During President Trump’s tour of Gulf monarchies last month, he mentioned Gaza only two times. The first time was in Doha, when he expressed his desire to make Gaza a “freedom zone.” Gaza’s 2.1 million residents, nearly half of whom are children, would like that, too. Just as the Israeli hostages being held by Hamas in violation of the Geneva Convention have the right to immediate and unconditional freedom, Gazans also have the right to live free of the inhumane and illegal collective punishment they’ve been forced to endure for more than 600 days.&nbsp; They would like freedom from the brutal bombardment, starvation, forced displacement, siege, and blockade of Gaza. They would also like the freedom to safely collect food and basic humanitarian supplies from the UN and other legitimate and experienced aid providers, the freedom to return to their communities to search for and bury their dead with dignity, and the freedom to rebuild Gaza even if it takes a generation. The survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Dresden, Stalingrad, and Le Havre, were free to rebuild their cities. Why should this freedom be denied to Gazans? When President Trump mentioned Gaza for the second time during his Gulf tour, he was in Abu Dhabi, where he briefly acknowledged the humanitarian crisis. He said, “We’re looking at Gaza. A lot of people are starving.”&nbsp; The world now knows that President Trump’s words were nothing more than a virtue-signaling smoke screen. He wasn’t actually seeing the scale of the human suffering in Gaza, which the United States helped create.&nbsp; Instead, he was talking about the so-called Gaza ‘Humanitarian Foundation’, a cynical and deadly tool designed by Israeli and U.S. officials to replace an established, functioning, independent, and credible international aid system in order to accelerate the ethnic cleansing and annexation of Gaza.&nbsp; Since its launch ten days after Trump made his comments in Abu Dhabi, the G.H.F. has delivered more death than food and proven itself to be anything but humanitarian.&nbsp; It’s just another lethal weapon in Israel’s vast Western-subsidized war arsenal and a way to appease Israel’s patrons in the U.S. Congress. How, after all, can “Hamas tunnels” and fighters hide beneath the emaciated, dying, and dead bodies of Gaza’s starved children?&nbsp; President Trump had a real chance to prove that his concerns for Gaza and his persistent claims of being a peacemaker were genuine during the 4 June U.N. Security Council resolution calling for an immediate, unconditional, and permanent ceasefire and full, unhindered humanitarian access.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250629130620_9c616feb2c9ed3e7a33a0eadb639dd82058bbf39325ad9319a40c3ccb4b976c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250629130620_9c616feb2c9ed3e7a33a0eadb639dd82058bbf39325ad9319a40c3ccb4b976c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="530" loading="lazy" alt="Gaza school"> <figcaption>Aftermath of a 6 May Israeli airstrike on an UNRWA school turned-shelter in Gaza where dozens of people were reportedly killed, including women and children. Photo: UNRWA</figcaption> </figure>  Like President Biden before him, President Trump instructed his Acting U.N. Ambassador to cast the lone, shameful vote against a resolution meant to prevent the further loss of life in Gaza, including for the remaining Israeli hostages whose families have been pleading for a lasting ceasefire every day since November 2023.&nbsp; This U.N. resolution wasn’t a political call for sanctions or an arms embargo against Israel. Nor was it a call to recognise the State of Palestine. It was simply a call for humanitarian action in order to get life-saving aid into Gaza at scale and to get the hostages out of captivity.&nbsp; The political wisdom and courage to vote in favor of this ceasefire was the bare minimum President Trump and his administration could have offered. More importantly, it’s what a majority of American citizens have wanted for some time now, including those who voted for President Trump. According to a March 2025 AP-NORC poll, 60% of Republicans now believe that ‘it’s essential’ for the U.S. to ‘facilitate a permanent ceasefire in Gaza’, and in May, a Data for Progress poll showed that 76% of Americans across political lines are in favour of an immediate ceasefire and would like to see the U.S. do its part to de-escalate the crisis in Gaza.&nbsp; By voting against the ceasefire and providing numerous misleading reasons for doing so afterward, President Trump ignored the views of a majority of Americans towards the increasingly desperate situation faced by Gaza’s besieged and starving population. The urgent question now is whether the 14 sovereign states that voted in favour of the resolution will quickly honour their votes with meaningful action. There’s so much that can be done, from pausing trade talks and relations to arms embargoes and sanctions, but the following three measures will send a strong, immediate message that there’s serious determination behind the condemnation. European, U.K., Turkish, and regional Arab States should join forces to provide a no-fly zone over Gaza. This action is the fastest way to stop Israel from prosecuting its deadly daily air strikes. I witnessed how it saved lives and paved the way to peace when NATO enforced a No Fly Zone over Bosnia for a thousand days between 1993 and 1995.