As the Global North turns inward, foreign aid has become an easy target. The decimation of the US Agency for International Development (USAID) has dominated headlines, but the UK and many Europeans have also cut foreign-aid budgets.&nbsp;
Policymakers in these countries view this spending as a form of charity, and think that bolstering their economic and military might can deliver more benefits for more people.
This is short-sighted. It recalls the great-power ambitions of the 19th and early 20th centuries that culminated in two world wars. The global governance architecture that emerged from this unprecedented tragedy initially focused on responding to reconstruction and humanitarian needs, before turning to development.&nbsp;
Despite its flaws, this approach helped lift more than one billion people out of extreme poverty and build stable and thriving economies around the world.
The global health system built with funding from the US, the UK, and others &nbsp;reduced infectious disease rates and health inequalities, creating a safer and more secure world. Five years ago, this system was instrumental in detecting Covid-19, tracking its spread, and mobilising a global response.
But Covid-19 also illustrated how poorer countries and households are caught in an inequality-pandemic cycle. Contrary to claims that the Global North gives too much aid and receives too little in return, it is the Global South that is getting the bad deal.&nbsp;
After compiling and analysing hundreds of peer-reviewed studies, the Global Council on Inequality, AIDS and Pandemics found that poor and marginalised people struggle to access health services during disease outbreaks, leaving them more susceptible to infection, illness, and death. Viruses and other contagions prey on these vulnerabilities, turning outbreaks into epidemics, and epidemics into pandemics, which deepen inequalities and reinforce the cycle.
In the early days of Covid-19, this inequality-pandemic cycle was on display in Global North countries. White-collar professionals worked safely from home, thanks to high-speed internet and teleconferencing platforms, whereas small businesses and factories closed, throwing blue-collar workers into financial crisis. In these countries, the pandemic hit low-income and minority communities the hardest.
The unequal impact of the pandemic was also felt between countries. Vaccines were developed in record time – the result of a remarkable multilateral investment in strategic industries – but high-income countries purchased most of them, and then refused to share excess doses with the developing world. This vaccine hoarding caused more than one million deaths and cost the global economy an estimated $2.3 trillion.
The same pattern played out in the early response to the AIDS pandemic. At the end of the 20th century, effective antiretroviral drugs became available in the Global North. But AIDS continued to kill hundreds of thousands of people in the Global South, and especially in Sub-Saharan Africa.&nbsp;
In 2002, fewer than one million people living with HIV had access to antiretrovirals, whereas more than 30 million do today, expanding access to treatment has so far saved an estimated 26 million lives. And, before the recent foreign-aid cuts, the world could have achieved its goal of ending AIDS as a public health threat by 2030.
The decades-long journey to end AIDS has underscored the importance of investing in health systems, medical research, and vaccine and drug production. It has highlighted that people’s living conditions determine their well-being.
GOING VIRAL
In 1996, Botswana, which was hit particularly hard by the AIDS pandemic, effectively added a year of secondary school to its public education system. This created a natural, population-level experiment on the effect of schooling on the risk of HIV infection.&nbsp;
An analysis of huge cohorts of young people who went to school under the old system and the new system found that each additional year of schooling reduced a young person’s risk of HIV infection by 8.1%. This protective effect was strongest among women, whose risk of contracting HIV decreased by 11.6% for each additional year of school.
Building fairer societies leads to healthier populations that are better prepared to react to disease outbreaks and prevent pandemics. By contrast, defunding public education, slashing social safety nets, imposing tariffs, closing borders, cutting foreign aid, and disengaging from multilateral cooperation will widen inequalities, fuel political instability, accelerate economic migration, and create the conditions for viruses to thrive.
This is evident in Ukraine, where an over-burdened health-care system has accelerated the spread of drug-resistant infections through war-torn communities. Meanwhile, outbreaks of Ebola, mpox, measles, and Marburg are on the rise, partly owing to globalisation and climate change.&nbsp;
Weakening the global health system will enable these outbreaks to fester and spread, taking lives, deepening inequalities, and destabilising societies. Experts are already warning that cuts to US programs (including those delivered by USAID) could lead to a 400% increase in AIDS deaths by 2029.
The abiding lesson of pandemics is that no one is safe until everyone is safe. Building walls and shutting out the world will not protect people. The only way to do that is by reducing inequalities and investing in the global health. Cooperation is the ultimate act of self-interest. &nbsp;© Project Syndicate
Winnie Byanyima is Executive Director of UNAIDS and an under-secretary-general at the United Nations. Michael Marmot is Director of the Institute of Health Equity and Professor of Epidemiology at University College London.

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Opinion

Protectionism will not protect against pandemics

Nepal has made dramatic progress in expanding health services, yet millions of people still do not fully benefit from their Constitution-ensured right to basic medical service. Many of those deprived of accessible and affordable healthcare are in remote far-flung areas of the country, but increasingly they are also among the urban poor who have migrated to the cities and live in the margins. In both areas there are gaps in service quality, health workforce availability, and governance capacity. Out of pocket expenses for medical treatment of a family member can push families into absolute poverty and debt. The 2025 WHO–World Bank Global Monitoring Report on Universal Health Coverage underlines this challenge -- financial hardship from health spending remains a major barrier to equity, even where medical coverage has improved. In Nepal, rising demand for better and more affordable healthcare and workforce shortages due to outmigration of medical personnel and other factors mean that the government is unable to bridge these gaps through public provision alone. Well-governed and accountable public-private partnerships (PPPs) aligned with national priorities offer <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Crowding-it-out,1003" target="_blank">a practical pathway from policy commitment to real-world impact</a>. The experience of the non-profit Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN) in partnership with the Sudurpaschim Province is an example of where this has worked well. Through <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/altruistic-healthcare-models-in-nepal" target="_blank">public ownership and non-profit management</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJzWlnYd0ZM&amp;t=17s" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital</a> in Achham and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/unique-hospital-handover-in-dolakha" target="_blank">Charikot Hospital in Dolakha</a> strengthened service delivery, supply chains, health workforce management, and digital health systems, while keeping all services free at the point of care.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251231101244_b59dabd4604a24426a55fe91c0e5866b5029858bdb4c4028c331557aeb5408ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251231101244_b59dabd4604a24426a55fe91c0e5866b5029858bdb4c4028c331557aeb5408ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bayalpata"> <figcaption>Bayalpata hospital in Achham.</figcaption> </figure>  NHN managed Charikot from 2016-2020 and handed it over to Bagmati Province, and Bayalpata was handed over to Sudurpachim after 17 years in August 2025. These partnerships reduced out-of-pocket spending, improved trust in public facilities, and directly addressed financial concerns of citizens. The WHO–World Bank Global Monitoring Report emphasised that universal health coverage requires strengthening primary health care, providing free services at the point of care, and protecting families from financial hardship. Public–nonprofit partnerships like NHN and others in Nepal provide a model to directly address these challenges. By improving access to quality care, supporting local health workers, and keeping services free, these partnerships help reduce health costs for families, build trust in local health facilities, and narrow the gap between rural and urban health services, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJdxLD0hBqo&amp;t=3s" target="_blank">turning </a><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJdxLD0hBqo&amp;t=3s" target="_blank">policy commitments into real improvements for communities.</a> The experience of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital" target="_blank">Bayalpata and Charikot hospitals</a> show that effective PPPs are governance-driven, not market-led. Clear agreements, transparent data sharing, performance-based management, and strong government oversight guaranteed that public institutions were strengthened rather than sidelined. Bayalpata and Charikot successfully transitioned leadership and full management to Sudurpaschim and Bagmati provincial governments, proving that public-private partnerships can build lasting government capacity, not dependency.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251231101244_a8821faa2059498bbd3318386a1bea25b7cfe7a36600c2e2ce250e97caed51e8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251231101244_a8821faa2059498bbd3318386a1bea25b7cfe7a36600c2e2ce250e97caed51e8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1570" height="940" loading="lazy" alt="Charikot hospital"> <figcaption>Charikot hospital in Dolakha.</figcaption> </figure>  This model combined facility-level operational flexibility with public stewardship, and tackled long-standing weaknesses in Nepal’s health system, from workforce retention to evidence-based decision-making. Scaling such models through a national, gap-focused partnership framework is now an urgent opportunity. Replicating Bayalpata model partnerships in selected hospitals and primary health care centers could rapidly advance the three pillars of universal healthcare: equitable access, quality services, and financial risk protection. Institutionalising public-private partnerships within the Ministry of Health and Population and &nbsp;linking it to national health insurance reforms could help fulfil the promise of Article 35 of the Constitution guaranteeing basic healthcare to all citizens. For development partners and donors, this could represent a high-impact, evidence-informed investment aligned with the WHO–World Bank call to reduce financial hardship while strengthening healthcare systems. If Nepal is serious about leaving no one behind, strategic public–non-profit partnerships must move from the margins to the mainstream of health system reform. By <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal" target="_blank">scaling the NHN model</a> at Bayalpata and Charikot nationwide, Nepal can build a resilient, equitable health system where every community regardless of location or income has access to quality care, financial protection, and the opportunity to succeed. Investing in well-governed PPP models is not only essential to protect the health of the Nepali people but also to safeguard the country’s economic stability and long-term resilience. &nbsp; Srijana Devkota is Director of Program and Partnerships at <a href="https://nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank">Nyaya Health Nepal</a> (NHN). <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJdxLD0hBqo&amp;t=3s" target="_blank">Watch a video of Bayalpata Hospital.</a> <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xJdxLD0hBqo?si=_gSoClqwmI-ecSxh" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

