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>.

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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. Lys wrote the German version and Sandra wrote the English. Sandra reached out to Kanchan Burathoki, with whom she was &nbsp;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

Belém’s lowland Amazon landscape stands in stark contrast to &nbsp;Himalayan peaks, yet the decisions adopted at COP30 will influence the future of mountain regions across the world.
For the first time, mountains were anchored across several outcomes of the UN climate negotiations, including a dedicated dialogue to be held during the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) mid-year session in June 2026.
COP30 also made a small step forward in advancing the urgent call to limit global temperature rise and scale up climate finance, both of which are critical for vulnerable mountainous countries.
For mountain countries like Nepal, these milestones are not symbolic gains, they are overdue acknowledgement of the profound and accelerating risks unfolding in the high mountains. They offer a rare opening for mountain nations to elevate their priorities, strengthen coalitions and ensure that global climate action translates into real protection for the people and ecosystems of the world’s highest and most fragile landscapes.
In a decisive step, COP30 requested the Chairs of the Subsidiary Bodies, the technical and scientific arm, to convene a formal UNFCCC dialogue on mountains and climate change during its mid-year session in June 2026. This matters for three reasons.
First, from the continuous rise in global temperature, and from rapidly retreating glaciers to unstable slopes to drying springs, mountain systems are undergoing ‘irreversible change’ at faster rates than many other regions.
Second, hundreds of millions of people in downstream countries depend on mountain water, biodiversity and resources. The collapse of mountain systems is not just a local concern, it is a global risk.
Third, mountain nations have historically had limited negotiating leverage. While many other geographic groupings have established strong collective platforms, mountain agendas have remained scattered. The dialogue, supported by a summary report to be presented at COP31, offers a new diplomatic anchor point.
For Nepal, as well as the broader mountain ranges such as the Himalaya, the Andes, the Alps, the Atlas and the Ural Mountains, this opening helps not only to highlight vulnerabilities, but also to shape global climate policy in ways that reflect mountain realities.
Beyond the standalone dialogue, mountains were referenced across COP30 decisions in ways that give mountain nations more substantive hooks in the global process.
The Global Mutirão decision, the political heart of COP30, explicitly reaffirms the ‘vital importance of protecting mountainous ecosystems’, among others, as part of an integrated response to climate change, biodiversity loss and land degradation. This holistic framing aligns with Nepal’s longstanding call for recognising the interconnected crises affecting mountain landscapes.
Meanwhile, the Belém Adaptation Indicators under the Global Goal on Adaptation include mountains as a specific category for disaggregation. This is an important technical win: it allows countries like Nepal to measure and report adaptation progress in ways that reflect the unique vulnerabilities of mountain ecosystems and communities.&nbsp;
Indicators related to climate-resilient ecosystems, ecosystem-based adaptation, and biodiversity resilience all reference mountainous areas, opening pathways for targeted adaptation planning and finance.
Not only COP30 but the process leading up to it has made consistent progress on mountain issues. The IPCC, in its Seventh Assessment Cycle, will include a dedicated cross-chapter paper on mountains. Likewise, the UNFCCC’s Standing Committee on Finance has selected ‘mountain ecosystems and melting glaciers’ as a sub-theme for its forum next year.
Both developments pave the way for advancing climate science and climate finance specifically in the context of mountains. These decisions, taken together, offer a foundation to build a more structured and sustained recognition of mountain issues in the climate regime.
CLIMATE SCIENCE
The urgency behind the COP30 decisions reflects what climate science has been warning for years. The Hindu Kush Himalaya is warming significantly faster than the global average. Even at 1.5°C of global warming, the region could lose up to one-third of its glacier volume by the end of this century.
Extreme rainfall events that were once rare are now more frequent and intense. Landslides are becoming larger, deadlier and more unpredictable. Springs that sustained communities for generations are drying up. Ecosystems are rapidly shifting upslope, leaving species with shrinking habitat and escalating extinction risks.