&nbsp; A no-fly zone over Gaza will help calm tensions in the region and build a political and humanitarian space for more seasoned mediators to ensure the safe release of the Israeli hostages and for legitimate humanitarian aid actors to resume operations through the Karem Shalom, Erez, and other crossings into Gaza.&nbsp; Simultaneously, the deployment of French, Turkish, British, and Russian naval hospital ships already in or near the Mediterranean should sail to Gaza immediately, especially towards the North of the strip where no fully functioning hospitals remain and where people are dying for lack of basic medical supplies and infrastructure.&nbsp; This action will help save lives and lift the burden from Gaza’s devastated healthcare system until it’s given a chance to recover. Furthermore, the governments that voted in favor of the resolution must pressure Israel to facilitate immediate access for international journalists into Gaza.&nbsp; If a small sailboat in the Mediterranean and the thousands of ordinary citizens from 32 countries presently marching towards Gaza through Egypt can try to break Israel’s unlawful siege and blockade, surely the most powerful governments and navies from the Eurasian continent can do their part. (IPS) Melek Zahine is an international humanitarian and disaster response expert.

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Opinion

Saving what is left of Gaza

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

A Nepal-based <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/a-few-good-agents" target="_blank">ethical</a> migrant worker recruiter has created waves internationally to be only the second company worldwide to be certified recently under the International Recruitment Integrity System (<a href="https://iris.iom.int/" target="_blank">IRIS</a>). International Manpower Recruitment (IMR) was recognized for its high ethical recruitment standards. &nbsp;This comes as Nepal reels from news involving the misuse of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/revisiting-visit-visas" target="_blank">visit visas</a> by immigration officials, recruitment related <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/free-visa-free-ticket-policy-in-limbo" target="_blank">corruption</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrating-for-domestic-work" target="_blank">bans</a>, and vested interest groups which have overshadowed the role of migration as a powerful <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/migration-is-development" target="_blank">development</a> tool.&nbsp; IRIS is an initiative of the International Organization for Migration (IOM) to promote ethical recruitment of migrant workers. It is a bit like fair trade certifications for consumer products like coffee, tea or chocolate that assure conscious consumers that they are not complicit in labor abuses, even if it means having to pay a premium. Certifications like IRIS give responsible companies wanting to ethically hire Nepali workers more confidence that workers will not be cheated. It is remarkable that a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/fee-free-migration-is-possible" target="_blank">Nepali recruiter</a> has been recognised as a global pioneer in obtaining this certification after a rigorous audit process. Only one other recruiter in Singapore has received this global certification so far, and a Kenyan company got it after Nepal’s IMR. All this is happening when the international labour market is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/free-visa-free-ticket-policy-in-limbo" target="_blank">not yet ready</a> for ethical recruitment. Many employers still do not pay for the costs and fees that workers incur, unhealthy competition among recruiters persists, and individual brokers prey on workers. &nbsp;Complying with ethical practices therefore are not always generous, and can even threaten business sustainability of companies. IMR in Nepal has been one of the biggest recruiters in some years despite being ethical, but there have also been periods when the numbers have gone down to zero. The company was just recovering from Covid-19 impact when I first covered its work in this <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/a-few-good-agents" target="_blank">column</a> in 2021 titled ‘A Few Good Agents’. Just before the lockdowns IMR had lost business because Nepal <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-and-malaysia-rewrite-rules-for-migrant-labour" target="_blank">banned</a> the emigration of Nepalis to Malaysia, its primary destination market. Now, Malaysia has again <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/free-visa-free-ticket-policy-in-limbo" target="_blank">stopped</a> the intake of foreign workers. IMR has faced three big episodes of business downturn after it decided to become fully ethical in 2018. During such times when they sent very few workers—59 in 2019, 166 in 2020, and 75 in 2025 so far—traditional recruitment in which workers pay fees is always convenient and a profitable fall back option. There are many hiring companies looking for Nepali workers, but do not abide by the ‘employer pays’ principle. And many workers are desperate to migrate overseas even if it means by paying unjustifiably high recruitment fees.