A healthier, wealthier Nepal

After the 2008 Constituent Assembly election and the 2015 Constitution, scholars and civil society alike believed the country was on the path to lasting change.&nbsp;
Despite early optimism, democracy remains fragile and falling short of the expectations of citizens. A corrupt elite dominates the political landscape while young citizens grow disillusioned to the point of taking to the streets or staging a mass exodus.
The GenZ movement toppled the government and fresh elections are on the horizon, with that there is another promise of a ‘New Nepal’. Young people previously uninterested in state affairs are now alert and demand a voice. Promising new parties are emerging.&nbsp;
This political awakening should prompt reflection on where we went wrong and how to do better. One striking feature undermining Nepal’s democracy over the past three decades was the <a href="https://www.pressreader.com/india/the-hindu-bangalore-9WW1/20240718/281479281648573" target="_blank">sheer number of coalition</a> governments in such a short time.&nbsp;
Nepal has had 14 prime ministers in 16 years. Each of them served an average of just a little over a year. <a href="https://doi.org/10.1017/s0007123417000539" target="_blank">Coalitions are not inherently bad for a democracy</a>. In fact, coalitions can help bring in diversity of values, voices, and participation in Parliament.&nbsp;
However, chronic and unpredictable coalition patterns undermine and destabilise democracy. Nepal’s fragile coalition governments degenerated into unholy alliances and horse trading between ideologically divergent and previously rival groups.&nbsp;
When one coalition collapsed, the cycle repeated, leaving little room for long-term vision or consistent governance. The result? Corruption, endless infighting, stalled progress, and a nation stuck in political limbo.
This observation is not new, but the blame is misdirected. Some suggest a different electoral system entirely, but instead of scrapping the entire structure and building a new one from scratch, why not examine what went wrong within the systems we already have and fix those?&nbsp;
The coalition problem is not a result of the electoral system but of the party system. While political parties are the medium through which representation and mass participation occur, a party system is the entire network of how they interact, compete, and cooperate within a country’s political landscape.&nbsp;
It is not just one party that is the bad apple, the entire basket is creating conditions for the apples to rot.&nbsp;
The party system is weakly institutionalised. Nepal struggles with unpredictable electoral competition, widespread public distrust in political parties, fragmented internal party structures, and shallow societal embeddedness.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.academia.edu/59719587/Party_System_Institutionalization_Party_Collapse_and_Party_Building" target="_blank">Party System Institutionalisation</a> should create a structured, programmatic competition, but in Nepal the political environment is dominated by elite-level bargaining and opportunistic alliances. Parties form and break coalitions not out of principle, but convenience. Power, not policy, becomes the goal.
This fragility did not emerge overnight. Nepal’s history of a turbulent democracy led to the creation of a necessity- and survival-driven party system.Political parties were born in precarious circumstances, emerging in secrecy, exile, or in response to survival imperatives, rather than organic political development.&nbsp;
The absolute monarchy was always a looming threat, and it worked to prevent the institutionalisation of party structures, even after 1990. As a result, coalition reshuffling became a reactionary survival strategy, reinforcing patterns of short-termism and deepening the perception of parties as opportunistic rather than principled actors.&nbsp;
Over the years, this cycle has hollowed out the substantive meaning of electoral competition: while parties compete and governments change, the underlying political dynamics remain stagnant, offering few real alternatives and fostering a culture of fickle and fragile coalitions.
Building a resilient democracy would require returning to the basics to &nbsp;strengthen the foundations of our party system. Political parties need to look inward and invest in their own institutional development.&nbsp;
That means promoting internal democracy through leadership term limits and transparent succession processes, building clearer ideological platforms that speak to citizens’ real concerns, and forging deeper and more consistent connections with society that go beyond election season or clientelistic outreach.&nbsp;
What Nepal’s parties need is not another rebranding campaign or a protest, but a fundamental reassessment of their purpose, vision, and social relevance.&nbsp;
These lessons are especially important for new political parties hoping to present themselves as genuine alternatives to the status quo. Real change will not come from winning seats alone, it will come from the hard, sustained work of building strong institutions and earning public confidence.&nbsp;
If we once again have hung parliaments, parties will need to build alliances grounded not in self-serving negotiations but in shared policy visions and ideological goals. Without such reforms, Nepal will remain trapped in the same cycle of coalition instability that has long undermined its promise of stable governance and a thriving democracy.
Suvexa Pradhan Tuladhar is an Early Career Policy Research Fellow at Nepal Institute for Policy Research (NIPoRe). She recently graduated from Lake Forest College, IL, USA, with a B.A. (Hons). She double-majored in International Relations and Sociology &amp; Anthropology and minored in Urban Studies.

Nepal’s party problem

“Two lakhs and your job will be done.” We overheard a bureaucrat casually say this to a single mother in a government office. Corruption is a given in Nepali society. From Social Studies books in school to conversations at dinners, it was always understood that a key reason why our country fails time and again is the kleptocracy. Seeing it play out in front of our eyes was disconcerting. The woman pleaded that she did not have that kind of money: “हामीसंग तेत्रो पैसा छैन सर, मिलाइदिनुस न”. If it is so normal for people to need social or economic capital to get the simplest things done, what happens to those who have neither? Corruption is not just stealing money, it steals time, agency, it steals dreams, robs citizens of their rights, it steals their future.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250909120912_cd93a827631d987ee52723aa270faf45aa42e4322eb8f06304b28215e3cea28a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250909120912_cd93a827631d987ee52723aa270faf45aa42e4322eb8f06304b28215e3cea28a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1042" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu protests"></figure>  The very system supposed to protect the underserved serves the already privileged, further widening class, caste and gender gaps. Everywhere, we saw recurring normalisation of corruption. We saw no future for ourselves in a country rotten to the core. We sought escape just like the 65,000 Nepali youth who leave the country every month searching for opportunities beyond our borders. The system was driving us out. We saw and experienced the dysfunction, but stayed silent. We carried the discontent, and accepted it as the norm. That shared silence broke on 8 September 2025. The collective anger was not just towards corruption by politicians and bureaucrats, but the impunity and opacity of the system. The rot at the top infected every level of the state, legitimising and seeping into mundane everyday transactions.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031220_3c4ae462401eb6364ce48bdf79b73b3d6171f391caf78bd7177219d14c730c35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251227031220_3c4ae462401eb6364ce48bdf79b73b3d6171f391caf78bd7177219d14c730c35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="8 September protests"></figure>  The GenZ protest became the turning point. Engulfed by a sense of helplessness, we gathered at Maitighar Mandala that Monday morning to vent our pent up frustration. The protests escalated into a massacre, and then devastating destruction. We needed to channel the rage and remorse into reform, and not deepen the crisis. Our anger was not just directed at the political Troika, but also at the entire culture of impunity and the systemic barriers to progress. We were not alone in this bureaucratic hell, it was a national collective experience. We were saying enough is enough, and we will not accept it anymore. SEEKING A SAVIOUR But here is the thing: we are so so used to heroic stories and movies that end with the protagonist saving all of humanity that we often fall into the trap of looking for a singular saviour in real life as well. Even during this national crisis, we turned to individuals in the hope that they would correct historical wrongs overnight. We conveniently avoided pointing out our own hypocrisy. It was us who vilified the Big Three serial prime ministers for ruining the country, yet here we are expecting one single person to save us all.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031224_47155c550f30fcfbcd34536ae5a1df4008c775d88b49e2998c251ab1ee8e2f5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251227031224_47155c550f30fcfbcd34536ae5a1df4008c775d88b49e2998c251ab1ee8e2f5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu protests"><figcaption>Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption></figure>  In conversations with friends before September, they would be resigned to their fate and would say “यस्तै हो अब देशमा केहि हुँदैन”. We realise now that disengagement is a trap. The more we withdraw, the more we become isolated from the countless people and their active efforts to make this nation better. Hopelessness takes root when good people do nothing and evade their own responsibilities. So, if we can neither rely on a singular hero nor live in a bubble of hopelessness, where does that leave us? It leaves us with each other. In our disillusionment with new saviours, we began to notice a different group of people. These were not leaders on the podium reciting a million promises, but ordinary citizens who made the extraordinary decision to stop waiting and start building. They were the living embodiment of accountability, and we wanted to join in. While we are hopeful and full of ideas, we still lack real-world knowledge to navigate these systemic issues ourselves. This truth hit home during our time with Incubate Nepal, a research program that gave our project, Bureaucrazy, its initial headstart. What began as an eight-week student project quickly revealed its scope as far larger. Bureaucrazy is an AI-enabled platform built voluntarily by us high school graduates led by three female mentors. It was initially designed to help students get two crucial documents (No-objection Certificate and Letter of Equivalence) for education overseas. We were building solutions for our own generation, hoping to smooth a path we had found frustratingly rough. When we took our prototype to the very bureaucrats it was meant to assist, we were met with skepticism.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031224_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251227031224_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2916" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Singha Daraba reconstruction"><figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>  Their reluctance was clear, but it only fueled our determination. Today, Bureaucrazy has evolved beyond its original purpose. By integrating updated AI and expanding our databases, it now answers questions on various bureaucratic processes, from student documents to the ongoing national elections. We are continually updating it, solving problems as they crop up. Being confronted with both our own limitations and systemic inertia was a deeply personal and humbling experience. Corruption stole our roads, our education, our resources, but it did not steal our spirit. Every day, we are more hopeful, not because the problems have vanished, but because we now know with certainty that there are people already at work, patiently and skillfully building a better country. When we work on bureaucrazy.co, when we meet honest bureaucrats, when we talk to young people navigating ways of entrepreneurship, we know that this country is not lost. Maybe we cannot fix everything at once, but we can keep showing up. We can keep building small pockets of hope until they connect into something larger. And one day, living in our Motherland will not feel like a burden that one has to escape, but a place full of possibilities.

Rage in 2025, repair in 2026

Wars and conflicts fundamentally alter landscapes and ecosystems, leaving behind scars that often go unaccounted for amid discussions dominated by human casualties and strategic competition.&nbsp;
Rarely do analyses on wars consider the environment – and there are major conflicts raging across the world at the moment from Ukraine to Gaza to Sudan.
Nature is regarded as an unavoidable collateral of human warfare. Yet, the intersection between conflict and ecology is critical in today’s global polycrisis. This interplay positions the environment not just as the backdrop but as a key variable in geopolitical dynamics.
Framing the environment as a silent victim suggests its passivity during armed conflicts. But the ecological consequences of war are loud and astonishing -- deforestation, pollution, biodiversity loss and fossil fuel use contributing to climate breakdown.
The use of <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/nature01537">Agent Orange in the Vietnam War</a> led to the contamination of over three million hectares of forest, affecting biodiversity, agricultural productivity, and leaving a lasting impact on the health of the people fpr generations.&nbsp;
In <a href="https://unama.unmissions.org/unep-afghanistan-laying-foundations-sustainable-development?utm_source=chatgpt.com">Afghanistan</a>, longstanding conflicts led to a reported 33.8% decline in forest cover in the already-arid country between 1990 and 2005. P<a href="https://news.mongabay.com/2019/07/casualty-of-peace-study-shows-rise-in-deforestation-after-conflicts/">ost-conflict Sri Lanka</a> saw a loss of approximately 188,407 hectares of forest cover.&nbsp;
Wars inject pollutants such as heavy metals, fuel residues, and other toxic substances into the air and water. The burning of 700 Kuwaiti oil wells during the <a href="https://ceobs.org/what-the-environmental-legacy-of-the-gulf-war-should-teach-us/">Gulf War in 1991</a> caused massive air pollution and water contamination that impacted the whole region.&nbsp;
HIMALAYAN HOTSPOT
Human violence is violence against nature, and exacerbates the damage caused during peacetime. In the north-west Himalaya between India and Pakistan, militarisation and climate change depleted 29% of the <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0048969721024475">Machoi glacier</a> between 1972 and 2019.&nbsp;
The China-India border region has seen significant militarisation since the 1962 war, further endangering the fragile ecologies to deforestation, landslides, and glacial lake bursts. The Himalaya is a climate and conflict flashpoint.&nbsp;
Globally, militaries account for <a href="https://climatalk.org/2025/09/15/how-are-wars-affecting-climate-change/#:~:text=The%20overlooked%20carbon%20footprint%20of%20war&amp;text=As%20a%20result%2C%20the%20true,emissions%20of%20the%20defence%20sector.">5.5% of total carbon emissions</a>, making it the fourth-largest emitter. Military spending worldwide reached a staggering <a href="https://breakingdefense.com/2024/04/global-military-spending-hits-all-time-high-of-2-4-trillion-sipri-report/">$2.44 trillion in 2023</a>, dwarfing global climate finance.
And all this does not even take into account the potential impact of an all out, or even regional, nuclear confrontation, the radiation poisoning and planetary winter it would unleash.
The environmental consequences of war and militarisation are barely recognised in traditional international relations theory and praxis. Dominated by realist thinking, global geopolitics prioritises military power and ‘hard’ security over ‘soft’ ecological concerns.&nbsp;
Realist narratives naturalise war as an inevitable reality of the anarchical international system and essentialise military power for states’ survival. They view nature as irrelevant to statecraft, refute ecological casualty, and resource interdependence. Nature remains an afterthought — a resource pit to exploit, rather than an active agent in itself.
International relations therefore not only silence the environmental ramifications of wars but also fail to account for emerging problems posed by planetary limits, transboundary ecological risks, environmental casualties of war, and global interdependence in ecological flows – all of which are inextricably tied to global geopolitics.&nbsp;
These ecological crises, compounded with climate change, transcend national boundaries and individual states’ capabilities. While these may not directly cause conflicts, they are likely to be threat multipliers to potentially worsen existing conflicts and weaken national security and sovereignty.
To better understand the silencing of the environment, we can adopt the constructivist lens to explore how ideas, norms, and discourses shape security narratives in international politics. Contrary to traditional reliance of international relations on power and conflicts as immutable referents, constructivism posits that security and power are socially constructed concepts defined by states’ perceptions of threats.
Thus, traditional international relations has often articulated threats to privilege military and national sovereignty considerations, while neglecting ecological violence. Nature is conceived as a passive resource, a battlefield, or at most, a strategic asset.&nbsp;
This distortion has become the dominant, universal episteme, influencing strategic policies and international law. The state’s constructed identity as the legitimate security provider is intricately tied to militaristic capabilities and not ecological stewardship.&nbsp;
Indeed, dominant global modernisation logic equates progress with resource extraction, crafting a narrative where conflict becomes a tool for resource control, and nature itself becomes a site of contention and competition rather than cooperation.
Critical theory helps demystify the relationship between war and environmental degradation further and explains who benefits from the strategic silencing and invisibilisation of the environment in conflicts.&nbsp;
Tracing the socio-economic and political roots of dominant theories, norms, and practices, critical theory unravels the linkages between capitalism, militarism, and ecological violence. There emerges a deeply capitalistic structural root of the ‘<a href="https://graceblakeley.substack.com/p/the-military-fossil-fuel-complex">military-carbon complex</a>’ which refers to the intricate symbiotic relationship between the military establishment, the defence and the fossil industries, and the resulting environmental destruction.
Militarism actively reproduces ecological violence through arms production and distribution, both heavily fossil fuel dependent. War is a technology that drives the military capitalist order, it becomes a method of stabilising access to and the continued exploitation of carbon-intensive resources.&nbsp;
Conflict necessitates and facilitates the commodification of nature through reckless resource extraction, including minerals, oil, and rare earths. Environmental damage is a feature, not a bug, of militarised capitalism.&nbsp;
Thus, global military actions, strategies, and conflicts perpetuate ecological destruction in the name of national security while serving capitalist interests. To mitigate environmental harm resulting from wars, it is crucial to acknowledge and understand these structural drivers.
Politically constructed concept of ‘security’ must therefore be redefined to encompass ecological and human security, and climate justice. Sovereignty should be reimagined to include ecological health, not only territorial integrity.&nbsp;
Wars must be ‘de-naturalised’ as the historically contingent institutions that they are. There must be a wider recognition that the global triple environmental threats erode the usefulness of Westphalian notions of sovereignty and bounded territoriality.
Robert Mizo, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Political Science and International Relations at the University of Delhi, India. He holds a PhD in Climate Policy studies. He is a Japan Foundation Indo-Pacific Partnership Research Fellow based at the Toda Peace Institute, Tokyo.
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2025/silent-victim-interrogating-the-ecological-implications-of-war.html">the original</a> with permission.

