“यहाँ वाग्नर कोदाली खनिरहेछन्, शेक्सपियर हलो जोत्ता हुन्, टिसियन र टर्नर भेडा चराउँदा हुन्, सोक्रेटिज गुफामा घोत्लिरहेका होलान्... यहाँ कति साहित्य छ, जो लेखिएकै छैन, न लेखिनेछ।” Wagners and Shakespeares could be ploughing fields here, Tissiens and Turners may be shepherds, Socrates must be living in a desolate cave ... there is so much literature here that is not written and will never be written. This excerpt from the essay के नेपाल सानो छ? (Is Nepal Small?) by poet Laxmi Prasad Devkota that most Nepali students have to learn in school, alludes to treasures of Nepali literature that remain hidden because people are too busy trying to survive.&nbsp; While Devkota’s dialectic may still be true, Nepali writers like Samyak Shertok are taking their literature to international platforms and giving it global recognition. Samyak Shertok is the recent recipient of the 2024 <a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fawpwriter.org%2FAWP%2FAWP%2FContests%2FAWP-Award-Series%2FDonald-Hall-Prize%2FOverview.aspx%3Ffbclid%3DIwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR2rtN6pn1xy9O42GhznnQekY96bavYGwHz6pDtNaSGh4qaKXsZKSyvCKDU_aem_bsY7bnUoJoSxEpfxw1UdVQ&amp;h=AT0QnfORyOboQ6xeVZYe-r4CLjYIjtZwIcEsR3r54yeHGbMqiMHTjcoT3CP2CD7VXUn9jytxX4FtFmLhINdF8UwGvLy9urNtzxIeUNLOuwLVhSH6hmbVx3oA8rZIY3WNkMani8g6I1c">Donald Hall Prize for Poetry</a>. His poem collection ‘No Rhododendron’ is being published next year by the University of Pittsburgh Press in the Pitt Poetry Series. His poems have also appeared in top literary journals and publications in the US, such as Best of New Poets, Iowa Review amd Kenyon Review.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241013131056_630058ef31163af4def47cbcc247089ee3df925ff6c1bd2014f1008db515f9c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241013131056_630058ef31163af4def47cbcc247089ee3df925ff6c1bd2014f1008db515f9c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Samyak Shertok"> <figcaption>Photo: CHANDRA S MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  ‘If poetry is, as has been defined, a species of magic, Samyak Shertok has conjured an elegant and sophisticated collection that is full of hybridity in form and subject…’ writes Donald Hall Prize 2024 jury member Kimiko Hahn, an American poet. ‘We are given a view into the conjuring, his view on how language expresses and depresses, how language as noise can mix into cacophony or clarify home.’ Hahn goes on to add, ‘There is abiding grief and, in that, surviving to tell and retell stories. This debut collection is an absolute marvel.’ Shertok’s poems immerse themselves in the idea of a mother language, of motherhood, home, ongoingness and his relationship with them, leaving behind a part of himself in each poem. His poems have a haunting grief and memories, and leave food for the soul to dwell upon. “Poems are a permanent home that I can always return to,” Shertok told us in a zoom call. He moved to the United States to pursue a psychology major as an undergraduate which he completed in 2011 from Brigham Young University, and has been there since. Samyak was born Shertok Lama, the youngest child in a Tamang family from Yurung village of Sindhupalchok district. He had always thought a poet had to be someone senior with a PhD, or a long white beard like Nepali poet Lekhnath Paudyal or the Bengali Nobel Prize winner Rabindranath Tagore. ‘Samyak’ means the Buddha’s middle way and ‘Shertok’ is the Tamang word for a golden steeple. Nepaliness is a recurring theme in Samyak’s verse, but he has a fraught relationship with his motherland. As someone from an indigenous community, Shertok grew up feeling stereotyped and judged which is why he opted for a surname that would not denote his ethnicity. He was eight when his older brother recited the poem he had written himself while walking to their school, an hour across mountain paths from his home. “The poem my older brother wrote was about love and destiny. I don’t remember the lines now, but the seed was planted sometime there,” Shertok recalls.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241013141012_e562220a7461f09924480bb991319bfc420ba275b672885815382bb526833301.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241013141012_e562220a7461f09924480bb991319bfc420ba275b672885815382bb526833301" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Samyak Shertok"> </figure>  Shertok has frequent references to his mother who played a part in shaping his career as a poet. He explains: “I believe my Ama is a lived poet. She doesn't know about poets, or how to write poems, but she naturally comes up with her own phrases that are poetic and deeply meaningful.” By Grade 11, Shertok was writing poems mostly in Nepali, but also English. He was prolific, penning short stories, essays, ghazals and managed to impress another <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/writing-about-nepal-from-afar">US-based Nepali writer Samrat Upadhyay</a> and publisher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/a-novelist-talks-to-his-translator">Ajit Baral of Fineprint</a> when he won the Writing Nepal competition organised by Lalit. "Samyak Shertok is a poet of great nuance and emotional depth," says Upadhyay who was the judge of the Lalit contest. "Even then I had been wowed by the poetry in Samyak’s prose, and it’s no wonder he’s emerged as a poet of considerable power now." He adds: "The fact that Samyak’s poetry is speaking to a diverse and international audience is evident in his numerous publications and awards. The Donald Hall Prize is a big deal. It boasts of many illustrious poets as its previous winners, such as Angela Ball and Reginald Shepherd. Samyak’s win is a win for Nepalis all over the world." Shertok struggled to adjust to a new culture and milieu. He did not feel like he belonged, and strived to feel appreciated. He finally had a MFA in poetry, but no job. “Poetry as a career is never fully secure, there is a compulsion to financially depend on something else,” says Shertok who now teaches poetry to students in Hendrix College in Arkansas. While he has been reading and writing poetry for most of his life, writing still does not get any easier for Shertok. “With practice, devotion and dedication, one might get better at techniques but writing a poem means starting from nothing,” adds Shertok, who is now working on his second book collection. “Something more challenging is to not repeat what I’ve already done in my previous poem.” While he still likes to explore different literary forms, poetry provides him ample room to explore life, living and longing. Even Shertok’s spoken words, carried over from the other side of the planet over Zoom is versified: “Each poem is a being. A poem begins with a haunting, and ends when you are able to release the haunt.”&nbsp;