These impacts are already manifesting on the ground. Recent floods, landslides and glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs) across Bhutan, India, Nepal and Pakistan all reflect a broader pattern of climate-driven extremes. As the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) warns, the intensity and frequency of such events will continue to increase with every fraction of warming.
This is why referring to the Paris temperature goal of 1.5°C as ‘unattainable’ is not just scientifically careless, it strikes at the very survival of mountain communities. Yet current global commitments fall far short of what is needed. Based on 86 NDCs submitted by 113 Parties, global greenhouse gas emissions in 2035 are projected to be only 12% below 2019 levels, far from the 43% reduction the IPCC says is required to keep 1.5°C within reach.
For mountain countries, the message could not be clearer: there is no margin for delayed action.
PATH AHEAD
COP30 has created both political and technical space for mountain issues–thanks to the joint efforts of mountainous nations like Nepal, Bhutan and Kyrgyzstan (as Chair of the Mountain Group), along with support from countries in Latin America and Africa.
But turning this progress into real protection for mountain regions will require collective effort and sustained leadership. It is not only about securing the word ‘mountain’ in decisions — the real task ahead lies in advancing urgent action to limit global temperature rise and in mobilising climate finance that reflects the realities and complexities of mountainous geographies.
The upcoming mountain dialogue in June must underline the fact that protecting mountains requires stabilising global temperatures well below 1.5°C.
The case for mountain-specific finance for adaptation and addressing loss and damage remains key. Mountain regions face challenges that do not align with conventional adaptation models: high-risk terrain, dispersed settlements, difficult access, fragile ecosystems and complex hydrology.
Adaptation here is more costly, technically demanding and long-term, yet climate finance mechanisms rarely reflect this reality. The GGA indicators must help to push for simplified access and scaled-up support for ecosystem-based and nature-based adaptation, recognising the complexity of mountainous geography when justifying climate rationale.
For mountain countries, many climate-induced impacts cannot be avoided by adaptation alone. The accelerating pace of glacier loss, slope failures, biodiversity collapse and cultural heritage impacts demands a robust loss and damage system. The Fund for responding to Loss and Damage (FRLD) must also recognise differentiated realities and address mountain-specific risks, GLOFs, highland droughts, erosion-driven displacement and glacial retreat.
Diplomatic progress alone will not safeguard the mountains. Action must reach the places where impacts are unfolding, unstable slopes, remote settlements, shrinking pastures and drying springs. This requires scaling up early warning systems tailored to mountain hazards, and expanding watershed and spring-shed restoration to secure vital water sources. It also means investing in resilient mountain infrastructure and protecting biodiversity corridors linking fragile highland ecosystems.
Empowering local communities through climate-resilient livelihoods is equally critical, alongside strengthening scientific monitoring of the cryosphere and mountain ecosystems to understand fast-changing risks. Finally, enhanced cross-border collaboration on data, forecasting and water governance is essential, given the Himalaya is a shared mountain system whose stability depends on collective action.
COP30 has opened an important chapter for mountain issues in global climate diplomacy, but it is only the beginning. The 2026 mountain dialogue, the implementation of the Belém Adaptation Indicators, the IPCC cross chapter paper on mountains, to the Standing Committee on Finance to discuss mountains, and above all a renewed global commitment to decisive emission reductions will determine whether mountain communities are protected in ways that reflect their realities.
For Nepal, a country whose identity, ecology and economy are inseparable from its mountains, this moment is both an opportunity and a responsibility. The stakes are nothing less than the future stability of the Himalaya and the well-being of millions who depend on it. The world can no longer afford to look away from the mountains. And mountain nations cannot afford to wait.
Manjeet Dhakal is the Head of LDC Support Team at Climate Analytics and Director for Climate Analytics South Asia. He is a member of Nepal delegation and Adviser to the Chair of Least Developed Countries on climate change. &nbsp;