The ecological impact of war

Kazakhstan President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev during an official visit to Japan this weekend met Prime Minister Takaichi and President Tokayev and issued <a href="http://chrome-extension//efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.mofa.go.jp/mofaj/files/100953279.pdf" target="_blank">a joint statement</a> on a ‘future-oriented expanded strategic partnership’.&nbsp; The statement reaffirmed a rules-based international order grounded in the principles of the UN Charter. At the United Nations University in Tokyo, Tokayev delivered a lecture warning that ‘nuclear risks are rising again’. He referred not only to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki but also to Kazakhstan’s Semipalatinsk nuclear test site, where the former Soviet Union conducted more than 450 nuclear tests, arguing that both Japan and Kazakhstan are countries that know the devastating consequences wrought by nuclear weapons.&nbsp; He said practical steps must be steadily accumulated to advance nuclear disarmament and reduce nuclear risk. Tokayev also cited Kazakhstan’s decision to relinquish the nuclear weapons left on its territory after the Soviet collapse, suggesting that security should not depend solely on nuclear deterrence. Kazakhstan has hosted meetings in Astana on 29 August, the date the Semipalatinsk test site was closed and which has been designated the International Day against Nuclear Tests to draw attention to the inhumane impacts of nuclear weapons and call for strengthening norms underpinning the Central Asian Nuclear-Weapon-Free Zone.&nbsp; These gatherings have included participation by civil society groups such as <a href="https://www.icanw.org/" target="_blank">the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN)</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International (SGI)</a>. The two leaders also welcomed plans to launch regular direct flights in 2026 and agreed to begin intergovernmental negotiations toward the conclusion of a bilateral air services agreement. In addition, the joint statement expressed an intent to exchange information and explore potential avenues of cooperation with the UN Regional Centre for the SDGs for Central Asia and Afghanistan, which was established in Almaty. As major powers step up engagement across the region, Central Asia’s weight as a stage for diplomacy and trade has been growing. Leaders of Japan and the five Central Asian states met in Tokyo this weekend for a new Central Asia + Japan Dialogue (CA+JAD).&nbsp; They adopted the '<a href="http://chrome-extension//efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.mofa.go.jp/files/100954362.pdf" target="_blank">Tokyo Declaration,</a>' which places as its core two &nbsp;priorities: strengthening the supply-chain for critical minerals, and supporting <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trans-Caspian_International_Transport_Route" target="_blank">the Trans-Caspian Corridor</a> which links Central Asia with Europe without transiting Russia. Japanese Prime Minister Takaichi said the meeting reflected Central Asia’s strategic importance as a Eurasian crossroad and a region with mineral resources essential for decarbonisation and advanced industries.&nbsp; The Japanese government emphasised a practical, implementation-oriented approach — translating cooperation into deliverable projects. For Central Asian countries, the Trans-Caspian Corridor is also a means to expand transport options and reduce dependence on any single transit route.&nbsp; It can help attract investment for modernising ports, railways and customs systems, while increasing opportunities to capture transit and logistics revenues. For Japan, corridor development and cooperation on critical minerals serve as a form of risk diversification in economic security. Japan aims to prepare for heightened geopolitical risk by diversifying both procurement sources and transport routes for critical minerals such as rare earths and lithium needed for batteries, renewable energy technologies and electronic devices.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251223091244_e77a6e72d9d05c5d060474c94afc21a5fdbca2dd181d4c86c7314a5532b6d5a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251223091244_e77a6e72d9d05c5d060474c94afc21a5fdbca2dd181d4c86c7314a5532b6d5a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="567" loading="lazy" alt="Tokyo summit"> <figcaption>Middle Corridor. Photo: TITR</figcaption> </figure>  At the Dec. 20 summit, President Tokayev attended alongside the presidents of Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan. Prime Minister Takaichi noted that Central Asia’s growing population and rapid economic expansion have raised the region’s international profile, and stressed the importance of regional cooperation and engagement with external partners. Japan announced the CA+JAD Tokyo Initiative, setting out three priority areas for cooperation: (1) green and resilience (including the energy transition, disaster risk reduction and supply-chain resilience for critical minerals); (2) connectivity (including the Trans-Caspian Corridor and A.I. cooperation); and (3) human development (including scholarship programs and cooperation in health and medical fields). The Tokyo Declaration also explicitly set out the launch of the Japan–Central Asia Partnership for AI Cooperation, with a view to applying AI to resource development and related areas.&nbsp; The Tokyo gathering also underscored the reality of accelerating summit diplomacy around Central Asia. China convened a leaders’ meeting with the five Central Asian states in Kazakhstan earlier this year, and the United States invited the same five leaders to Washington in November. Kazakhstan, in particular, has long pursued a “multi-vector” foreign policy—cultivating relations in parallel with competing major powers to preserve sovereignty and strategic options. The Tokyo agreements—combining diversification of transport corridors, expanded cooperation on minerals and technology, and the use of development cooperation through international institutions—align with this balancing strategy.&nbsp; (INPS Japan)

“Nuclear risks are rising again”

One thing is certain. The killers of Osman Hadi are celebrating today. Things could not have worked out better for them. His killing accomplished three interrelated goals: The first was the removal from the scene of a charismatic, uncompromising, and incorruptible voice of the July Uprising from the political firmament. Whether one was a fan of Osman Hadi or not, one could not question his integrity or his commitment or his willingness to speak truth to power, including to his erstwhile comrades. While so many of the July revolutionaries had become compromised or corrupted in one way or another, and are on the fast track to nowhere but political oblivion, he stood out as the kind of young leader that could have been at the forefront of building a new Bangladesh. For those who would rather see Bangladesh burn to ashes than see it rise up under any rule but their own, he was a mortal threat. He was exactly the kind of leader that could provide a threat to the old order, and that is why he had to be eliminated. The second goal of his killing was to show that the enemies of the July Uprising are not dead yet and that there is still plenty of fight left in them. They have shown very eloquently that their enemies are neither safe nor beyond their reach, and that, even after 18 months, they can still operate with impunity. The message has been delivered loud and clear. If Hadi can be killed and his killers sequestered beyond the reach of justice, then building a new Bangladesh is going to be a long, hard slog, and we are going to remain under enemy fire every step of the way. But it is the third goal that is the most salient: the setting on fire of the Daily Star and Prothom Alo offices was exactly the kind of response his killers wanted to elicit. The burning down of the two newspaper offices sent an entirely different message, one that only served the interest of his killers. It showed that Bangladesh is a country of mob rule and insecurity, ruled by a government that, when push comes to shove, cannot protect its people and whose writ does not extend to the streets. It showed that the press is today less free and less safe than it was under the 15 years of Awami League repression. Indeed, the irony is that these two newspapers were considered Public Enemy Number 1 and Number 2 by Sheikh Hasina who spent 15 years trying to destroy them. No one would be more gratified by the assault on them than her. Finally, it showed that Bangladesh is a tinderbox, with law and order hanging by a thread, where anything can happen at any time to anyone. This is precisely what Hadi’s killers hoped to accomplish. For them, it was a bases loaded grand slam (to borrow baseball terminology, because there is no cricket term that quite fits the bill).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251221031220_74915a5c201ccb3a38ddc2156dd9439df22c7a662d311ee87ad3fe2ff0a6d9d8.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251221031220_74915a5c201ccb3a38ddc2156dd9439df22c7a662d311ee87ad3fe2ff0a6d9d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2564" height="1344" loading="lazy" alt="osman hadi"><figcaption>Osman Hadi</figcaption></figure>  The deeper game was to derail the elections in February and to portray Bangladesh as a hotbed of militancy and instability, thereby giving credence to the narrative of the past eighteen months that had been hammered home by Indian media and social media since Hasina was ousted. From the very day of Hasina’s fleeing, the AL and its allies in the Indian media and social media had tried to paint a picture of Bangladesh descending into a Hobbesian nightmare of chaos and violence that was utterly at odds with the reality on the ground. After a rocky start due to the fact that the police force has largely disappeared and the nation’s administration lay in shambles, the interim government was able to pick up the reins and quietly bring something resembling normalcy back to the country. It was far from perfect, with the courts packed with spurious cases against the innocent and the economy still fragile from the decade and a half of looting and cronyism that the AL had bequeathed to them, but the law and order situation, with some notable and glaring exceptions such as the destruction of Road 32, was slowly brought under control. One week ago, there was no reason to think that we were not on course for elections on February 12 or that the interim government would be unable to deliver them. Now, everything stands in confusion. And this is exactly what Hadi’s killers wanted. Hadi wanted elections. He believed in the electoral process. He believed in democracy. He was running for election in Dhaka-8. He believed in the slow, painstaking process of building a new Bangladesh and knew there could be no short-cuts. He talked about this all the time. If we wish to honor his memory, let us make sure that nothing on Earth comes between us and this election on February 12. The only people who gain from elections being derailed are the Awami League and the rightist parties and elements in society who know they can never win an election or come to power through democratic means. If elections are delayed or derailed, then they win. The only way out for Bangladesh, the only way forward, the only way to deliver us from the current instability is to hold the elections as scheduled. This is what the Bangladeshi people want and this is what the country needs. And now we must all come together to make sure that it happens. The only people who benefit from elections being delayed are the enemies of the Bangladeshi people. Elections delayed means more instability, more space for atrocity, and more scope for violence to take hold. We have already reached the very edge of how long we can survive without an elected government in place. Elections delayed beyond February could be the end of us. Now is the time to bury our differences and join hands, and show that Bangladesh is still the great country that won its Liberation through bitter war in 1971 and overthrew a dictator in a people’s revolution in 2024, and that we stand together, and that together we will forge a future and create a country worthy of our martyrs, of whom Hadi is now one. Let us honor the memory of our fallen brother by ensuring that his death will not divide us and provide aid and comfort to his killers and their allies. Let us honor his memory by giving back to the people their long suppressed voice on February 12, 2026. Zafar Sobhan is the Editor of <a href="https://counterpointbd.com/we-cannot-let-osman-hadis-killers-win" target="_blank">Counterpoint</a>, where this opinion piece first appeared.