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250611080648_dc1079727ad0567a9cf457e8014e325b08cb54766bdf6f145021168237824985.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250611080648_dc1079727ad0567a9cf457e8014e325b08cb54766bdf6f145021168237824985" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Valuing moral migration NT"> </figure>  But ethical recruiters cannot fold to the pressures of business downturns, no matter how easy or tempting. To stay undeterred, what is required is commitment to ethical standards. The IRIS certification to Nepal’s IMR is a reward for precisely that: commitment. But how will this well-vetted stamp translate to jobs for Nepali workers? In theory, we can be hopeful that certifications like IRIS can help responsible hiring companies separate the wheat from the chaff since the industry is full of unethical players globally.&nbsp; It also may not always be practically feasible for employers to conduct their own due diligence as it can be time consuming, costly, and they may not be familiar with the Nepal market. The cost of not doing proper due diligence can also be damning for the reputation conscious brands.&nbsp; Exports from several Malaysian manufacturing companies, for example, were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/us-ban-on-malaysian-glove-exporter-affects-nepalis" target="_blank">banned</a> after forced labour allegations. UK scheme operators faced sector wide <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/low-hanging-fruit-in-uk-farms" target="_blank">reputation damage</a>, while also losing licenses. All this when there are reliable companies which could have conducted the same recruitment drives in a responsible manner, and there are desperate jobseekers who would excel at those jobs.&nbsp; With standards like IRIS, identifying the ‘few good agents’, will be easier. There is also hope that the business downturns for ethical actors will not come in such frequencies and last so long by making diversification to new markets and sectors easier. Now with certifications like IRIS, good recruiters can distinguish themselves with more authority.&nbsp; Diversification is often difficult as good actors in the space do not have the reach, network or other means to demonstrate that they are indeed a different breed. International certifications like IRIS bring more visibility to the end of the labour supply chain actors. The workers also need to understand what such certifications mean. All overseas opportunities in Nepal are advertised as ‘free visa free ticket’ to abide by the law and misused to an extent that no one takes it seriously.&nbsp; Certifications like IRIS and other ethical accreditations would help migrants identify reliable recruiters, rather than just <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/fee-free-migration-is-possible" target="_blank">relying</a> on familiar but fraudulent individual brokers who they trust more. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2F-mh1uk3fvQc%3Fsi%3DUhdQFbVY_olM4bg8&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> The value of this stamp of approval cannot be underestimated. After exposes of malpractice, the Nepali recruitment industry in the past has been tarred with the same brush, for example employers have pulled out from the UK seasonal visa recruitment.&nbsp; This is not a positive outcome for job seekers deprived of good recruitment opportunities. With certifications like IRIS, journalists, activists and others can also be more constructive in their exposés by putting the spotlight on ‘alternate’, well-vetted players and good practices.&nbsp; If these expectations from international certifications can translate to practice and ethical recruiters like IMR see their businesses expand, it will have a positive spillover effect across the industry. A strong business case for ethical recruitment standards will inspire more actors to forego ridiculously high profits from the traditional worker-paid model and transition from traditional to hybrid methods, then from hybrid to ethical models. Already, there are a handful of professional recruiters in Nepal who are committed to ethical recruitment and have received other international certifications. A critical mass of ethical actors in the space would raise the standards of the Nepali recruitment industry as a whole. Recruiters serve an important purpose which is often easy to overlook amidst all the malpractices by linking workers from the remotest parts of Nepal to rewarding, jobs abroad. The positive spillover also goes beyond the recruitment industry to achieve larger development goals. For example, <a href="https://www.migration-lab.com/" target="_blank">Migration Lab</a> has partnered with IMR in two projects to send workers from marginalised communities including <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/migration-is-development" target="_blank">Musahar</a> youth and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-survivors-migrate-for-work" target="_blank">Jajarkot</a> earthquake victims to Malaysia at zero cost.