Opinion

Mountains at the tipping point

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

Parks by the people and for the people

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

The 193-member General Assembly, the UN’s highest policy-making body, routinely designates International Day of This or International Day of That. &nbsp; The wide range of subjects and events range from the sublime to the ridiculous, turning some urgent international problem into something silly and absurd. Commemorations range from the well-known International Women’s Day and the International Day to Combat Islamophobia to International Moon Day and World Bicycle Day. There is World Tuna Day, World Bee Day, International Day of Potato, World Horse Day, World Pulses Day and International Day of the Arabian Leopard. The United Nations observes 218 international days annually (and counting) out of the 365 days available. One of the first designations came from the UN General Assembly’s declaration in 1947 that 24 October should be celebrated as United Nations Day, the anniversary of the adoption of the UN Charter that founded the organisation. Since then, UN Member States have proposed more than 200 designations, presenting draft resolutions to the General Assembly so the entire membership, representing 193 nations, can vote on the proposals. But a new resolution aimed at revitalising the work of the General Assembly 'notes with concern the significant increase in the number of proposals to proclaim international days, weeks, months, years or decades'. The resolution decided to put on hold consideration of new proposals for international days, weeks, months, years and decades during the eighty-first and eighty-second sessions. The resolution also requests the President of the General Assembly, effective from the eighty-first session in 2026, to group all proclamation requests for international commemoration into a single resolution per agenda item, where each proposed commemoration contains its own operative paragraph focused on its establishment.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251207091248_2234d7732b326739b3089a45c2878661e65bd6a6008f00c3f861a63c0caa50ee.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251207091248_2234d7732b326739b3089a45c2878661e65bd6a6008f00c3f861a63c0caa50ee" data-rendition-name="original" width="725" height="805" loading="lazy" alt="international days"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251207091248_4e3fdee1352e7d7ba132555821d2842bce34d9f67953de27ccb5fa7530551f43.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251207091248_4e3fdee1352e7d7ba132555821d2842bce34d9f67953de27ccb5fa7530551f43" data-rendition-name="original" width="728" height="762" loading="lazy" alt="international days"> </figure>  Republished under an arrangement with Inter Press Service (IPS).