Bangladesh on edge ahead of polls

Three incidents in one week: a detained traveller in Shanghai, a revived claim on Sindh, and a currency note from Kathmandu, reveal a South Asia where small symbols now carry the weight of territorial claims. The danger lies not in armies but in imaginations sharpened into weapons.&nbsp;
It began without spectacle, as many troubles in the subcontinent often do: quietly, almost indifferently, as though history were clearing its throat. A week steeped in a kind of comic solemnity, its events unfolding with the grave absurdity of men arguing over shadows cast on an old, uneven map. One could almost hear the creaking of history’s machinery, answering its own summons, as if reluctant to surrender its favourite mischiefs.
The first murmur, faint but unmistakable, came from Shanghai, where a young woman from Arunachal Pradesh found herself <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c8e9kz127w0o" target="_blank">detained</a> beneath the cold fluorescence of an airport hall. Chinese officials questioned her not-so-gently, an initiation into that peculiar fraternity of those whose identities are disputed not because of who they are, but because of where the lines on someone else’s map would prefer them to be.
And barely had that echo settled when <a href="https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/sindh-may-return-to-india-rajnath-singhs-borders-may-change-remark-9686581" target="_blank">India’s Defence Minister</a>, with the ease of a man accustomed to speaking into the certainties of a friendly crowd, remarked that “Sindh may return to India one day.” He said it with the offhand confidence of a politician who knows mythic geography plays well at home.&nbsp;
But the remark, dropped into the region’s already crowded pool of dreams, loyalties, and inherited grievances, spread outward in ripples – provoking <a href="https://www.telegraphindia.com/world/islamabad-labels-rajnath-singhs-sindh-remarks-delusional-and-expansionist/cid/2134548#goog_rewarded" target="_blank">denunciations</a>, apprehensions, and that familiar tightening of breath that accompanies any suggestion that the past might yet attempt a resurrection. In Pakistan, the words landed not as rhetoric but as portent, dredging up every anxiety sharpened by partition, war, and the belief that memory in South Asia, once stirred, is never quite satiated.
Then Nepal, with its quiet talent for announcing its displeasures through objects rather than declarations, unveiled its <a href="https://www.business-standard.com/external-affairs-defence-security/news/nepal-issues-100-bank-note-with-revised-map-comprising-disputed-areas-125112700551_1.html" target="_blank">new currency notes</a>: each one bearing the imprint of its 2020 political map.&nbsp;
<a href="https://nepalforeignaffairs.com/authenticity-of-lipulekh-border-pass/" target="_blank">Lipulekh, Kalapani, Limpiyadhura</a> – names that have become ritual incantations in the theatre of Himalayan disputes, contested frontiers now printed in neat, official ink. The release was explained as routine. Nothing in this region is ever routine. The moment a boundary is drawn on money, it becomes more than a border. It becomes an assertion, a reminder, a pre-emptive negotiation.
Three events, scattered like windblown leaves across the subcontinent’s restless topography. None catastrophic, none decisive, yet each carrying the faint odour of things unresolved, things forgotten until the moment they are not.&nbsp;
The humour is thin, the unease is thick. They were small gestures: a passport, a proclamation, a banknote, but in South Asia, small gestures have a way of expanding into quarrels no one quite intended and no one quite knows how to end.
Beneath these small episodes lies the harder truth. The subcontinent has slipped into an era where symbols, not armies, do the fighting. Maps, murals, visas, banknotes, toponyms, remarks: each now carries the weight that artillery once did. The provocations are miniature, the meanings are immense. And the region reacts to each with a suspicion that borders on reflex.
China understands this vulnerability better than anyone and does not need to invent South Asia’s sensitivities. It merely needs to press on the ones that already exist. China’s refusal to accept an Arunachal Pradesh passport is not clerical fussiness, it is a demonstration of a worldview.&nbsp;
By turning a lone traveller into a pawn of territorial narrative, <a href="https://www.newsweek.com/china-india-arunachal-pradesh-zangnan-tibet-territorial-dispute-1884895" target="_blank">Beijing enforces its claim to “South Tibet”</a> without firing a shot, and normalises its cartographic imagination through mundane encounters, where the humiliation is individual but the message is national.
It is sovereignty-by-bureaucracy, a slow, grinding assertion that does not need tanks to leave a bruise. The frontier now lives in the immigration cubicle, not just the mountain pass.
India’s '<a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/sindh-may-return-to-india-rajnath-says-borders-can-change-cites-civilisational-link/articleshow/125520334.cms" target="_blank">Sindh may return</a>' remark sits at the opposite pole. It neither denies the sovereignty of others nor confines itself within current boundaries. Instead, it breathes life into an older geography, one that extends far beyond India’s present outline. For Delhi, this is heritage. For Pakistan, heresy. For the region, it is another sign of a political climate in which myth, memory, and maps are all too easily woven into public rhetoric. And rhetoric, once spoken, becomes the shadow of intent.
Nepal’s cartographic gesture is its own form of resistance. It asserts that <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/CH-09-South-Asias-Strategic-Edge_TEKWANI-SAMPATH_10.71236CSFU4789.pdf" target="_blank">small states</a>, too, possess symbolic weapons. A currency note bearing a disputed frontier is not merely a piece of paper, it is a refusal. And refusal, in South Asia, quickly acquires the density of principle.
To understand why these gestures resonate so forcefully, one must return to the deeper architecture on which they fall. The subcontinent carries not one historical geography but three. There is the civilisational past: epics, empires, pilgrimage routes, whose outlines stretch far beyond the borders of modern sovereignty. There is the colonial cartography layered atop it, drawn hurriedly and indifferently by men who never intended to inhabit the lands they demarcated. And there is the postcolonial state, fragile in identity and jealous of territory, inheriting maps it never drew and histories it cannot fully escape.
GEOGRAPHIES COLLIDE
Where these three geographies collide, symbols expand. A remark becomes a blueprint. A detention becomes a claim. A banknote becomes an argument.&nbsp;
All this might have been manageable had the region built institutions strong enough to absorb the shocks. But South Asia built almost none. SAARC remains an empty frame. Meanwhile, India’s crucial bilateral ties, like those with Nepal and Bangladesh, oscillate wildly with the whims of domestic politics. No mechanism exists to catch the fallout of symbolic friction before it hardens into political posture.
This vulnerability is most pronounced around India, which, as the region’s largest power, sits at the centre of the <a href="https://www.hindustantimes.com/india/rss-calls-akhand-bharat-a-cultural-concept-not-a-political-one/story-EcuzYTNZHpqENlmawbPYYP.html" target="_blank">symbolic storm</a>. New Delhi’s own symbolic gestures, often framed as cultural heritage or historical homage presented with a wink, are increasingly read by its neighbours as strategic ambitions cloaked in the language of civilisational memory.&nbsp;
The recent mural of <a href="https://www.tbsnews.net/features/panorama/akhand-bharat-whats-map-645286" target="_blank">Akhand Bharat</a> in the new Parliament building is a case in point. The mural’s outline, invoking a civilisational geography stretching across today’s neighbouring sovereign states, was never going to remain a cultural gesture alone. Imagined maps, however metaphorical, cast <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2023/06/13/india/india-akhand-bharat-map-parliament-intl-hnk#:~:text=To%20India's%20neighbors%2C%20%E2%80%9CAkhand%20Bharat,according%20to%20The%20Kathmandu%20Post." target="_blank">real shadows</a>.
And the ripples did not take long to appear. Nepal hardened its cartography. As a smaller state with a long history of negotiating Indian influence, Kathmandu often has to turn to symbolic gestures to assert its autonomy. The idea of ‘Greater Nepal’, referring to <a href="http://www.historyjournal.net/article/42/2-2-17-612.pdf" target="_blank">pre-Sugauli Treaty boundaries</a> that once stretched into what is now Indian territory, surfaces periodically, not necessarily because the government seeks territorial revision, but because symbols offer a way to resist the gravitational pull of an imperious neighbor.
In <a href="https://www.aa.com.tr/en/asia-pacific/bangladesh-seeks-explanation-over-indias-new-parliament-map/2914993#:~:text=In%20late%20May%2C%20Indian%20Prime%20Minister%20Narendra,*%20Bangladesh%20*%20Sri%20Lanka%20*%20Myanmar" target="_blank">Dhaka</a>, where anxieties over the <a href="https://blogs.library.columbia.edu/global-studies/2020/12/10/citizenship-amendment-act-caa-and-national-register-of-citizens-nrc/" target="_blank">National Register of Citizens (NRC)</a>, and <a href="https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/bangladeshi-migrants-are-like-termites-amit-shah/article25017064.ece" target="_blank">recent rhetoric around migration</a> are never far from the surface, the mural was seen by many commentators not as a cultural artefact, but as a visual echo of a political rhetoric that questions the very legitimacy of post-Partition borders.
China, perceptive and opportunistic, seized on the atmosphere to escalate its own symbolic manoeuvres. Every Indian invocation of civilisational memory becomes another opening for Beijing to apply pressure. China, too, draws from its own civilisational memory in framing the border question. Its claim over Arunachal Pradesh rests not only on strategic logic but on a narrative that casts the region as historically tied to Tibet.
The <a href="https://www.scmp.com/news/china/politics/article/3310209/china-reasserts-india-border-claims-fresh-list-standard-place-names" target="_blank">renaming of towns</a>, the issuing of <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/world/what-are-stapled-visas-that-china-has-been-issuing-to-citizens-of-india-1242356.html" target="_blank">stapled visas</a>, and the symbolic <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-66892705" target="_blank">refusal to stamp Indian passports</a> from the state are all actions that gesture toward a deeper historical claim. Each is designed less to provoke than to remind: a steady drumbeat that keeps the dispute perpetually alive. It is a strategy of perpetual, low-grade friction, one mirrored in different forms by nearly every state in the region. In such an ecosystem, symbols do not travel alone. They accumulate, accrete and attach themselves to <a href="https://frontline.thehindu.com/world-affairs/south-asia-anti-india-sentiments-rise-in-neighbourhood-bangaldesh-sri-lanka-nepal-maldives/article68049487.ece" target="_blank">older injuries.</a> They become the whisper that prefaces the quarrel.
The danger is not a conventional war. The danger is something more insidious: symbolic escalation without restraint, without vocabulary, without exit.
Trust erodes quietly. Diplomacy shrinks to damage control. Domestic politics grows drunk on manufactured outrage. External powers deepen their footholds. Negotiation becomes surrender. The symbolic becomes structural. What begins as an irritant becomes orthodoxy. And orthodoxy, once declared, becomes unalterable.
South Asia has survived wars, partitions, insurgencies, and occupations. What it may not survive is the constant abrasion of its <a href="https://www.sas.upenn.edu/~dludden/Sjoshi04.htm#:~:text=The%20region%20continues%20to%20be%20configured%20through,and%20most%20powerful%20state%20in%20the%20region." target="_blank">own imagination</a>.&nbsp;
A map becomes an accusation. A mural becomes a warning. A passport becomes a verdict. A remark becomes prophecy. The politics of small hurts calcifies into the politics of large anxieties. And every actor, large or small, finds itself boxed in by its own symbols.
Somewhere, in the fluorescence of another airport hall, a young woman stands again before an officer who informs her that her identity belongs elsewhere, that her map is incorrect, that her belonging has been misfiled in the registry of another nation. She does not know that she is the site of a quarrel larger than herself. She does not need to. Her uncertainty is enough to sustain it. She is not the crisis. She is merely its silhouette.
The crisis is the map in his mind. And the larger maps behind him, painted, printed, circulated, applauded, contested, and consecrated across a region that cannot decide whether its borders are memories or mandates. Until the subcontinent learns to treat symbols with discipline rather than indulgence, it will remain at war with itself, not through armies but through shadows.
And shadows, once they begin to move, rarely stop where one expects.
Shyam Tekwani is a professor and columnist specialising in security affairs. This article first appeared in <a href="https://thewire.in/south-asia/when-maps-begin-to-move" target="_blank">The Wire</a>.