Pinki Sris Rana

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Multimedia

Finding a permanent home in poetry

“अलि अलि अमिलो&nbsp; अलि अलि पिरो&nbsp; अलि अलि गुलियो&nbsp; अलि अलि टर्रो&nbsp; अलि अलि तितो&nbsp; तेसैले त दालभात यति मिठो ।”&nbsp; (‘A bit sour, a bit spicy, a bit sweet, a bit astringent, a bit bitter, that is what makes dal bhat so tasty.’ Inscription at the entrance of the Old Nepal Tokyo restaurant.) Right in the heart of Tokyo’s shopping district of Gotokuji is Old Nepal, a world away from Kathmandu. With an unassuming entrance lit with a dim lamp to read the restaurant’s name, one is immediately transported to the dark, narrow cobblestone alleys of Patan or Bhaktapur.&nbsp; Inside, it is pitch dark with no windows, evoking a traditional Nepali eatery during load-shedding. A narrow corridor reminiscent of Kathmandu’s backstreets leads visitors to an intimate but spacious dining room.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141040_50aa05c951621a704bc2dfadeb7022981782da1539789aae8e7ae8c30581a294.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241011141040_50aa05c951621a704bc2dfadeb7022981782da1539789aae8e7ae8c30581a294" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Photos: OLD NEPAL TOKYO</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141040_02afc769a35cf66b7deded49c6698973eada2d52cc7302394d827c30d661756c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241011141040_02afc769a35cf66b7deded49c6698973eada2d52cc7302394d827c30d661756c" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141040_fa5bcfaeee6c7ad7746605c4625d7de6e4312f9d4a0dc40a602a4d273200317b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241011141040_fa5bcfaeee6c7ad7746605c4625d7de6e4312f9d4a0dc40a602a4d273200317b" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>  The design is sparse, with earthy tones and enveloped in the scent of धुप incense. There is a घ्याम्पो clay vessel next to a wall filled with खोपा alcoves, just like in the brick and mud houses of old Nepal. The restaurant is the life's work of Ryo Honda, a chef who specialises in authentic but innovative Nepali cuisine with ingredients that he has explored in Nepal.&nbsp; “Each plate is inspired by Nepal’s diverse culture and landscape, even the colours,” explains the Kobe-native in accented Nepali. Each dish in Honda’s Mustang-themed menu is based on the colours of the rugged landscape of the trans-Himalayan region.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_fb7af4208db9dfc1eda5202c8d1ae01aed59950d4eb5ee70b8c9aa968eb50642.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241011141044_fb7af4208db9dfc1eda5202c8d1ae01aed59950d4eb5ee70b8c9aa968eb50642" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Ryo Honda. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_b354f6d850bf262f42199899c2884f03244e2d40924b205499f66910cb0ce097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241011141044_b354f6d850bf262f42199899c2884f03244e2d40924b205499f66910cb0ce097" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>  The colour-coded dishes include ‘Shyau’ (red, like Mustang’s apples), ‘Alooko Achar’ (grey, like the pebbles on the banks of the Kali Gandaki), sautéed rock trout with green soup called Ghandhau Macha (green), Thukpa (jet black buckwheat noodles, mixed with bamboo charcoal), Bangur Ko Sekuwa (brown, like the rice) and Dal Bhat and Chamalko Kulfi (yellow desert).&nbsp; “I love Nepal because the country does &nbsp;not have only one kind of people and food culture,” explains Honda, 41, during one of his annual visits to Nepal. On this trip, he was exploring Tharu cuisine in Kanchanpur.&nbsp; Honda and his wife Mari also visited Dhankuta, sampling local mushrooms and other ingredients. Old Nepal sources a lot of its ingredients, especially spices like cumin, turmeric, cilantro, jimbu, timur, and pink Tibetan salt direct from Nepal. Some of these items are also sold separately in a spice shop called Sunya one floor above the restaurant.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141036_d61a6d6910c357f91398c48633e28cd6f73e52e3202470209b7feccd36cd10b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241011141036_d61a6d6910c357f91398c48633e28cd6f73e52e3202470209b7feccd36cd10b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Dal Bhat</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_838e083c94b36e8de85ca3532133119d605069d27dddba0a9268202933b27be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241011141044_838e083c94b36e8de85ca3532133119d605069d27dddba0a9268202933b27be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Alooko Achar</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_929ded9b7be75beec3295351aaee06d976869d950f70c3166eb93224e9f27c5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241011141044_929ded9b7be75beec3295351aaee06d976869d950f70c3166eb93224e9f27c5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Nepali spices in Old Nepal Tokyo.