are accompanied by a generous bowl of orange achar in which you can mix in toasted dry chili pickle or green chili vinegar. While they could be more generous with the filling, the dough is thin and the momo are light and feel authentic Tibetan. 9.4/10. &nbsp; <h2>Narayan Dai ko Masangalli Ko Momo (Patan Darbar Square)&nbsp;</h2> Narayan Dai ko Masangalli Ko Momo is another popular momo-cha chain. This branch is tucked into the entrance into Patan Darbar Square from Mangal Bazaar. Seating is at low tables on tree stump stools, and a plate of buff momo is Rs180. Perhaps this was an off day, but the jhol left stuff to be desired and filling carried too much whiff of buff. Don’t know who Narayan Dai was, but he would probably have set things right. 5.1/10.&nbsp; <h2>Nice Momo (Pulchok)&nbsp;</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090516_88f6e60282d8be90fb16b0643cfe1f9d455de65ac2e2439f54bcc51a2bb40a54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250516090516_88f6e60282d8be90fb16b0643cfe1f9d455de65ac2e2439f54bcc51a2bb40a54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1201" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco NT"> </figure>  This den behind Labim Mall has a rather shady ambience but there is outside seating too. A plate of chicken momo is Rs180, served up quick, and they are very light and almost sweet. There are two sauces, a red tomato achar and a darker red hot sauce. 7.6/10.&nbsp; <h2>House of Momo (Tripureswor)&nbsp;</h2> The House of Momo is a stall on the ground floor of the United World Trade Center Mall. The solo lady running the stall instantly serves up a plate of chicken momo for Rs150 in a leaf bowl. There are two strong achar, mild and hot. While the filling is bland and the momo falls apart on the fork, the sauces and the convenience sort of make up for it. 7.1/10 <h2>Tas and Sekuwa Mahal (Teku)&nbsp;</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090520_fadd2362d613bc1449c92998fe51b1d5ab667af2f4a17fccdeea274c7355180f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250516090520_fadd2362d613bc1449c92998fe51b1d5ab667af2f4a17fccdeea274c7355180f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco NT"> </figure>  It may not be the best idea to order momo at a place called Tas and Sekuwa Mahal, but it has a mutton momo on the menu at Rs280. Many plates of tas leave the kitchen before the momo are ready, which come with a peanut and a tomato achar. The mutton filling is chewy and dense, but with the spices it is pretty hard to tell apart from buff except for a slight aftertaste. 6.1/10.&nbsp; <h2>Bakery Cafe (Baneswor) &nbsp;</h2> The Bakery Cafe is a classic momo spot with a mascot of a man with a giant momo head, and staff wearing ‘I &lt;3 MOMOS’ t-shirts. This Baneswar branch has a huge interior with many unfilled seats, eerie compared to the bustling rallies and bus stop right outside. Get your momo any way you like: veg, buff, chicken, pork, mutton. Eight, ten or twelve-piece, steamed, Tibetan, T.S. Fried, C, jhol.&nbsp; The quality of the momo is undeniable. The filling has a perfect flavour and the two sauces complement each other and stick to the dumpling, which also holds up when you take a bite. But Rs350+ for an eight-piece chicken plate is above market rates. 8.7/10 <h2>Swadista Momo (Patan Dhoka)&nbsp;</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250516090516_8f8ab76fb12fcae799be632ab1a98d6ca2f058cbd060756e3e84c4d0191998ee.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250516090516_8f8ab76fb12fcae799be632ab1a98d6ca2f058cbd060756e3e84c4d0191998ee" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1063" loading="lazy" alt="Momo Loco"> </figure>  Located just past Patan Dhoka, a plate of buff is only Rs140 at Swadista and almost always instant, and a plate of chicken is on the cheaper side at Rs150 and takes about five more minutes to arrive. The best part is the three excellent jhol choices: the standard beige soybean-sesame, an orange tomato and a fiery red chili. The trick is to create a small opening in the momo skin and let the soup seep through. 8.7/10.&nbsp; <h2>Shandar Momo (Old Baneswor)&nbsp;</h2> Shandar Momo was recently in the news for tragic reasons. Its Baneswor branch looks small from the outside but opens into a large area, busy with both dine-in eaters and many takeouts being prepared. A plate of buff is only Rs145, and comes in a sectioned plate where you can separate different sauces. The place lives up to its ‘Shandar’ name, with a wonderfully spiced momo and toasty jhol with a distinct pleasant cardamom flavour that can be addictive. 7.9/10 <h2>Ghangri Cafe (Jhamsikhel)</h2> Ghangri Cafe’s signature open top momo is served with a trio of tomato, peanut and vinegar achar. The open top lets you experiment with different combinations of condiments poured straight into the filling. While deviating from the momo norm quite a bit, and expensive at Rs375 for a plate of open chicken steamed, the gimmick works and makes for an engaging, unique experience. 9.0/10.&nbsp;

Vishad Raj Onta

MOMO LOCO

Shristi Karki

Towering monument to 2015

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

Nepali hostage in Gaza not alive: Israel

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

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

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

What makes a Nepali?

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