Guest Editorial

When maps move

The Diaspora Diaries series in Nepali Times over the past four years has profiled people on the move, so it is fitting that the theme for this year’s International Migrants Day on 18 December is My Great Story: Cultures and Development. The past 75 episodes of Diaspora Diaries have featured inspiring stories of Nepalis -- their trials and tribulations, accomplishments and aspirations. The people and decisions they made, the talents they nurtured. The odds were stacked against them in Nepal, and moving offered a way out. By sharing their stories, we became part of their journeys. And they, part of ours. The image marking 75 stories is symbolic: migrants holding the mic and sharing stories in their own words. Stories have the power of influencing narratives, and this is particularly relevant in the migration discourse that is vulnerable to populism, misguided representations and myths. Stories help broaden the understanding of the migration experience: not as reductive binaries of good or bad, and of heroes or victims. We caught up with some of the people profiled in Diaspora Diaries to see how they are doing. Had they finally decided to come home? Were their children now migrants? How is their business back in Nepal faring? Will they stay, or will they leave again? We know Bipin Joshi through fragments of memory from his friends. Nepal waited for his safe return, but heard that as a hostage he did not survive Israel’s war on Gaza. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-nepali-s-lucky-escape-from-hamas" target="_blank">Nischal Pandey</a>, one of the Nepali students who survived the 7 October 2023 Hamas attack is now working on his Master’s in Nepal. Also in Israel, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-nepal-to-israel?%2F=" target="_blank">Prabha Ghimire</a> worked as a caregiver, and returned to Nepal after 19 years when her 101-year-old employer died.&nbsp; We call migration to the GCC and Malaysia ‘temporary’, but many of those profiled are still there after decades. Homnath Giri was featured in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2-2a0bh9b7" target="_blank">very second Diaspora Diaries in 2022</a>, and has been working in Kuwait for 21 years in companies where as managing he prioritises the recruitment of Nepalis.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_25e2a8490138c9fd6d6b1d74851668cec227b516dbde6c953ac943f0efdca7e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251218161248_25e2a8490138c9fd6d6b1d74851668cec227b516dbde6c953ac943f0efdca7e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Nischal Pandey, Prabha Ghimire, Homnath Giri</figcaption> </figure>  When we called up <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind" target="_blank">Ishwar Chaulagain</a> who has country-hopped Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and Seychelles, and half-jokingly asked him: “Which country are you in now?” He was in Kuwait, his house in Nepal is now built, and he has earned a dual diploma online. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/painting-a-bright-future?%2F" target="_blank">Bhim Bishwakarma</a> the caregiver-cum-artist has been in Bahrain for 18 years, and was back in Morang recently to get married. Coffee aficionado <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado" target="_blank">Laxmi Timilsina</a> got promoted to assistant manager in Qatar, and said that his life feels complete after bringing his family to Doha and being blessed with a baby girl. UAE-based artist <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-world-of-a-working-artist" target="_blank">Jeevit Khadka</a> is preparing to publish his collection of poetry धागो (Thread).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_4382aca0661b8383b4ecc94ddb929e78bf6e9f64f1e21ac20b255c3fe7fe3d27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251218161248_4382aca0661b8383b4ecc94ddb929e78bf6e9f64f1e21ac20b255c3fe7fe3d27" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Laxmi Prasad Timilsina, Ishwar Chaulagain, Jeevit Khadka</figcaption> </figure>  But how un-returnable has this country been made that people stay on for decades? Migrants tell us that there is always a reason to postpone returning.&nbsp; There is also an increasing trend among Nepalis abroad to start their own side businesses or use where they are as a launch pad for onward migration. Singer <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/song-of-work-and-freedom" target="_blank">Ashik Shrestha</a> started his own lounge with friends in the UAE where he performs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life" target="_blank">Aliza Basnet</a> who was working in the UAE when we interviewed her has now taken her bakery skills to the UK. Trailblazers continue to trail blaze. Shanti Bhandari who drives a double-decker tourism bus in the UAE has now obtained a truck license, always an interest to her. Turkey-based <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-to-turkey-and-onwards" target="_blank">Shyam Kala Rai</a> has not yet opened her Nepali restaurant given the economic climate. Since sharing her story in 2021 about her sacrifices for her children, her daughter has graduated as a nurse in Australia, and her son now works as a chef at <a href="https://www.instagram.com/quickchina/?hl=en" target="_blank">QuickChina</a> in Turkey.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_795375e8b6d4239501c53e122d4e7c9b747b7ad9f0b94f2c5b0bcc2d25dc0bb0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251218161248_795375e8b6d4239501c53e122d4e7c9b747b7ad9f0b94f2c5b0bcc2d25dc0bb0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Ashik Shrestha, Aliza Basnet, Shyam Kala Rai</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/fate-joins-then-separates-siblings" target="_blank">Anil Shrestha</a> was in Malta with his brother Ajay who died in a bike accident in 2022. Anil recently got married and has returned to Nepal, and is questioning the decision given poor employment prospects. The family still mourns Ajay’s death and has not yet received accident compensation.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-4-xprqcf4x" target="_blank">Sajita Lama</a>, who was abused as a domestic worker in Lebanon, has still not recovered her unpaid wages of 10 years of work. The importance of compensation after mishaps in foreign employment is evident in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank">Antare Khatri’s</a> case. He continues to receive benefits from Malaysia’s Social Security Organisation (SOCSO) after losing his hand in a workplace accident. Recently, one of his sons went to Malaysia and the other to what he refers as “ठुलो देश”, Greece. UAE returnee <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf" target="_blank">Dalbir Singh Baraili</a> has also passed the migration baton to his children who are now in the UK. While survival is manageable with earnings in Nepal, he says covering weddings, large expenses for festivals and illnesses puts a strain on finances. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-saudi-to-sauji" target="_blank">Rudra Sapkota</a> &nbsp;sold his vegetable shop in Nepal and is enjoying a retired life, watching cricket, going on morning walks. “It’s not that bad,” he reckons. After spending 30 years in Saudi Arabia, his sons are now in Canada and Dubai.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_f0921c2d4efe94da7614009e3582444c02fc49611e3eab91eef7c8713cc2eb11.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20251218161248_f0921c2d4efe94da7614009e3582444c02fc49611e3eab91eef7c8713cc2eb11" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Sajita Lama, Antari Khatri, Dalbir Singh Baraili, Rudra Sapkota</figcaption> </figure>  Narratives like how remittances are not used productively are often part of public discourse in Nepal. But what is the measure of productive investment?&nbsp; Without remittances, some families struggled to even eat or send children to a decent school. Migrants have used savings to retire parents to a concrete house, or save enough to pay for medical costs to save the lives of close relatives.&nbsp; Migration needs to be viewed through a wider lens — a continuum that stretches across generations. The rewards of today’s investment may come much later in better human capital, health and migration outcomes of the descendants of migrant workers who can afford to go to university.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218081232_f0806f595d09cbf52193476c6a150b38faab0b32ef36d43e7f7c9eae8d15517f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20251218081232_f0806f595d09cbf52193476c6a150b38faab0b32ef36d43e7f7c9eae8d15517f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="2364" loading="lazy" alt="DD Migrant's Day"> </figure>  UPS AND DOWNS Some Diaspora Diaries stories are on returnee entrepreneurs, and the common sentiment is that Nepal’s economy is not conducive to business. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/proud-to-give-back-to-nepal" target="_blank">Prakash Katuwal’s Turkish restaurant</a> in Kathmandu is doing well, he is now a celebrity chef of sorts with wide engagement on social media, and he also is part of a cooking show. “I am still a simple man and do dishes till 1AM every night,” he says. Factory owner <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/cut-from-a-different-cloth" target="_blank">Krishna Timilsina</a> has expanded to start the clothing store Looga Ghar, while expanding presence internationally through exports and registering a tailoring and boutique branch in Japan. Chiyaspot owner <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya?fbclid=IwAR3lAnpyoOKTvyb9ekXulEcPzzZCfBmLYLZq950Bv6ElccPHVPM2175ABeI" target="_blank">Gautam Guvaju</a> has also started a new Chiyaspot branch, and has come out of his shell on social media where he shares his journey and inspires youth.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_f1dcf2b4829dec0a94f1a2dfbc364baeffbe94c33b2fdf720326f9b4f6921336.jpg" data-media-id="editor_24" data-image-id="20251218161248_f1dcf2b4829dec0a94f1a2dfbc364baeffbe94c33b2fdf720326f9b4f6921336" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Prakash Katuwal, Gautam Guvaju, Krishna Timilsina</figcaption> </figure>  The trio Korean returnees <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-korea-s-prosperity-to-nepal?%5C" target="_blank">Shahadev Gurung, Prabin Shrestha and Dil Bahadur Tamang</a> have expanded their meat shop including a new branch, and a small Korean restaurant. The nine returnees who set up <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/returnees-prosper-together" target="_blank">Chef Burger</a> team have opened their eighth burger outlet in Tinchuli. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-korea-s-prosperity-to-nepal?%5C" target="_blank">Prabin Shrestha</a> recently completed meat processing training in Korea, and his supplier and another returnee Sushil Lama received funds from the Nepal government to expand and upgrade their pig farm.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_28" data-image-id="20251218161248_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Dil Bahadur Tamang, Prabin Shrestha, Shahadev Gurung</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home" target="_blank">Sunil Bhujel</a> came back from Qatar and UAE to expand his maintenance business to road construction. Qatar, Dubai and Seychelles returnee <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-just-financial-but-social-remittances" target="_blank">Shiva Sharan Khatri</a> has added a resort in Chandragiri in addition to his facilities management business. Business fluctuates, rent does not. This can spell trouble especially for small businesses. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal" target="_blank">Babare Bomjon</a>, who runs Akbare Momo, says shrinking demand has made him rethink his venture. He is looking to pivot to his own property-based business model because rent is unmanageable particularly when business goes up and down. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/money-is-not-everything-but-you-need-money-for-everything" target="_blank">Burger Shack owner Rohit Shrestha</a> is also facing upheavals, but has added bakery products, including bagels. After returning to Nepal from Qatar and Saudi Arabia, poet <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport" target="_blank">Mahendra Thulung Rai</a> also feels the pressure of rent for his venture, Purbeli restaurant. He is still writing poetry, but considers re-migrating because of the cost of living and doing business in Nepal. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_af308219333b582d4f8d00abb326041c0beb60a4d427633099948fb4582391b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_34" data-image-id="20251218161248_af308219333b582d4f8d00abb326041c0beb60a4d427633099948fb4582391b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Sunil Bhujel, Rohit Shrestha, Mahendra Thulung Rai</figcaption> </figure>  Three years ago, when we spoke to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-letters-to-landlines-phones-to-facebook" target="_blank">Tilu Sharma</a>, who has been in Qatar for 21 years, there was a debate about allowing overseas Nepalis to vote in the 2022 elections. He repeated what he told us three years ago: “Our notes work, our votes don’t”.&nbsp; With elections due in March 2026, whether out-of-country voting is allowed or not, narratives around migration will matter even more than before. Candidates will use campaign slogans like “बिदेशको पसिना” and “बाध्यता” to portray migration as a result of state failure. With few exceptions, stories shared by migrants largely show the absence of practical initiatives to help them in their journeys. Nepalis are leaving silently, returning silently.&nbsp; A recently released government report showed that the number of migrant workers returning via Kathmandu airport crossed half a million each year in the past two years. Why have they returned? What factors would make them remain and use their skills here?&nbsp; Temporary migration should be alleviating concerns of both the migrant origin country like Nepal that can mobilise returnees who have added financial and social capital, and that of the host countries that fight with their own increasing anti-immigrant sentiments despite migrant contributions in unfilled vacancies. The Diaspora Diaries network has also helped to improve migration. Rohit, Shiva and Tilak, for example, have provided guest lectures to young Nepalis headed out in entry level positions in the hospitality sector — just as they had decades ago.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218161248_d4a765af759fbf68450364cc04f8f291b6e4fdd0eec20b80d99f921bf60e6bfc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_36" data-image-id="20251218161248_d4a765af759fbf68450364cc04f8f291b6e4fdd0eec20b80d99f921bf60e6bfc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="75 DDs"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari, Tilu Sharma</figcaption> </figure>  When abroad, the three have been responsible for interviews and promotions on behalf of their employers. Discussing practical and enabling factors for successful careers and post-return plans while talking about struggles ahead was helpful.&nbsp; Why does this matter? Because we want outgoing candidates to reimagine migration and see how they can maximise its gains. No matter whether they were pushed or pulled (or both) no matter their backgrounds and the opportunities they have had access to growing up, by the time they get on the plane in Kathmandu, how do they make the most of this experience? Each Diaspora Diaries story ends abruptly, but the lives of those profiled carries on. Will the UK provide better special education services for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/i-felt-like-i-was-born-to-be-a-nurse" target="_blank">Alpana’s son</a>? How will <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal" target="_blank">Babare Bomjon</a> come out of the slump in his momo business? What is next for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-nepal-to-israel?%2F=" target="_blank">Prabha</a> in Nepal after 19 years away? When will <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/enslaved-nepali-migrant-worker-rebuilds-her-life" target="_blank">Sajita</a> and Ashish finally get their owed dues. We continue to search for contact details of the anonymous returnee from Malaysia and Qatar from the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1-33trp2ou" target="_blank">very first Diaspora Diary in January 2022</a> – the migrant worker who inspired us to write this series.&nbsp; Upasana Khadka heads Migration Lab, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times. The past 75 episodes of Diaspora Diaries series can be accessed through <a href="https://nepalitimes.com">site search</a>, or by clicking the hyperlinks above.