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali food is what it is because of its distinctive aroma,” says Honda, “and much of this has to do with spices unique to Nepal like jimbu and timur.” Honda’s love affair with Nepal began in Kobe in 2007 when he started working at a Nepali restaurant. He got so passionately involved that he wanted to dive deep into the diverse cuisine of this Himalayan nation that he hadn't even visited yet.&nbsp; “If I were to cook Nepali food better, I decided I had to visit the country,” Honda recalls. “I did, and returned to Kobe with new inspiration.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_b30dcf5c610d1c2cd48a21c30501deb65c3a14fabf6ce7d38f97af5d56baf41b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241011141048_b30dcf5c610d1c2cd48a21c30501deb65c3a14fabf6ce7d38f97af5d56baf41b" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Thukpa</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_a0a11578723afd63f5e0079f7a8124a4ac5b8edd1333b9ab86b8d466119516bf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241011141048_a0a11578723afd63f5e0079f7a8124a4ac5b8edd1333b9ab86b8d466119516bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Chamalko Kulfi</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_35daaa8f7cdaa03837f2250b47865ac74aa8c90efc43982b825dc3487a321abc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20241011141048_35daaa8f7cdaa03837f2250b47865ac74aa8c90efc43982b825dc3487a321abc" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Ghandhau Macha</figcaption> </figure>  Fast forward a few years and he found himself in Osaka, working at a friend’s restaurant called Dal Bhat Shokudo, where most customers were Nepali students. Ryo and Mari continued visiting Nepal often, traversing the mountains and plains from Dolpo to Bardia, in search of special local ingredients and cooking methods.&nbsp; The trips also gave them crucial insight into Nepali society, and how cooks, many of them women and children, are looked down upon.&nbsp; That is how the idea of Old Nepal Tokyo developed – treating Nepali cuisine with dignity and respect by building a fine dining experience around it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_89b216a6a67e00ea9ffbe9f9d020637237857afb48548140a2d4a50f3eb100ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20241011141048_89b216a6a67e00ea9ffbe9f9d020637237857afb48548140a2d4a50f3eb100ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Dhok Dhok, Tsampa</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_f69e83781ffbd4f717e54099df18cd453515a942f8d8f6437063c5b93bda3c66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20241011141048_f69e83781ffbd4f717e54099df18cd453515a942f8d8f6437063c5b93bda3c66" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Shyau</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_2ce56f29c8114e57e56ceab115f53ee07c8faea79b27f127445e19d18af52cc7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20241011141048_2ce56f29c8114e57e56ceab115f53ee07c8faea79b27f127445e19d18af52cc7" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Bangur Ko Sekuwa</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;“In many ways, Nepal is my business and I was wondering what I could do to give back to the country that has given me so much,” muses Honda, sitting in the Juneli Chiyabari tea room in Patan.&nbsp; “Nepali cooks are not generally considered skilled, and do not make much money. Nepali high-end dining would change that.”&nbsp; Old Nepal Tokyo is a reservation-only, set-menu restaurant, with each course costing upwards of ¥13,000 ($90), and it is listed in the Michelin Guide.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_71edfab477ff1f5c4ed4878979b6134b6d25674aae0d052d060342583f198560.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20241011141048_71edfab477ff1f5c4ed4878979b6134b6d25674aae0d052d060342583f198560" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141052_224a388986379ccc5aac13dabae0f37e67febbf5f4b764cdb1c8c61715a1f084.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20241011141052_224a388986379ccc5aac13dabae0f37e67febbf5f4b764cdb1c8c61715a1f084" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  “Most customers here do not know much about Nepal and have never been there,” says Honda, “but after eating here, they cannot wait to visit Nepal.”&nbsp; Ryo and Mari eventually want to open a fine-dining Nepali restaurant in Nepal itself. They have published a Nepali recipe book in Japanese. One of the items in it is of a festival-themed dessert, called Tihar, that uses marigold, juju dhau and methi syrup. &nbsp; Honda also experimented with making timur beer, and is now selling it in cans at the restaurant. The reviews are good. Newari cuisine is Honda’s favourite among Nepal's cuisine. “It has similarities to the food from Kobe. We also use a lot of internal organs,” he laughs. &nbsp;