‘International Days’ range from the sublime to the ridiculous

In a democracy, governments come and go. But Nepal had become so entangled in the triangular affair between Sher Bahadur Deuba, K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal that it was becoming impossible to tell who was canoodling with whom.&nbsp;
All three had long since abandoned their party ideologies. Staying in power was all that mattered as they turned Nepal’s democracy into a kleptocracy.&nbsp;
For the past at least 20 years, we have warned them to mend their ways. Democracy had to be rescued from the hands of such kakistocrats. Waiting to pounce were monarchists and anarchists of every ilk, outcast Maoists, and supporters of a leader jailed for fraud. Tycoon Durga Prasai said his rally in March was to restore a Hindu monarchy, but he was just a temporary royalist whom even the ex-king spurned.&nbsp;
All this converged into a perfect storm on 8 September. Commandos shot and killed 19 innocent young people outside Parliament, the anger boiled over into targetted arson and vandalism the next day. The government fell, and Sushila Karki was elected interim prime minister through Discord.&nbsp;
With not just their monopoly on power but also their very lives in danger, the triumvirate was at first in total shock. Then came conspiracy theories and an inability to gauge the rage from decades of misrule.
Nepalis had assumed that after September the old parties would see their folly, and step down to hand over the leadership to a new generation. But 10 weeks later, there is no sign of any act of contrition.
In the NC, Sher Bahadur Deuba has sidelined the caretaker he himself appointed, Purna Bahadur Khadka, and is active again as the party prepares for a showdown in its Convention next month. The UML is proceeding with its own General Convention, where Oli is fully assured of a third term as party boss. Dahal sees no alternative to himself in his newly-forged Nepali Communist Party and is eagerly eyeing becoming prime minister for the fourth time.&nbsp;
The three leaders who everyone had hoped would finally retire have reincarnated. It is obscene for obsolete politicians to still hanker for power after all that has happened.&nbsp;
SHOCK AND AWE
The three leaders who have been prime minister a dozen times between themselves want to cling on, but this is not abnormal if we apply <a href="https://www.bbc.com/audio/play/w3cszmjz" target="_blank">Elisabeth Kübler-Ross</a>’ theory of the five stages of grief. The author of <a href="https://www.google.com.np/books/edition/On_Death_and_Dying/GlSq0AEACAAJ?hl=en" target="_blank">On Death and Dying</a> was analysing how people with terminal illness deal with their situation, but her 5-stage theory may be applicable to the way heads of the NC, UML and NCP are reacting to the shock of being overthrown — first with denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance.&nbsp;
On 9 September, distressed by what had befallen them, the three were in total denial. Then began the stage of anger. Oli ranted in public about a conspiracy to install an ‘unconstitutional’ interim government, blaming the Nepal Army, and vowing not to take part in election even while preparing for it.
The NC has decided to participate in elections, although it has to first sort out its internal power struggle. The NCP and the RSP have united with smaller parties and are actively preparing to campaign. GenZ groups are speaking in different voices, with Sudan Gurung and Miraj Dhungana openly trying to unseat an interim government they themselves installed.&nbsp;
The parties are now in the third stage: bargaining. Instead of asking himself in hindsight what he should have done, Oli wants Parliament restored but has also registered his party for elections. The UML won't allow elections unless the government lifts restrictions on Oli’s movement.
Likewise, GenZ groups are putting up conditions for supporting polls: arrest Oli and others. Karki is single-mindedly focussed on elections, even if it has to be put off by two months. The Army would also like polls on time because it does not want a repeat of September when it had to intervene to form the interim government.
If Karki’s 6-month mandate ends without elections, and if by then the GenZ’s trust in the interim government collapses, then UML and NC could plan to press for an all-party election government, restoration of Parliament which would then dissolve itself to appoint a new prime minister that Karki would also be agreeable to.
The current state of affairs makes it difficult to imagine elections being held on 5 March — mainly because polls would be incomplete without the three main parties taking part, and it is unlikely they would participate in polls that they are certain to lose since they have not reformed themselves. Amidst these ifs and buts, the role of the Army will be critical.&nbsp;
The fourth stage of grief is depression, and that is what will happen to the parties when the reality of their unpopularity finally hits them. Only then will they finally accept their fate, realise that it was all their own doing, and perhaps reinvent themselves.
Kübler-Ross said the five stages did not necessarily have to be in that order, or that sometimes there may only be three phases, which may be applicable to the parties. What is for sure is that the three leaders are in no mood to atone for their sins.
Rabin Giri is an editor with <a href="http://nepalnews.com/" target="_blank">nepalnews.com</a>.&nbsp;