Upasana Khadka

Labour Mobility

Our great stories

My nephew watched in rapt attention as the slides, telling the story of Lysan, shifted on the screen before him. For those few minutes, the noise and chaos in the massive hall, packed with children and their parents at the book launch event, became obscured and only the story became foregrounded. And in that moment, I felt exactly as my nephew might have—being found by the feeling of wonderment and enchantment. Lysan, a children’s book illustrated by Kanchan Burathoki and written by Sandra van Doesburg was launched in Kathmandu in August, along with other books produced by Van Doesburg Creative Works. The set included Namaste, a high contrast book for infants, Are You a Snow Leopard?, two part set book and workbook, and Mijok’s Trip, a children’s illustrated novel by Niranjan Kunwar. Lysan is the story of the longing to belong. Lysan is a creature, half eagle, half rhino. She has wings and talons and tough and rugged skin and a horn. Lysan wishes she didn’t look as she does and wonders if the way she looks is why her friends look at her differently. She has difficulty opening up to her friends because she is different and she wants to be seen for who she is, but has little confidence. It isn’t until she meets someone quite like her that she is able to look inward and appreciate her true self. Whose story does “Lysan” tell? Of each one of us. Although the story appears like a simple children’s story about someone who thinks herself a misfit, the meaning goes much deeper. And in that, it transcends the narrative aimed at children and speaks to people in different age groups. “When I was writing the business plan to set up Van Doesburg Creative Works and working on my first two books, Namaste and Are You a Snow Leopard?, one of my friends in Switzerland, Lys, suggested we create a story centered around biracial children since both of us, and now our kids, are biracial,” explains the writer, Sandra Shiwani van Doesburg, who is also an HR professional. “Her son and mine were born during Covid, and I was eager to explore that experience.” “I wanted to capture the universal childhood feeling of being different. It did not have to be about race or culture alone; it could mean anything to anyone,” Sandra says. Sandra wrote the book in English, and it was translated into the German by Micro Drewes. She needed to work with an illustrator, so she reached out to Kanchan Burathoki, with whom she was already working on Are You a Snow Leopard?. Kanchan and Sandra go back to their boarding school days at Budanilkantha, and so between the two friends, Kanchan immediately understood the soul of Lysan. And thus, the Rhino-Eagle who loves running and then flying, came into being. “As our lives evolved into motherhood, we reconnected deeply and creatively. Kanchan is truly magical with her illustrations,” says Sandra. “With her fine arts background and experience running a graphic design business, she intuitively understood not only illustration but also book production.” Lysan isn’t just a confused, solitary being. Her character is full. When she sees a new creature, she says: “Let’s mush that ICKY THING!”. There’s no attempt here on the writer’s part to create a protagonist who is only good. Every time we get to this page while re-reading Lysan, my nephew laughs. Lysan’s face speaks! The other characters in the book are just as quirky as Lysan. There are the lynx who are also narwhal and there are the pangolin who are also falcon. And there’s Wormfishly, who’s a worm and fish and a fly at the same time.&nbsp; The animals featured in the book are some of the endangered species from Nepal, the Philippines, Switzerland, Thailand, and Austria, the countries close to the creators’ hearts. A mood board describing the colour palette for illustrations and a specific narrative on each character was first prepared. “I didn’t want human characters, and so through anthropomorphism, I wanted the story to feel universally relatable,” Sandra adds. For a decade now, I’ve been one of my nephew’s bedtime story readers. And over the years, we’ve read many books together, exploring all kinds of scenarios and landscapes together, laughing, sighing and sometimes, smiling as we shut the book.&nbsp; Reading Lysan was a repeat of that act, as we followed the beautiful landscape with our eyes, the blue sky, spotted with clouds, the greenery and the cuteness of the characters. The imaginary land Kanchan visualises, is the kind one wants to be inside. Here, magical hybrid creatures become part of a moving world. As an adult reading Lysan, I’ve felt moved by it every time, as it transports me back to my childhood, where I too felt like a misfit—wishing I looked different, spoke differently, and even felt differently. The curious thing about this feeling is that it barely wears out even as we outgrow innocence.&nbsp; The feeling keeps burrowing into new forms and faces as we step into adulthood, and often we are the ones who leave a party early, who are unable to show up for dates with friends, who sit and spend hours staring at the sky for no reason, who refuse to wear a certain shirt because the texture feels too queasy, or who leave a drink untouched because its colour reminds us of something unpleasant. Each one of us is made up of loads of these feelings and things. Some of us are made of other things, but just as interesting or uninteresting to the others. And so each one of us is whole, each one “ALL ME inside”, as Lysan says. But in the crowd we might be pressured to blend, even if it means pulling on a mask and taking cues from friends and family.&nbsp; At some point in life those differences start to make sense and we understand that in being unlike others, each one of us is original and thus contribute to the huge map that makes this world as magical as it is. That’s what the story of Lysan is about. Over the weeks, I’ve read the book to my nephew a couple of times and every time, he approaches it with new light and love. To borrow Sandra’s own words: “The best stories are simple but open to multiple interpretations. What you take from a story might not be what I take, and that’s beautiful.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215041232_b4c946acbee0b09fe977beab5f24042afa0717c85c3de857cbf744c78842f103.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251215041232_b4c946acbee0b09fe977beab5f24042afa0717c85c3de857cbf744c78842f103" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Lysan book details NT"> </figure>