Sonia Awale

A taste of old Nepal in Tokyo

Shyam Lama had just fallen asleep on the early morning of 28 September when he heard a loud bang outside his shop on the side of the highway in Dhading, 15km from Kathmandu. It had been r<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">aining incessantly for two days</a>, landslips and fallen trees had blocked the Kathmandu-Mugling highway. Many buses were stranded, and some of them were parked at a bend on the road in Jhyaple Khola, waiting for the debris to be cleared. The bang that Lama heard was another landslide from the mountain above falling near his shop and covering the highway with 4m of mud and stones. Some of the buses were damaged, and injured passengers were running for safety in the darkness and pouring rain. In the light of dawn, they could see the damaged buses heading to Kathmandu from the west. But it was not till later in the day that Lama and some of the other rescuers saw the top of another bus sticking out of the mud.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_a0b528829a4230da6b7b26102a42f0a061de6c26a4fb1d1e201dabfcfc647519.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241008141044_a0b528829a4230da6b7b26102a42f0a061de6c26a4fb1d1e201dabfcfc647519" data-rendition-name="original" width="5726" height="3817" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: suman)</figcaption> </figure>  They dug through the slush to find 11 bodies. But then they spotted the tyre of another vehicle, then a van. Altogether 35 passengers perished that night in the three buses heading to Kathmandu from Chitwan, Butwal and Gorkha.&nbsp; “The buses were all stuck because the highway was blocked, and the landslide fell and buried them with the passengers sleeping inside,” Lama says. “If the debris up the road had been cleared in time, the buses would have been able to continue on to Kathmandu.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-flood-of-tears-on-the-rosi">A flood of tears on the Rosi</a>, Archana Darji Archana Koirala runs a convenience store nearby, and was also awoken by muffled shouts for help almost drowned out by the sound of the rain on the tin roof. “In the darkness, I saw people escaping from two buses, some of them injured and covered in blood,” recalls Koirala. “I gathered up my little girls and ran for my life.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_ec79cc7198b54bad77c3f03bc1420ea64cb6776eaaec29581209614194b862fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241008141044_ec79cc7198b54bad77c3f03bc1420ea64cb6776eaaec29581209614194b862fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="5680" height="3787" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> </figure>  Another shop owner Ajita Tamang, heard the landslide coming down and nearly burying her house. She ran with her mother to the nearby woods. Her shop did not survive. Krishna Tamang heard the sound of a bus windshield shattering, and went outside to check. &nbsp;He saw one of the buses half-buried in debris before it disappeared before his eyes, swallowed up by a fresh wave of mud. Unable to do anything to help, he ran up the mountain to save his own life.&nbsp; Shop owners and residents in Jhyaple Khola say that the landslide was so massive and came down so suddenly that the passengers in the vehicles probably did not even know what hit them. A week later, the mangled mass of the three buses are all that remain on the roadside, and excavators were trying to open the road for the expected heavy Dasain traffic on the arterial highway that connects Kathmandu to western Nepal. A visit to the site shows the mountain above scarred by open red wounds of landslides. The biggest slope failure originates in a local road about 100m above the highway and has brought down debris that was just dumped over the edge by bulldozers. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair">When the record-breaking rain came</a>, the mud turned into paste and raced down the mountain carrying tree trunks and large stones. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_64f6af7e300ed517f6bd161491a69d85706caed35839cfeee7c87e6671a8fdc3.