Stages of denial

The <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DQtSOT6ilFC/?img_index=1">post on Instagram </a>has an image of Sudan Gurung. Over the top is the message: ‘We wont let this year’s election happen if Gen Z’s demands are Ignored’. The account’s bio is ‘Uniting Nepalese Through Independent Investigative Research.’ Post like these have become a template for the information ecosystem in the aftermath of the GenZ revolt in September. Social media feeds are saturated with content that uses multimodality of captions, video, audio, to convey alarm and warnings about how GenZ aspirations are being subverted. Research by MIT showed that on X false news reaches 1,500 people six times faster than the truth. Fake news goes ‘farther, faster, deeper, and more broadly than the truth’, researchers concluded. Narratives compete on platforms, and users gravitate to the shock-value of the news and not to factual precision or nuance.&nbsp; “On social media misinformation easily mutates into disinformation,” says media literacy trainer Deepak Adhikari. “The news we see on social media are often out of context, with little information that misinforms more than inform.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251203121236_6daaeaf8ed255fda4a431d0419d9ae1a0908259af14529835034ce48653064a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251203121236_6daaeaf8ed255fda4a431d0419d9ae1a0908259af14529835034ce48653064a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Doomscrolling democracy NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251203121232_8a7a41b8bd1892137d1dd97fd1c1408d2879ff96fa69a4d6d5acff7239869d4b.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251203121232_8a7a41b8bd1892137d1dd97fd1c1408d2879ff96fa69a4d6d5acff7239869d4b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1601" height="340" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ instagram"> </figure>  Indeed, today’s ‘Post-Truth Society’ is characterised by a media environment where users give more credibility to their pre-existing beliefs and emotion rather than objective facts or subjective nuance. Post-Truth does not refer to what comes after the truth, but rather a cultural or information environment where pre-held personal beliefs shape public opinion, not facts.&nbsp; Rumour, bias and propaganda have always been a part of the informationsphere, but what makes it different today is the velocity at which falsehood spreads. The news cycle is short, and before content can be verified the damage is already done.&nbsp; Adhikari says that pre- and post-publication fact checking can be a potential antidote. However, when a video with misleading content goes viral, and even after fact-checkers catch up to correct it, the fear-mongering, anger or hate has already spread.&nbsp; In Nepal’s social media, apparently everyone is tarred as guilty, or funded by a foreign government. Calls to dismantle federalism, restore the monarchy, or teach political leaders a lesson by supporting authoritarian alternatives are no longer fringe ideas discussed in private. They circulate routinely in the algorithmic streams legitimised not by evidence but sentiment. When misinformation becomes the default, nostalgia for a mythical prosperous past begins to look like a rational response. While these positions are not new, their algorithmic amplification gives them perceived legitimacy that makes it hard to estimate, or far exceed, their actual political support. “We have not highlighted the achievements of our multiparty democratic system, and the new generation has not experienced authoritarianism,” Adhikari explains. “Therefore statements like federalism is expensive and the monarchy was better have taken up space, because the evidence of the counter narrative is underreported.” There is a positive side to social media. The GenZ movement took on momentum, and the protestors organised and supported each other through the very platforms that are now full of content that can potentially derail the democracy they wanted to strengthen. Just like it was trendy to be revolutionary during the protests, it is now trendy to be skeptical and to distrust the very people who were installed in the interim government through online voting. Such is the architecture of social media: it rewards immediate reaction over reflection, and due to its interface design, it not only shows what could be relevant ‘for you’ but also tells you what others are thinking about that. The role of the mainstream press as the traditional gatekeeper of information has been superseded by the digital sphere — both in access and sharing. This poses new challenges because social media content may not be news, and just because a page claims to be a news site that does not mean it is journalism. Social media feeds are not chronological newspapers but an algorithmic marketplace. TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube all rely on recommender systems, now powered by AI to keep users on their platforms for as long as possible. The feeds then collapse the distinction between credible news, speculation, parody, and deliberate disinformation, especially in a politically volatile environment.&nbsp; Everything appears in the same vertical stream, formatted with similar fonts, voiceovers, and music, making a platter of content that they know you are most likely to consume. For Nepali users, this has created personalised and parallel political realities. Two people living in the same household may open TikTok and encounter completely different idea of the problems and solutions of Nepal. One is fed content in favour of elections in March, while another pushes conspiracy theories about anti-GenZ activities aided and abetted by foreign powers. None of these feeds reflect the whole picture. Each reflects what the algorithm has learnt will capture user attention. Academics have long found that social media sites do thousands of A B testing to silently optimise which colors, captions, or video formats users respond to most intensely.&nbsp; Tests help design the most addictive feeds. Interface interference allows platforms to limit discoverability of certain features such as the ‘Logout’ and ‘Privacy’ settings so the system remembers users preference for the next time they are scrolling the platform. When faced with such infocalypse, we have the option to withdraw and not engage with our feeds or our phones. But billions of dollars have been spent by Big Tech to keep us hooked. We need more structural revisions that integrate the need of a safer online environment. Media and digital literacy must be woven into both formal education and public institutions. It cannot be an optional topic or a workshop for a select few.&nbsp; Students must learn how algorithms work, how misinformation spreads, and how to verify information before sharing it. Adults need community-level programs that help them navigate the online world that now shapes politics.&nbsp; Content creators also must be held accountable. Profiles posing as news sites must also be brought under the same scrutiny as the mainstream press. Directives for social media journalism, a section in the Press Council’s Journalism Code of Conduct can be introduced as provisions that foster transparency and ethical journalism practices on social media. Creators should pledge to verify facts, cite sources, and clearly label opinion or commentary. While this will not entirely curb disinformation, it can be the first step towards a digital public sphere that can host democratic dialogue with nuance and facts.&nbsp; Says Adhikari: “Journalism doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and our knowledge space, academia, think tanks, research centres, archives, are scaffolding to support journalism, and we must make them stronger. The role of journalism can be to humanise the news and journalists can be storytellers, but the responsibility of the information ecosystem does not rely on journalists alone.” Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Ayusha Chalise