Pratibha Tuladhar

Suburban Tales

All me inside: a story about flight

Everyone in the world is running some kind of race. Some chase recognition. Some chase money. Others run simply to stay ahead of others. But there are some who run for others. They are not trying to overtake anyone, they do not do it for fame, they are not getting paid to do it. But they run to pay for the upliftment of those less privileged. Bal Joshi, 41, is originally from Surkhet. His father was involved in the democratic movement during the days of absolute monarchy and he remembers frequent police searches of the house. And with his father in hiding, the young Joshi had to take care of the family. When the family’s small shop failed, his mother took the young Bal and his brother back to the village, and that is where he completed his education, walking four hours roundtrip every day between home and school. He ran most of the way, and without realising it he has been running ever since. Life was hard. Rent, food, education. His mother struggled constantly. There were days when there was no money even to buy kerosene for the stove. At one point, he sold his calculator, worth Rs 300, for just Rs 80 to get by.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251229031252_edb16b64a3d362a8dc86870bfa5deaad03a84e67d47f37cfd0bb5a8e584691fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251229031252_edb16b64a3d362a8dc86870bfa5deaad03a84e67d47f37cfd0bb5a8e584691fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Running for dear life NT"> </figure>  At 15, Joshi moved to Nepalganj to continue his education. He initially stayed with his uncles, but eventually began living on his own. The transition to city life was difficult, and he experienced significant economic hardship while trying to pursue his studies. There were times when he struggled to meet basic needs, and at one point he sold his calculator just to get by. When he was 17, after hearing that his father was seriously ill, Joshi travelled to Gujarat to bring him back home. His father died soon after, and Joshi took on responsibility for supporting his family. It was his mother who taught him that despite scarcity, life had to be lived with dignity. Joshi started working at a newspaper at the age of 16 as a proofreader, and later became a journalist. During the Maoist war when children were being orphaned as a result of violence by both sides, he became active in the Sahara Group, and at 19, he began managing an orphanage that took in conflict-affected children. In Bajhang, after the army killed a man on suspicion of being a Maoist, his wife jumped into the Seti River and ended her life. Their two children were taken into army custody. During the rescue process, Joshi met Sunaina Adhikari of the ICRC and back in Nepalganj they decided to get married. The conflict was still raging in western Nepal in 2005, when Joshi went to the United States. In Maryland, he initially worked at a Bengali-owned Subway outlet, spending long hours on his feet behind the counter. He changed jobs frequently, financing his education along the way, and ultimately graduated with a degree in finance in 2008. He joined Hancock Whitney Bank in Texas, and has risen up the ranks to be Senior Vice President. A colleague inspired him to run as a way to stay healthy. But it soon turned into something more meaningful — running more than a dozen 50km marathons for charity.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251229031252_165a6d935860cf6707178aa2ac7395733883158f425bbe0ebed125529d601f61.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251229031252_165a6d935860cf6707178aa2ac7395733883158f425bbe0ebed125529d601f61" data-rendition-name="original" width="999" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Running for dear life NT"> </figure>  Last year, Joshi returned to Nepal to run the Everest Marathon, and raised $42,000 which he donated to <a href="https://onestepfoundation.org/" target="_blank">One Step Foundation</a> which works on health care, child welfare and cultural preservation in Nepal and around the world. In June this year, Joshi and his family climbed Kilimanjaro, raising $19,000 for 80 HIV-affected orphaned children in Tanzania. During the Diwali festival he ran 220km in Nevada’s Red Canyon and raised $25,000 for cataract surgeries through the the <a href="https://www.theruitfoundation.org/" target="_blank">Ruit Foundation</a> in Nepal for cataract surgeries.&nbsp; Joshi does not run competitions, and is not trying to break any records. His motto is: “My race, my pace.”&nbsp; Turning his childhood scarcity into helping others, he says: “We all share sunlight, rain, air, and soil, nothing is truly just your own. I grew up without shoes, and I am fortunate to be able to distribute shoes to those who walk barefoot.” We ask Bal Joshi what (and where) next? His answer: the <a href="https://www.worldmarathonchallenge.com/" target="_blank">World Marathon Challenge</a> that will go around the world to run seven marathons in seven continents in seven days beginning in Antarctica at end-January.&nbsp; Joshi aims to run wearing the daura suruwal and Nepal’s flag as to show where he comes from, and how far in life he has come.

Running for dear life

A day after Rabi Lamichhane and Balen Shah <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-nepal-in-2026-z6l4fgrd">came together to form an electoral alliance</a>, Kulman Ghising has also joined forces with the two leaders, merging his Ujyalo Nepal Party with the RSP.&nbsp; Following last-minute negotiations before Monday’s midnight deadline for parties to file their list of candidates for the Proportional Representation (PR) seats, Lamichhane and Ujyalo Nepal chair Anup Kumar Upadhyay signed a seven-point agreement to unify the two parties, with Balen Shah as witness.&nbsp; Per the deal, Ghising will be the vice-chair of the RSP, joining DP Aryal and Swarnim Wagle as the party’s seconds-in-command. The earlier agreement between Lamichhane and Shah retained Lamichhane as RSP chief, and promised Shah prime ministership if the party wins a majority in Parliament in March.&nbsp; Ghising’s team reportedly has a 17% share on the list of PR candidates filed by the RSP at the Election Commission. Balen has also fielded his own picks, and together the party has the likes of cricketer Gyandenra Malla, actress Reema Biswokarma, rights activist Mohna Ansari, climate activist Tashi Lhazom, and singer Prakash Saput as PR candidates. Ghising had held multiple rounds of talks with the RSP chair and the Kathmandu Mayor to discuss possible collaborations, but had failed to reach a power-sharing agreement. On Monday, Ghising had met with Lamichhane heeding a last-ditch effort from GenZ leaders, in particular Sudan Gurung, as they tried for the final time to get the interim Minister on board with Lamichhane and Shah before the PR list submission deadline.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025123004128_99e23ae7b6a042e71d271e3e74f7527086a7bb55779e6781bc9e7b711c8303e7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025123004128_99e23ae7b6a042e71d271e3e74f7527086a7bb55779e6781bc9e7b711c8303e7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1595" height="1087" loading="lazy" alt="Sudan Kulman Balen"> <figcaption>Photo: SUDAN GURUNG / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025123004128_d9f530704ab4c6e27eebf51f8e9fb55fed1d4281c99d089d06455cc7448bfda7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025123004128_d9f530704ab4c6e27eebf51f8e9fb55fed1d4281c99d089d06455cc7448bfda7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1026" height="1084" loading="lazy" alt="Balen and Sudan NT"> <figcaption>Photo: BALEN SHAH / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  The three are now set to make a formidable team to challenge mainstream parties at the polls. News of this alliance has been welcome to Nepalis who are looking for any alternatives to break the stronghold of the Oli-Deuba-Dahal trio over Nepali politics in recent history.&nbsp; But they will also carry each other’s baggage.&nbsp; Lamichhane, who was jailed for defrauding cooperatives depositors last year, was welcomed back as RSP party chair with open arms after he was released on bail last week. And while he has maintained his base of loyal supporters, he was subject to widespread criticism after he walked out of detention amid the jailbreak during the September protests, prompting his eventual voluntary return to prison.&nbsp; His party’s silencing and expulsion of critics within the RSP has also drawn direct comparison with the leadership structure of Nepal’s mainstream parties. Prominent leaders like Sumana Shrestha have left the party over disagreements with leadership.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Balen’s impassioned campaign resonated with Nepalis disillusioned with establishment leaders during the 2022 election and made him mayor of Kathmandu. The mayor’s direct, no-holds-barred style of communication and commentary has attained him much support beyond his constituency.&nbsp; But his unyielding, often unempathetic leadership style and policies— like his dismissal of street vendors and informal businesses during his drive to free up Kathmandu’s footpaths— have also earned him detractors. His recent outburst on social media in November that included expletives against both of Nepal’s neighbours and the US, as well as Nepal’s three main parties and the RSP was also widely criticised.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251230041212_fc2088daf32bac93541ebf25ca07725d75a721ae83440749ac8fa09d8fe308f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251230041212_fc2088daf32bac93541ebf25ca07725d75a721ae83440749ac8fa09d8fe308f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="890" height="1255" loading="lazy" alt="Agreement NT"> <figcaption>The seven-point agreement between RSP and Ujyalo Nepal Party.</figcaption> </figure>  Ghising, credited with ending Nepal’s prolonged load-shedding during his tenure as the chief of Nepal Electricity Authority, has a reputation of getting the job done. His public goodwill earned him a seat on Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s interim Cabinet following the youth protest.&nbsp; But he has also been under scrutiny for funds misappropriation as well as controversial power purchase agreements during his tenure as NEA chief. Ghising had foregone the leadership position at his Ujyalo party, preferring to play the role of patron until closer to the election date, but was nonetheless criticised for his political and electoral aspirations while being a member of the transitional government. It now remains to be seen if and when Ghising will step away from his position in the interim Cabinet and begin campaigning with his new partners.&nbsp; As it stands, the involvement of prominent GenZ figures in bringing together Ghising, Shah, and Lamichhane has established youth leaders as major players in Nepal’s post-September political landscape. These leaders will have significant pull with young and first-time voters. But not all young leaders are impressed with this new triumvirate. Some have pointed out that the unity between these three leaders is no different from the political opportunism and quid-pro-quo power-sharing culture established and followed by Nepal’s mainstream leadership for the last three decades which culminated into the GenZ movement of September.

Kulman follows Balen to RSP

Koreana Coffee Guff begins with a scene where Narayan Wagle, the editor-turned-farmer, appears in reverse cameo, as a character in a novel. He has just landed at Incheon in the dead of winter.&nbsp; The opening premise reminds one of Tolstoy’s saying about how stories begin either when someone goes on a journey, or when a stranger comes to town. ‘The winds of each city are its original inheritance, shaped by its local language, its specific topography and the buffets of the airborne wings of birds and airplanes,’ Wagle writes.&nbsp; The author is both on a journey and a stranger to the town. The word ‘stranger’ might need to be redefined here, as he has visited Korea several times before. But if every journey is new, then he is a stranger of sorts — stranger to the people he meets for the first time in the book, stranger to the reader who will encounter him for the first time like I did in high school reading the English translation of his 2005 Madan Puraskar winning novel Palpasa Cafe.&nbsp; Koreana is non-fiction, and was first published in 2017 in Nepali, and recently rendered into English by Prawin Adhikari, who specialises in translating Nepali works into English in such a way that they do not read like translations at all.&nbsp; Even so, I turned to a few chapters from the original text, curious to see how ideas have morphed. Take Wagle’s journey to Ansan Mountain. It is the same mountain, but something different happens in the two languages. The inexplicable feeling is that the translation has to conquer the mountain itself. At its best, the book gives the reader a peek into Wagle’s mind, his internal monologues, his writing ideas, his thoughts on the people around him, his deep yearning and respect for nature, his exploration of Seoul and Korea, where he is attending the Asian Literary Creative Writing Workshop in 2017.&nbsp; BACK TO THE LAND ‘All cities appear the same everywhere,’ he writes of Seoul, speaking of how ‘development’ has masked the original charm of a city rebuilt after war. In recent years, Wagle has moved on from being the editor of Kantipur, to activism, and has now returned to his ancestral land in Tanahu to farm.&nbsp; Clues to this metamorphosis can be detected in this book, which was written nearly ten years ago and before his transition. Wagle used to write a column called Coffee Guff, and the book carries that conversational style.&nbsp; But not all monologues land. Thoughts rooted in a specific time and space like the hike to Ansan where the author reflects on buildings, birds, and trees feel connected with a context and background. Then there are those that bring in a new metaphor, a new reflection, a new connection in almost each new sentence which make it difficult to follow the author’s stream of consciousness.&nbsp; Halfway into the book, we finally meet the writers who have come from different parts of Asia for the workshop. Not speaking a common language, the writers have to rely on interpreters and Google, which turns their exchanges into quirky moments of laughter.&nbsp; Writers are an important part of the book, the lens through which Wagle invites us to see the world. Poets Manjul from Nepal and Shiva Ryu from Korea make guest appearances. Through two Korean writers who share the surname Kim, we get a glimpse into Korean history and society, and how writing is intertwined with politics.&nbsp; This Korea is different from the Kpop idols and skincare routine that has dominated recent imagination of the divided peninsular nation. Wagle writes, ‘Literature attempts to unite, politics impedes it. They are being continuously thwarted by the conflicts ongoing in the nation’s politics.’&nbsp; One of the Kims is Kim Min-jung (김민정), author of The World’s Most Expensive Novel, that explores what it means to be a writer in Korea.&nbsp; Reading Koreana feels like a hike through a jungle. If one is able to move past the tangled and stretched monologues, the book can hold moments of awe and wonder. But there is always a desire for a clearer trail to follow. &nbsp;&nbsp; Narayan Wagle’s characteristic witticism is there aplenty, his observations are astute. Writers exploring their craft and readers curious of what is churning inside Wagle’s mind will find treats -- sometimes well-crafted, other times to be searched between the lines. &nbsp; Alfa M Shakya is a writer, researcher, and podcaster. She runs and hosts ‘How’d You Create That?’, an art podcast about the creative process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251230071252_5503c9fb08d62adb328d8f817b353604429559d3d9c6542edf3663c3f8c554e5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251230071252_5503c9fb08d62adb328d8f817b353604429559d3d9c6542edf3663c3f8c554e5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Korean coffee guff English translation review"> </figure>