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241008141044_64f6af7e300ed517f6bd161491a69d85706caed35839cfeee7c87e6671a8fdc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="1346" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>The bend on the highway where the landslide, triggered by a sub-standard road up the mountain buried three buses, killing 35 people on the night of 28 September. Other buses also blocked by another landslide further up the road were also damaged. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Typically, Dasain is the busiest time of year for businesses along the highway in Jhyaple Khola as people leave Kathmandu by busloads to get home for the festival. “We do not stay here for long anymore, we are already home before the sun sets,” says Krishna Tamang. “We fear another landslide will hit us at any time.” In July, a debris flow <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/100-101-102-hh5uvzf9">swept two intercity buses into the Trisuli River</a> along the Mugling-Narayangad Highway 60km west of here. Of the 62 passengers on the two buses, only three were able to swim to safety. Search and rescue teams recovered 27 passengers from the river in the aftermath of the landslide, but neither the buses nor the rest of the passengers have been found.&nbsp; A committee formed by the government to investigate the Simaltal disaster concluded that a new local road constructed farther up the mountain was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon">mainly responsible for the debris flow</a>. The Jhyaple Khola mudslide was a repeat of the July disaster. Locals in Dhading say that the Department of Roads had just completed the retaining wall, and the debris from the excavation done to construct the road had piled up, which the rain swept down to the highway below.&nbsp; Similar unplanned roads constructed further above in Nagdhunga have also clogged up the culverts, which remain uncleared.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_d46e7f612ce53b0c3133219a36ab81c5ef8f7494dc002452580c086d70028652.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241008141044_d46e7f612ce53b0c3133219a36ab81c5ef8f7494dc002452580c086d70028652" data-rendition-name="original" width="2340" height="1560" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  “This disaster occurred because of the locally elected representatives, the Road Department and the contractors,” says local business owner Shyam Kumar Lama. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">You cannot blame it on a natural disaster</a>." “They keep tearing down the retaining walls to build haphazard roads, and replace them with brick walls,” adds Lama. “How is a barely one-foot-thick wall going to stop a landslide?” Geologist Sri Kamal Dwivedi says that the Department of Roads has not heeded the geological risks in excavations for road expansion across the country. “The soil above Jhyaple Khola was loosened by torrential rain, causing a high-speed debris flow onto the highway below,” &nbsp;explains Dwivedi. “Additionally, the possibility of disasters like landslides increases when slopes are cut to make way for road expansion.” Transport expert Kamal Pandey says that disasters like the ones in Simaltal and Jhyaple Khola happen frequently because environmental risks are ignored during investments in road expansion. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers">The revenge of the rivers</a>, Shamshad Ahmad “New roads are dug up like it is some kind of competition,” says Pandey. “But as long as unmanaged excavation continues without plans in place to mitigate landslides, disasters like the one at Jhyaple Khola will continue to happen.” Indeed, this is not the first time a disaster of this scale has struck in Jhyaple Khola. In 2001, a similar debris flow from higher up the hill buried a vehicle on the highway below, killing nine people.&nbsp; Landslides of smaller scales occur in the area every monsoon, but they do not make it to the news. But even as they are used to the frequent landslides, there is now a new kind of fear among residents.&nbsp; “I am overcome with terror every time I look up to the overcast sky,” says Shyam Lama. “We will never be safe in this place as long as the mountains keep falling on top of us.” &nbsp;