Cyberia

Doomscrolling democracy

As we gather in Doha for the High-Level Meeting on “Forging Ambitious Global Partnerships for Sustainable and Resilient Graduation of Least Developed Countries,” the stakes could not be higher.&nbsp; Graduation from the Least Developed Country (LDC) category is a landmark national achievement—a recognition of hard-won gains in income, human development, and resilience. Yet, for too many countries, this milestone comes with new vulnerabilities that risk undermining the very gains that enabled graduation. Since the establishment of the LDC category in 1971, only eight countries have graduated. Today, 44 countries remain in the group, representing 14% of the world’s population, but contributing less than 1.3% to global GDP. A record number of 14 countries-equally divided between Asia and Africa are now on graduation track.&nbsp; The Doha Programme of Action (DPoA) charts an ambitious yet achievable target: enabling at least 15 additional countries to graduate by 2031. But as the DPoA underscores graduation must be sustainable, resilient and irreversible. It must serve as a springboard for transformation— not a moment of exposure to new risks. But as preferential trade arrangements, concessional financing, and dedicated technical assistance begin to phase down, countries may face heightened fiscal pressures, reduced competitiveness, and increased exposure to external shocks. Without well-sequenced and forward-looking transition planning, these shifts can slow progress toward the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and strain national systems. Yet within these challenges also lie opportunities. With the right policies, partnerships, and incentives, graduation can catalyse deeper structural transformation, expand access to new financing windows, strengthen institutions, and unlock pathways to diversified, resilient, and inclusive growth. The task before us is to manage risks while harnessing these opportunities—ensuring that no country graduates without momentum.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025120308128_2521edd9d529834249cb162778897c2de201a43547ac295e3ba527e4db1d800f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025120308128_2521edd9d529834249cb162778897c2de201a43547ac295e3ba527e4db1d800f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="Forging Ambitious Global Partnerships for Sustainable and Resilient Graduation of Least Developed Countries"> </figure>  Smooth Transition Strategies: A National Imperative The DPoA calls for every graduating country to develop inclusive, nationally owned Smooth Transition Strategies (STS) well-ahead of the graduation date. These strategies must be fully integrated into national development plans and SDG frameworks, ensuring coherence and resilience. They should prioritise diversification, human capital investment, and adaptive governance, while placing women, youth, and local actors at the centre of design and oversight. STS must be living documents—flexible, participatory, and backed by robust monitoring and financing. Reinvigorated Global Partnerships: The essential Pillar No country can navigate this transition alone. The DPoA calls for an incentive-based international support structure that extends beyond graduation. For LDCs with high utilisation of trade preferences – the withdrawal of preferential market access must be carefully sequenced to avoid abrupt disruptions. For climate-vulnerable SIDS and LLDCs, enhanced access to climate finance, debt solutions, and resilience support are key elements in their efforts to tackle post-graduation challenges.&nbsp; Deepened South-South and triangular cooperation, innovative financing instruments, blended finance, and strengthened private-sector engagement will be essential to building productive capacities and unlocking opportunities in digital transformation, green and blue economies, and regional market integration. iGRAD: A Transformative Tool The operationalisation of the Sustainable Graduation Support Facility—iGRAD—is a concrete step forward. By providing tailored advisory services, capacity-building, and peer learning, iGRAD can serve as a critical tool to help countries anticipate risks, manage transitions, and sustain development momentum. Its success, however, hinges on strong political support and adequate, predictable resourcing from development partners. Graduation as a Catalyst for Transformation Graduation should not be the end of the story—it should be the beginning of a new chapter of resilience and opportunity. With integrated national strategies and reinvigorated global partnerships, we can turn graduation into a catalyst for inclusive, sustainable development. Let us seize this moment in Doha to reaffirm our collective commitment: no country should graduate into vulnerability. Together, we can ensure that graduation delivers on its promise—for communities, for economies, and for future generations. Rabab Fatima is UN Under Secretary General and High Representative for the Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries and Small Island Developing States. IPS UN Bureau <a href="https://www.ipsnews.net/2025/12/graduation-must-be-a-springboard-not-a-stumbling-block/">Republished</a> under an arrangement with Inter Press Service (IPS).