&nbsp; These were <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mh1uk3fvQc" target="_blank">piloted</a> to making migration accessible to those in the periphery, which <a href="https://documents1.worldbank.org/curated/en/099951004022532326/pdf/IDU-c2bf0781-1145-4639-8b64-321016ade046.pdf" target="_blank">it is not</a>. Migration is a powerful tool and using it strategically for good is possible, provided recruitment drives are free from the usual malpractice and abuse. We are still a long way from the practice where hiring companies and workers will actively seek out recruiters who are well vetted with internationally recognised certifications. But the fact that a Nepali recruiter has achieved a demanding international certification, and is the second in the world to do so, is promising.&nbsp; Upasana Khadka heads <a href="https://www.migration-lab.com/">Migration Lab</a>, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Upasana Khadka

Valuing moral migration

On 3 June I was woken up at 5:30am by a call from a Kuwait-based domestic worker. A common friend had put us in touch.
“Why are you up?” I asked Sharmila, knowing that it was close to 3 AM in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-in-kuwait-apply-to-return-home">Kuwait</a>. She had just got off work. Yet, that was the least of her problems.
It was her first day at this new house, where she had arrived at 9pm. Her previous employer had not been good, so with much difficulty she had been ‘returned’ to the placement office that had brought her to Kuwait.
This time, she was hopeful things would be better. At the placement office, where she waited for three weeks, there were around two dozen ‘khadama’ like her from Nepal and Sri Lanka waiting to get placed in other houses. The Nepalis, she said, had come either on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/go-away">visit visas </a>through the UAE or through India to bypass the ban on domestic workers.
Sharmila herself had come via India. Regardless of which route they came from, they were legal since the Kuwaiti placement office that brought them are legally registered and workers had valid papers.
Meanwhile in Nepal, a ‘visit visa scandal’ has broken. The Centre for Investigation of the Abuse of Authority (CIAA) is investigating immigration officials, among others, over misuse of visit visas to facilitate human trafficking in exchange for big bribes.
There is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-comment">social media outrage</a> in Nepal’s cybersphere, and calls for Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak’s resignation. That migrant workers travel on visit visas or via irregular routes such as India is well known. That there are ‘settings’ at airports with attached rates so everyone involved can get a cut is also open secret, and has always been.
A primary reason for the misuse of visit visas is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrating-for-domestic-work" target="_blank">ban</a> on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/history-of-female-im-mobility-in-nepal" target="_blank">domestic workers</a>. To be sure, there are others who also use visit visas for short-term work since the government does not approve short-term labour permits no matter how lucrative the stint.
Nepalis traveling to countries like the US through unconventional routes, jobseekers keen to find employment in the destination country itself, or by recruiters who want to circumvent legal safeguards or because there are delays in paperwork.
The misuse of visit visas under the guise of tourism is a consequence of restrictive policies like the domestic worker <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ban-the-ban" target="_blank">ban</a> ostensibly to protect them from abuse. And when there are massive profits involved, there is also little incentive to change. Persistent bans on overseas household work have lasted despite failure to contain migrants, and the unintended but predictable risks they put outgoing workers in.
In the government’s eyes, someone like Sharmila is non-existent as a migrant because she did not receive labour approval. Her agent is non-existent because she did not travel through a vetted recruitment agency in Nepal. Her employer is non-existent because they did not have to get the ‘demand’ attested at the Nepal Embassy.
All these details would have been well-documented had domestic workers been able to migrate regularly. Domestic or care work is already an invisible sector and the ban puts workers even more at risk from exploitation and abuse.