"The mountain fell on top of us"

The Rosi Valley is a ravaged landscape of boulders, tree trunks, overturned tipper trucks, tilted concrete houses and the surrounding mountains with claw marks. A week later, survivors are still in shock. Many who witnessed the 2015 earthquake say this disaster was worse, and it was made even more deadly because of unregulated quarries and stone mines in the Rosi watershed upstream. They blame collusion between contractors and municipality officials. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers">The revenge of the rivers</a>, Shamshad Admad  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_c55becabe58855ee897cacf411e0889923bd699b07d563444f16c009362ed50e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241007131020_c55becabe58855ee897cacf411e0889923bd699b07d563444f16c009362ed50e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> <figcaption>Panauti and quarries in the Rosi watershed in this Google Map image taken in May 2024.</figcaption> </figure>  Kumar Gurung, 54, was bailing out muddy water from inside his half-demolished house. He had bought the home only two days previously in the village of Bhaleswar with Rs3 million that his son, Dinesh, saved after working in Qatar. “My son’s years of hard work were washed away in minutes by the Rosi,” said Gurung in a raspy voice due to fever. Upriver in Panauti, Ganesh Dahal stares with his head resting on a hand, at what is left of his house which is buried by mud. This was the spot from where he had helped dig out the bodies of his 2 month old grand-daughter and daughter-in-law.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008151024_2ec425286997c5f75e6d43e8e6a6c5cbf17d9bfe55899518fbddcb9bb87f34ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241008151024_2ec425286997c5f75e6d43e8e6a6c5cbf17d9bfe55899518fbddcb9bb87f34ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Quarries along the Rosi River in Khusadevi."> <figcaption>Quarries along the Rosi River in Khusadevi.</figcaption> </figure>  “It took just minutes for ten lives to be lost,” he says, explaining that he is counting his daughter-in-law, her baby, and eight goats which were also like family. Ganesh’s wife is weeping silently nearby as relatives console her. Their daughter Puja had just come down a few days previously from her husband’s house to spend time with her parents. It was early morning on 28 September, and it had been raining constantly for two days already. Puja had got up at dawn to feed her baby, given the goats fodder, when the mudslide hit the house and she raised the alarm. The whole family decided to move up the mountain for safety. Ganesh’s daughter-in-law, Gopini, carried the baby and told Puja to run ahead. Just then a bigger slide buried them. “I was a little way behind, but saw the landslide take Gopini and the baby away,” Ganesh remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_ce23b02a81f46223f4be66d65fc2fa015fc3952ec53234258bfe9b0b0d4370b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241007131020_ce23b02a81f46223f4be66d65fc2fa015fc3952ec53234258bfe9b0b0d4370b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_5c078a7eb2fe3b15f653ad7d0c9047339bb2dddd538c395f07e20689eb9c3e63.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241007131020_5c078a7eb2fe3b15f653ad7d0c9047339bb2dddd538c395f07e20689eb9c3e63" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="2296" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> <figcaption>Photos: ARCHANA DARJI and SHAMSHAD AHMAD</figcaption> </figure>  The wall of mud also buried the home that he had rebuilt after it was damaged by the 2015 earthquake. His sons rushed home from Banepa, and started digging but it was not till the next morning that they found Gopini’s body still clasping the dead baby. “No one helped us, neither the police nor the officials we elected to the municipality,” says Ganesh. “They still have not come.” Homesteads in these mountains are scattered along the slopes, and help is hard to reach. Still, even a week later, no government agency has visited the village. The roads are damaged, so the family cannot even go anywhere. At nearby Jorghatta village, Guman Singh has just retrieved household items from his home which was buried by a mudslide. Scattered around him are bottles of spices, cooking oil and some food.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_25aa6caddc4d3f305bbdce2809375d1a8a5e2579cc9b3ff50aba8e4f661f9c8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241007131020_25aa6caddc4d3f305bbdce2809375d1a8a5e2579cc9b3ff50aba8e4f661f9c8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_8eb71c38cd867ce7e5ead08be2455ddde91a012e04442484499e310a24ca412e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241007131020_8eb71c38cd867ce7e5ead08be2455ddde91a012e04442484499e310a24ca412e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> </figure>  &nbsp;Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair">Flood of despair</a>, Rastraraj Bhandari “It’s gone, everything is gone,” he mutters. “We heard it coming down, so we ran for safety. But we lost the house and everything in it. Neighbour Namrata