Graduation must be a springboard, not a stumbling block

The Kangchenjunga Trek in far-eastern Nepal is a remote and less-crowded adventure that offers raw wilderness, diverse cultures, and breathtaking terrain below the world’s third highest mountain. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) grabbed the world’s attention before Mt Everest ever did because its imposing rampart dominated the northern horizon from Darjeeling, the summer refuge for the British in India. The Kangchenjunga massif is more a mountain range rather than a peak, its high ridge stretching 25km from Nepal to Sikkim.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c" data-rendition-name="original" width="938" height="726" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga trail map"></figure>  Sikkim considers the mountain sacred, and has banned mountaineering expeditions. But the various prominences of Kangchenjunga are increasingly popular for climbers via the north face in Nepal. For non-mountaineers, even the Kangchenjunga trek can be arduous, especially in winter. It is one of the last pure wilderness areas in Nepal, traversing sparsely populated valleys that are rich in biodiversity because of the high annual rainfall. Even when Nepal was a forbidden land, among the first foreign visitors was British botanist J D Hooker who explored the Nepal side of Kangchenjunga in 1850 to collect plant samples. The peak was first climbed in 1955, two years after the first ascent of Mt Everest.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The establishment of Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in September 2006 was accompanied by tragedy when 24 people, including Nepal’s nature preservation pioneers were killed in a helicopter crash. The Conservation Area is now the only one managed completely by the local indigenous people. It has 70 varieties of orchids, 30 rhododendron types, and 15 out of 28 endemic plants of Nepal. Kangchenjunga still gets very few of the 200,000 foreign trekkers who visit Nepal every year, but improved road access in recent years is making it more popular. Trekkers have a choice of exploring the North Base Camp (Pangpema) or the South Base Camp (Yalung Glacier), or combine both for the full Kangchenjunga Circuit (map). This trek is considered strenuous, with long walking days, high altitude, and tea house accommodation that is much more basic than the Everest or Annapurna regions. Trekkers have to be fit and with prior hiking experience. Most teams take tents and camp, and carry most of their food.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  FULL CIRCUIT Because the region is restricted, trekkers must obtain a permit and be accompanied by a licensed guide. A full circuit can take three weeks, while doing only the North or South Base Camps will take two weeks, including flying from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur and jeep to Taplejung or a rough trail to Hellok. The lower forested stretches are teeming with wildlife, and this is red panda and snow leopard country. The streams and ponds have amphibians and reptiles, some of which have not yet even been classified. The route also passes the homelands of the Limbu, Rai and Tibetan communities with the local culture and architecture more intact than in most other mountain areas of Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The best seasons to trek are spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November). There are fewer trekkers and climbers in winter, and many of the birds and wildlife have migrated down to warmer climes. Despite its beauty, trekkers should be prepared for challenges like long distances between villages, unpredictable weather, and limited emergency rescue options due to the remoteness of the area — all even more challenging in winter. Norbu Lama is an international hiking guide with www.dolpocaravantreks.com and just returned after leading a trek to Kangchenjunga Base Camps.