Meanwhile complicit recruiters and employers get a pass without any accountability. Only vetted recruiters who meet criteria that are stricter than that for regular worker recruitment should be allowed to arrange jobs abroad for domestic workers. Sharmila relied on an unauthorised individual agent who she never met in person, and who did not even turn on his camera when they had video calls.
The ban not only means that workers leave through irregular channels many are also inexperienced and unprepared. Talk to any <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/every-day-is-closer-to-pay-day" target="_blank">domestic worker</a>, especially new ones, and they will tell you how the first few months are the hardest. Modern home appliances are foreign to them and there are language barriers. As per the law, domestic workers have to go through mandatory training specifically designed for them which they are deprived of because of the ban.
“I have never taken care of babies in my life,” Sharmila said on the phone. “How will I take care of the children here?”
Women’s access to jobs, both in Nepal and overseas, needs attention. Sharmila, for example, said that she could not afford the Rs200,000 that was demanded for a cleaning job in the UAE. As an orphan, no one wanted to give her loans even at high interest rates. For her job as a domestic worker in Kuwait, she did not have to pay any fee.
Many migrants land <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/homes-away-from-home" target="_blank">good homes</a>, and they do not look at the agents as villains but as enablers who helped them bypass the ban. How else would they be employed and provide for their families? A bad migration episode does not deter many from retrying their luck again through irregular channels.
Instead of the ban, more concerted, proactive <a href="https://migrationpolicycentre.eu/wp-content/uploads/2023/10/1st_dilemma_4th_response.pdf" target="_blank">efforts</a> to manage this highly vulnerable sector rife with abuse are needed via stronger embassies, bilateral labor agreements, monitoring, pre-departure training and awareness campaigns, Regular communication, as well as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrating-for-domestic-work" target="_blank">alternate</a> jobs both domestically and overseas.
This problem is not unique to Nepal. Sri Lanka’s <a href="https://www.wider.unu.edu/sites/default/files/Publications/Working-paper/PDF/wp2021-44-ban-on-female-migrant-workers-skills-differentiated-evidence-Sri-Lanka.pdf" target="_blank">restrictive policies on</a> emigration has encouraged informal and illegal activities involving lower-skilled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration">female migrant workers </a>because they have to circumvent the policy. This has led to higher exposure to recruitment related vulnerabilities and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-s-corruption-carousel">corruption</a>.
In a former diaspora-run paper called Sahayatra, UAE-based Dalbir Singh captured in 2007 the views of many UAE-based migrants regarding the government <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lift-the-ban-on-domestic-workers">ban on domestic workers</a>. Migrants had a similar view: that domestic work sector should not be banned given that it puts workers in more vulnerability, but more protection is needed given the vulnerabilities in the sector.
The article noted that a river should not be blocked just because it floods. It was known 18 years ago and even earlier that bans do not protect domestic workers, and there is a long history of flip-flopping between bans of various kinds.
The last one was put in place in 2017 after a Parliamentary committee visited the Gulf and decided it was unsafe for domestic workers, regardless of gender. After a similar 2020 trip, the committee instructed the government to revisit the ban considering country-specific policies and several preconditions, which were still deemed restrictive, but better than previous rules. Implementation has been weak despite the proposal around <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/ban-on-female-migrant-workers-to-be-lifted" target="_blank">lifting</a> the ban starting with a pilot agreement with the UAE.
Will the latest ’visit visa scandal’ lead to constructive discussions around how to manage emigration better? Or will it just lead to a further clamp down on visit visa misuse by proposing bizarre alternates as has been done in the past? The most recent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/history-of-female-im-mobility-in-nepal" target="_blank">proposal</a> that got quashed, for example, included a requirement to get "written consent from the guardian and local government for women under 40 to travel to the gulf and Africa.”
For <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">Nepali youth</a> with a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/push-factors-driving-nepalis-out">preference for overseas jobs</a>, there are enough vacancies and unfilled jobs in the world. They do not have to be compelled to become fake visitors, seek backdoor entry as students, rely on unauthorised agents, or even fight wars.
But for that we need to prioritise regular, safe pathways and responsible employers, and not create bottlenecks in the name of protection.