Nagarkoti’s house was also swept away. “It is like I am not conscious, and watching myself going about,” she says, still in shock of what has befallen her family. There was a lot of commotion that morning from neighbours who shouted: “Run, run, there is a flood coming.” She and her family managed to climb to higher ground, but watched the flood take their home away. “We had no time to take anything out,” she says. “We had just harvested the paddy and corn, we had some cash. We have nothing except the clothes we are wearing.” The Rosi River has changed course and is now flowing through Tilak Tamang’s house which only has one wall left. His roadside eatery is filled with slushy mud. “We had no time to take anything out,” Tamang says. “I just have this T-shirt and half pants I am wearing. The Rosi took everything.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008151028_c2cb6d1529b0f9b6419cc97ab5199ef9aab4a8e54f0bacfa8c4bedcba570560e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241008151028_c2cb6d1529b0f9b6419cc97ab5199ef9aab4a8e54f0bacfa8c4bedcba570560e" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="Downstream from the Rosi after it joins the Sun Kosi, a 200m section of the B P Highway was washed away by the flood on 28 September, cutting off Kathmandu from the eastern parts of the country."> <figcaption>Downstream from the Rosi after it joins the Sun Kosi, a 200m section of the B P Highway was washed away by the flood on 28 September, cutting off Kathmandu from the eastern parts of the country. PEMA LAMA / RSS</figcaption> </figure>  Nearby, Dil Kumari Raut was luckier. She managed to save her livestock and her home, but her paddy field ready for harvest is all gone. “What is important is that I am alive,” she tells us. Of the total 244 people who are so far known to have lost their lives in Nepal’s flood last week, 69 died only in the Rosi Valley. Of the 71 injured, most are still in Dhulikhel Hospital. Some villagers had walked all day to Bhaleswar to get relief supplies and food, they were resting by the road and looked tired, hungry and traumatised. Panauti Municipality is distributing 35kg of rice, 2kg dal, salt, and cooking oil to each family. But some of the villagers complained they got only half the rice. “Most of the relief supplies are going to friends of the local officials and those living along the roads,” says Dinesh Gurung. “For us from up the mountains there is nothing.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008151028_2dd3673e5ff21a10e60fd3a25b5944292f1c89d04f8f486782679b0505b92d99.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241008151028_2dd3673e5ff21a10e60fd3a25b5944292f1c89d04f8f486782679b0505b92d99" data-rendition-name="original" width="858" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="How the floodplain of the Sun Kosi at Mulkot, downstream from the Rosi, has been overbuilt between 2003 and 2024. The resort was swept away, as was a part of the highway."> <figcaption>How the floodplain of the Sun Kosi at Mulkot, downstream from the Rosi, has been overbuilt between 2003 and 2024. The resort was swept away, as was a part of the highway. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  With Dasain around the corner, most villagers up here say they have nothing to eat, no safe drinking water, no electricity and no homes. “Where do we go now?” asks Indra Tamang. “Where is the government?” Most villagers said they had never got the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">forecast warnings</a> the Department of Meteorology put out about the heavy rainfall a week before the flood hit. Although most in Kathmandu had heard the warnings on the radio or phones, the information had not gotten up here in the mountains of Kavre. “It was normal to expect rain, but we did not know it was going to be so heavy,” says Tanka Banjara, who is the disaster management coordinator for his ward council. “If we had been forewarned, we could have moved to safer places.” Many seniors here do not recall <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">rain and flood damage on this scale</a> before. There was a flood in 1981 also, but the damage was not as bad. “Our village has become a cemetery. How can we survive here?” asks Ganesh Dahal.&nbsp;

A flood of tears on the Rosi

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

Japan-born Nepali children struggle to ‘be Nepali’

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

The not-so-permanent frost

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

The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush

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

One dog at a time

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

Rivers be dammed

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

दौरा सुरुवाल

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

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

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

UFO over Pokhara

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

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

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