Kangchenjunga in winter

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

Ancient heritage meets dern distillery craft as the US-based The Nepali Spirit Company this month makes its global debut with Kathmandu Ayla. Inspired by Nepal’s ancient rice whiskey tradition, the product is the first of four handcrafted spirits that brings Kathmandu Valley’s 1,000-year-old ayla tradition to the world stage. “The first four products combine history, culture, and tradition and it has taken eight years to get to this launch point,” says CEO of The Nepal Spirit Company Kashish Das Shrestha, who is also publishing a book on the history of alcohol in Nepali culture. The other three ayla products are Masala Whiskey aged in Brazilian Amburana casks and spiced with black cardamom from Nepal, Annapurna Ayla, and Haku Chaku Himalayan Espresso Liqueur made with organic Nepali coffee, and chaku (dark molasses).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  “I started visiting international whiskey auctions six years ago and after reading about distilling, my passion for spirits grew, and I felt the urge to tell the story of Nepal’s heritage spirits to the world,” explains Shrestha. Once poured in Nepal’s royal courts, ayla is a clear rice whiskey that is a millennia-old living heritage of Kathmandu used in rituals from birth to death and traditional life milestones of its inhabitants. Ayla is distilled to capture the classic aromas and flavors, with a soft sweet after taste. It can be enjoyed neat, sipped through meals, or enjoyed as shots. With more than 15% of Nepal’s population living and working abroad, there is a cultural demand for ayla in the diaspora from Asan to Amstredam to Australia.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1270" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;“We also believe ayla is a wonderful way to tell Nepal’s story to the world,” says Lilu KC Shrestha, Chief Operating Officer of the company. “We intend to use our platform to promote Nepal in any way we can, and also find ways to give back to the country. It was high time a world-class Nepali spirits brand entered the global market, and we are proud to take the lead.” Aside from the ayla itself, the bottle and packaging was conceived by New York-based designer Sahara Shrestha to reflect a complete Nepaliness. “Each bottle and box is a love letter to Nepal, and every detail is an expression of respect and appreciation of Nepali heritage and our desire to share it with the world,” says Kashish Das Shrestha. “And ayla itself is a sacred part of our culture, so we wanted to make sure the bottle reflects this reverence.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> <figcaption>Aylarita</figcaption> </figure>  The bottom of each bottle has an embossed Mandala representing the universe and its interconnectedness. A glass molding of Himalayan peaks Chomolungma and Nuptse signifies the earth and heaven. The bottle cap is a black and gold rendering of the metal plates that hang from Kathmandu’s temples. The logo of The Nepali Spirit Company is also inspired by the unti, a traditional vessel used to pour ayla. While its top is typically adorned with a peacock, the company’s design replaces it with rice stalks. This motif is also on the label of Annapurna Whiskey named in honour of both the mountain and the goddess, the giver of grain. For a new take, ayla can be paired with a lime wedge lathered in honey, cumin, and salt, or on the glass rim. It can also be mixed into cocktails to make Aylarita, Aylatini, or Aylapolitan. <a href="http://www.thenepalispirit.com/" target="_blank">www.thenepalispirit.com</a>, @TheNepaliSpirit

The American Ayla

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>