BANNING and UNBANNING
Timeline of Nepal regulations on overseas household work
1985-1995
&gt; Consent required from a guardian to go for foreign employment.
1995-2000
&gt; Women permitted to go for foreign employment in certain organised sectors (1997)
&gt; Ban on labour migration for women (1998)
2000-2005
&gt; Conditional ban provided women obtains security guarantee from Nepal’s diplomatic missions in countries outside the Gulf (2000)
&gt; Reapproval needed after visiting Nepal (2003)
&gt; Letter of approval from local governments and family members (2003)
&gt; Foreign employment for females in organised sector in Malaysia opened (2005)&nbsp;
2005-2010
&gt; Restrictions on female migrants to work in organised sector lifted (2007-2008)
&gt; Complete ban on domestic workers to Lebanon (2009)
&gt; Ban lifted for women to go to Gulf countries.
2010-2015
&gt; Women allowed to migrate to any country including as domestic workers with a government target of 150,000 female migrants, mostly to Gulf countries (2011)
&gt; Age ban for women domestic workers less than 30 years to work in Gulf countries (2012)
&gt; Temporary ban on domestic workers in Gulf countries (20-14)
&gt; Age ban for women under 25 for domestic workers in Gulf countries (2015)
2015-2020&nbsp;
&gt; Women above 24 allowed for domestic work through select recruitment agencies if a separate bilateral agreement is signed (2016)
&gt; Ban on domestic workers after field visit by Parliament Committee (2017)
&gt; Ban lifted for current domestic workers to visit Nepal during holidays and remigrate (2019)
&gt; Parliament committee recommends country-specific approach instead of blanket ban (2020)&nbsp;

Labour Mobility

Revisiting visit visas

Israel’s ongoing war of annihilation in Gaza has wiped out hospitals, schools, homes, water, and food, reducing the Palestinian territory to a wasteland and leaving a death toll of more than 53,000 people. But an equally lethal campaign has been unleashed against the foundations of Palestinian society and identity.
The Israeli Defense Force (IDF) has targeted libraries, repositories, and institutions of Palestinian culture and heritage in a mission to eradicate the history, literary accomplishments, and political and social existence of Palestine as a place and people.
“The losses in Gaza are vast, incalculable, as we are still in the throes of a genocidal war that has already destroyed 70% of the Gaza Strip and killed or maimed 10% of its embattled population,” says Raja Khalidi, Co-Administrator of the Khalidi Library, an Arab public library founded by the Khalidi family in East Jerusalem more than a century ago. “So has the Israeli war machine in Gaza and the West Bank wrought indiscriminate destruction that threatens erasure of Palestinian written, architectural, and archaeological cultural heritage.”
In a recent report on the destruction of libraries, archives, and museums in Gaza since the conflict erupted in 2023, the solidarity organisation <a href="https://librarianswithpalestine.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/LAP-Gaza-Report-2024.pdf">Librarians and Archivists with Palestine</a> (LAP) stated that “the destruction of cultural heritage in Gaza impoverishes the collective identity of the Palestinian people, irrevocably denies them their history, and violates their sovereignty.”
“The greatest loss remains the normalisation of the daily massacres of Gazans, including children. Every Palestinian life is a record, a history. The Zionist war machine realises this and the targeting of children, in particular, is an attempt at destroying the future narrative of Palestine,” says Ahmad Almallah, a Palestinian poet who grew up in Bethlehem and now lives in Philadelphia in the United States.
Bordered by Israel to the east and the Mediterranean Sea to the west, Gaza comprises 365 square kilometers of land that is home to about 2.1 million Muslim and Christian Palestinians who have lived under siege for more than half a century. Many Palestinians fled to Gaza following Israeli dispossession of their villages and homes during the Al-Nakba, or the ‘Catastrophe,’ in 1948. Then the territory was part of Egypt. Israel subsequently seized Gaza during the Six-Day War of 1967 until 1993, when the Oslo Accords made way for it to be administered by the Palestinian Authority.