Coffee guff from Korea

From stone spouts to cast-iron mains, Nepal’s water system and its struggle to provide safe water tells a larger story of power, disease, dependency — and lessons for the future. From 1823 to 1891, the Nepali state made just two notable interventions in Kathmandu’s drinking water system. The first was when Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa commissioned a stone pout (hiti) to tap groundwater within the valley’s traditional supply system. The second came nearly 70 years later with Nepal’s first industrial-era water system, the Bir Water Works in 1891 under Prime Minister Bir Shumsher Rana. Linking these two milestones was the spectre of cholera. From the 19th century on there were seven global cholera pandemics. <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0264410X19309995#bb0325" target="_blank">Originating in Asia</a>, the disease reached Europe and the Americas, the Vibrio cholera bacillus breeding in poor sanitation wherever it found it. The first wave erupted in 1817, followed by others in 1829, 1852, 1863, 1881, 1889 and, finally, in 1961, the seventh pandemic which still lingers on. London, the epicentre of the Industrial Revolution, was repeatedly stricken. In Britain ‘miasma’ foul air was blamed. &nbsp;In Nepal, cholera was seen as divine damnation. By the late 19th century, as Nepal’s relationship with Britain deepened, the Bir Water Works was inaugurated in 1891 as a defence against cholera. Whether cholera also shaped Bhimsen Thapa’s decision in 1823 is less clear. Contemporary records note the commissioning of Sundhara, but do not refer to the cholera epidemic raging at the time. The silence itself is telling: Nepal’s elites were ruling in the shadow of the disease. Bhimsen Thapa first resided in Thapathali Palace, which was built in 1802 by Nain Singh Thapa, father of Mathabarsingh Thapa, who would briefly become prime minister in the 1840s. In 1806, Bhimsen Thapa moved to Bagh Durbar, a new complex on the western edge of Tundikhel. Historians are vague about the water supply in the residences of the nobility, but wells and water hauled from rivers, ponds, canals, and other sources were likely the primary sources. A small hiti north of Bagh Durbar, near today’s Sun Dhara, may have supplied the palace. In 1823, Bhimsen Thapa had it enlarged, making it the last and largest state-built hiti in Kathmandu. Even as Bhimsen Thapa was involved in palace intrigues and border conflicts, Britain was engineering pipelines. By the late 18th century, Sir Thomas Simpson had invented the bell-and-spigot joint, making long-distance pipes viable. Fluid dynamics, dealing with pumps, pipes, and filters, was becoming a foundational discipline. In Kathmandu, the scourge continued. Cholera struck Kathmandu repeatedly, in 1862, 1867, 1872, 1874 and 1875. The 1872 epidemic, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-in-the-time-of-cholera" target="_blank">according to historian Tom Robertson</a>, claimed between 200 and 250 lives a day. On average, cholera killed between 1,200 and 1,500 people annually in Kathmandu Valley, an enormous toll for its small population. The summer of 1885 was especially calamitous: a cholera epidemic ravaged Kathmandu and its periphery from the beginning of June until late August. The disease even breached the royal palace, reportedly killing 23 people, mostly young girls. Records show that 909 people received treatment at the British Residency dispensary, and estimates suggest that as many as 10,000 people perished in a city of 50,000. In November that year, Bir Shumsher seized power in a coup. He inherited not only a premiership but a Valley ridden with disease. Cholera was endemic, and it was accompanied by typhoid, smallpox, goitre, syphilis, and chronic dyspepsia. The The British Residency dispensary at Lainchaur was inadequate. “In a poor country like ours, wealth means health,” Bir Shumsher remarked, an unusually pragmatic admission that epidemics were not divine punishment but structural afflictions of urban life. He soon pledged to expand health care. In 1889, he opened Bir Hospital and staffed it with Indian doctors to treat cholera, typhoid, smallpox, and other prevalent illnesses. PIPED WATER Bir Shumsher also recognised the need for safe drinking water. Between 1866 and 1872, he had served as Nepal’s ambassador in Calcutta, and he must have seen water mains already in operation there, and a filtration plant inaugurated in 1870. Madras had installed such a system as early as 1800, Bombay constructed the Vihar and Tulsi reservoirs in the mid-19th century. In Kathmandu British Residency personalities such as George Gimlette must have urged Bir’s government to quicken the construction of the hospital and water system, yet the archival traces of such exchanges still await historical scrutiny. By the late 19th century, the British had developed a technological ecosystem for water supply, intakes, pipes, fittings, reservoirs, and trained engineers. Bir Shumsher appealed to the British Government in India for engineering assistance. A British engineer named Mr Feigneur surveyed Kathmandu to prepare maps, and estimated the volume of water that could be brought from the Rudramati River. In 1889, a more experienced engineer, Lockhart Matthew Sinclair arrived. He was a Scotsman educated at Wellington College and the Royal Indian Engineering College, with prior experience in constructing waterworks in Jubbulpore and the Viceregal Palace in Shimla. Appointed State Engineer of Nepal (1889–1892), Sinclair reviewed Feigneur’s plans, updated them, and chose the Bishnumati River as the source of the city’s drinking water. Sinclair’s design included a reservoir at Panipokhari, at 1,330m elevation and 30m above &nbsp;Tundikhel, thereby enabling gravity-fed distribution in pipes. With a capacity of 7,327 cubic metres, the reservoir could store nine days of supply.&nbsp; The system was designed to serve about 70,000 residents through both private connections and public standpipes. The reservoir was a single-compartment tank with an arched brick roof covered in earth and turf. Its brick walls were bonded with lime mortar and aggregate, and its floor was dressed with fly stone. Work on the valley’s water supply began in 1888, three years after Bir Shumsher seized power. The following year, Bir Hospital and the Bir Water Works took shape. The project involved some 40km of imported cast-iron pipes, weighing 1.866 million kg and inscribed with the marks of Scottish foundries ‘Ally and McLean’ and ‘Glasgow’. Construction required 620,000 man-days of labour and cost over Rs600,000. Transport costs inflated prices: <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-the-four-cities-of-the-valley/" target="_blank">a load of cement</a> costing Rs10 in Calcutta was worth Rs33 by the time it reached Kathmandu. Bir Water Works was inaugurated in September 1891, six years after the cholera epidemic. Water flowed out of 131 taps, including eight in Lainchaur, six in the royal palace, eleven in the prime minister’s palace, sixteen around Tundikhel, thirteen in Thapathali, seven in Thamel, and two in Naxal. The system’s designation, the term ‘works’ , echoes the Chelsea, Calcutta, and Glasgow Water Works, underlining its industrial pedigree. Water was also supplied to Phora Durbar, Bir Shumsher’s palace of music and dance whose fountains sprayed rose-scented water in a display of opulence. The <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-" target="_blank">Bir Dhara Works</a> was more than an engineering scheme: it was Nepal’s first modern public-health intervention. Safer drinking water curbed waterborne disease, and the number of cholera outbreaks declined, but were not eliminated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260103020144_d5c22de54c0eaab680a166c5a7482839fdc09b60679109021d0504252a810254.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260103020144_d5c22de54c0eaab680a166c5a7482839fdc09b60679109021d0504252a810254" data-rendition-name="original" width="865" height="535" loading="lazy" alt="Cholera and drinking water in Kathmandu"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260103020144_a46075b6d759585df56a2bb8e5a07d85de7d9a69406165c32784fe30012c9971.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260103020144_a46075b6d759585df56a2bb8e5a07d85de7d9a69406165c32784fe30012c9971" data-rendition-name="original" width="2791" height="3859" loading="lazy" alt="Cholera and drinking water in Kathmandu"> </figure>  “Now we have water to fight cholera, and I believe cholera will no longer prevail. After four years of piped water, the benefits have been greater than expected,” Bir Shumsher said in a proclamation. Despite this, the prevalence of poor sanitation, open defecation, cramped housing, and malnutrition meant that typhoid, smallpox, and dyspepsia remained endemic. The Bir Dhara system marked Kathmandu’s transition from reliance on wells, rivers, springs, and hiti to piped water, operating for several decades and laying the foundation for the expansion of drinking water services across the country in the late twentieth century. <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-the-four-cities-of-the-valley/" target="_blank">Extensions followed in Patan</a> under Chandra Shumsher, and Bhim Shumsher later added the Tri Bhim Dhara. Piped water systems were subsequently constructed in towns such as Kirtipur, Bhaktapur, Dhankuta, Pokhara, Dhulikhel, and Jajarkot which itself saw a deadly cholera outbreak in 2009.&nbsp; CHOLERA METAPHOR In 1933, Nepal’s first water bureaucracy, the Pani Goswara, was established, formalising state involvement in urban water supply. Yet even till the late 20th century, households continue to rely on a mix of sources, including public water networks, private vendors, rooftop storage tanks, borewells, wells, hiti, and household filtration. The lack of reliable water supply places disproportionate financial, physical, and psychological burdens on low-income households, underscoring how decades of infrastructure expansion have not translated into universal, reliable service. during challenges in governance, investment priorities, and regulation. Bir Shumsher also attempted to introduce <a href="https://www.ukaalo.com/news/cholera-in-kathmandu-1958/" target="_blank">basic hygiene measures</a>, such as pit latrines with squatting slabs. However, there is no record of these facilities being built in his palaces, later built palaces, or elsewhere. Sanitation conditions remained poor for both the elite and the general population. Open defecation or the use of crude pit latrines without proper waste disposal was common. With no drainage or sewer systems, human waste accumulated near homes, contributing to the spread of waterborne diseases. In 2019, Nepal declared itself ‘open defecation free’, a policy milestone, but this achievement masks the persistence of deeper problems. Urban areas generate some 867 million litres of wastewater daily, yet only 7% of it is treated before being discharged. Sewage flows untreated into rivers and streams, spreading cholera, typhoid, dysentery, and other diseases, particularly among children and vulnerable communities. Safe disposal of faecal sludge continues to be a major struggle for many communities and local governments. Besides Jajarkot, Godavari in Kathmandu Valley had a localised outbreak in 2024. This year, Birganj was struck by a cholera outbreak caused by a lethal combination of unreliable water supply, groundwater overpumping, poor drainage and hygiene, and unsafe waste disposal. And Nepal’s peacekeepers deployed after the earthquake in Haiti in 2010 were blamed for spreading cholera that ultimately killed 30,000 people in the Caribbean nation. The Bir Water Works was more than a reservoir and pipes. It was Nepal’s first brush with modernity, mediated through engineering and haunted by cholera. More than 134 years on, cholera remains a threat and a reminder of Nepal’s challenges in water and sanitation governance. The issue is not merely ensuring access to safe water but also building public trust that quality essential services can be delivered equitably, sustainably, and with resilience. Ajaya Dixit is a Kathmandu-based researcher exploring Nepal’s water history since the mid-eighteenth century to inform ethical water and river management in a changing climate.