The Islamic resistance organisation, Hamas, then took power in 2005. Its launching of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack">raid and attack within Israel in October 2023</a>, which resulted in the death of 1,200 Israelis with 251 taken hostage, triggered the current Gaza war. Since then, the IDF has sustained a relentless military onslaught leading to the obliteration of every facility for human habitation in Gaza and the escalation of a <a href="https://apnews.com/article/hamas-israel-gaza-crisis-hunger-palestinians-war-9caf8f6eb19efe038c1fd50aa1d2d8ec">humanitarian crisis</a> due to lack of food, water, shelter, and medical services.
While a ceasefire began on 19 January, disputes between Israel and Hamas about progress in hostage and prisoner exchanges led to the <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cq6yp5d5v9jo">ceasefire fracturing on 18 March</a>. The IDF resumed its offensive with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu further threatening to <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/israel-gaza-hamas-katz-annex-idf-palestinian-witkoff-rcna197434">annex parts of Gaza</a>.
This month <a href="https://www.unesco.org/en/gaza/assessment">UNESCO</a> reported that Israel had destroyed 107 important cultural sites in the Palestinian enclave, including historic buildings, mosques, churches, and museums. And last year, LAP detailed the damage and destruction of <a href="https://librarianswithpalestine.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/LAP-Gaza-Report-2024.pdf">22 libraries and archives</a>, including Gaza’s Central Archives, which contained valuable documentation of the enclave’s 150-year history. 
The Diana Tamari Sabbagh Library, which held tens of thousands of books, was also destroyed, as was the Omari Mosque and Library, which was built in the 7th century and held a major collection of rare books dating to the 14th century. Four university libraries in Gaza also suffered damage, including the Al-Quds Open University Library and the Jawaharlal Nehru Library of Gaza’s Al-Azhar University. Historical records destroyed in Gaza include those that proved Palestinian land and property ownership.‘
Several years ago, the occupation destroyed the National Library in Gaza, razing its towering structure to the ground. With its destruction, the dream of creating a repository for both ancient and modern Palestinian works was obliterated. The site that once promised to preserve a rich cultural heritage became little more than a platform for displaying political party flags and leaders’ portraits,’ Palestinian novelist <a href="https://internationaleonline.org/contributions/the-library-and-the-massacre-a-novelists-testimony-on-the-destruction-of-libraries-in-the-gaza-strip/">Yousri al-Ghoul</a> wrote in January.
The current conflict continues attempts to erase Palestinian history and identity that began during the <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-nakba-how-the-palestinians-were-expelled-from-israel-205151">Al-Nakba</a> when Palestinian homes and their contents were looted and destroyed.
“As a child of the first intifada in Palestine, even words, the raw material for books, were very dangerous toys to play with. The Israeli occupation banned using the word ‘Palestine,’ and children and teenagers caught inscribing the word on a wall were either shot dead or arrested and subjected to torture. But that didn’t stop Palestinians from writing the word and piling on it poems, literature, and personal and natural history,” adds Almallah.
Together with this loss, Palestinian writers, intellectuals, artists, and journalists have been killed, putting in jeopardy the continuity of knowledge and culture within society and its transmission to the next generation. Those who have lost their lives since 2023 include the writer <a href="https://www.all4palestine.org/ModelDetails.aspx?gid=7&amp;mid=121099&amp;lang=en">Abdul Karim Hashash</a>, who has written many books on Palestinian poetry and culture, and <a href="https://madisonrafah.org/meca-colleague-and-friend-doaa-al-masri-killed-in-gaza/">Doaa Al-Masri</a>, Librarian at Gaza’s Edward Said Library.
In 2016 the International Criminal Court identified the desecration of a people’s cultural heritage as a <a href="https://news.un.org/en/story/2016/09/541172">war crime</a> in a case about Islamist attacks on UNESCO-protected monuments in Timbuktu in Mali. Subsequently, in 1954, <a href="https://www.unesco.org/en/heritage-armed-conflicts/1954-convention">the Hague Convention</a>, an international treaty stipulating the protection of cultural property in armed conflicts, was established and has now been signed by 136 countries.
More recently, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-67922346">South Africa</a> included allegations of cultural dispossession in the case it launched in 2023 of genocide by Israel in Gaza in the International Court of Justice (ICJ). It will likely take the court years to reach a ruling. But in January last year, it issued initial orders to Israel to prevent and punish acts and public incitement to commit genocide by its military, an order that Israel continues to ignore.
“The international community has failed Palestinians, it has failed Gaza now. It has not done anything to stop the genocide and the massacring of children. I don’t expect they will do anything to save our books. But despite all Zionist attempts to silence them, we are witnessing Palestine becoming part of world heritage; Palestine is now everywhere,” says Almallah.
In the meantime, there are important institutions in the region taking action to ensure the tactics of erasure will not succeed. In Jerusalem, the <a href="https://www.khalidilibrary.org/en">Khalidi Library</a>, which is home to a rich collection of thousands of books and Islamic manuscripts representing an Arab literary heritage over many centuries, is a testament to cultural resilience. It also conducts extensive manuscript conservation, restoration, and digitization work and has been a pillar of vibrant Palestinian scholarship, thought, and writing since the early 20th century.
Khalidi emphasised that, looking ahead, in any reconstruction plan for post-war Gaza, “the first task will be for competent organisations, such as UNESCO, to launch a proper survey of the destruction of cultural heritage in Gaza… then ensure the future preservation and restoration or digitisation of salvaged collections.”
<a href="https://www.ipsnews.net/2025/05/palestinians-call-out-israels-mission-to-destroy-their-history-and-cultural-heritage-in-gaza/">Republished</a> under an arrangement with Inter Press Service (IPS).

The loss of an identity

With just under two months remaining till the end of the current fiscal year, the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-government-changes-again"> Nepal government</a> this week is set to announce its budget for the year 2025/26.&nbsp; Nepal’s budget has grown steadily over the past decade, from Rs618 billion in the fiscal year 2014/15 to Rs1.79 trillion in 2022/23. But this upward trend tells only half the story, as the total expenditure has consistently fallen short of the planned budget.&nbsp; Short of flamboyant promises and populist schemes, successive Nepali governments, regardless of party, have consistently failed to utilise the allocated budget. This year, Nepal spent just 36% of the allocated development budget. Such recurrent underspending diminishes the government's ability to simulate the<a href="https://www.econlib.org/library/Topics/Details/aggregatedemand.html#:~:text=What%20Is%20Aggregate%20Demand%3F,%2C%20services%2C%20and%20capital%20goods." target="_blank"> aggregate demand</a> and slows economic growth.&nbsp; The country’s current annual average total expenditure shortfall is just over 20%, largely due to bureaucratic and institutional inefficiencies that continue to hamper budget implementation. Furthermore, poorly-made project proposals, shoddy planning, slow-moving procurement activities, quick turnover of technical staff, and inefficient inter-ministerial coordination contribute to a limited capacity to administer development across Nepal.&nbsp; This has led to a culture of frantic, &nbsp;last-minute budget spending on Nepal, with <a href="https://internationalbudget.org/wp-content/uploads/Nepal-Budget-Credibility-and-the-Sustainable-Development-Goals.pdf" target="_blank">40</a>% of the allocated development expenditure spent on the final month of the fiscal year, leading to a misuse of resources and poor project results. These inadequacies are compounded by the lack of coordination between federal, provincial, and local governments, especially as capacity constraints at the subnational level have been a long-standing issue. Experts express particular concern over provincial and local governments, where staff are often short on technical skill and administrative know-how required for budget implementation.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250528030544_6eb2a05152532fbffd1ec32f130b0d030baf2b46963be269b68bc50417d1a814.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250528030544_6eb2a05152532fbffd1ec32f130b0d030baf2b46963be269b68bc50417d1a814" data-rendition-name="original" width="512" height="485" loading="lazy" alt="Budget NT"> </figure>  For instance, provincial governments spent just 34% and local governments spent 24.4% of its budget in the fiscal year 2022/2023, which suggests a persistent deficit in planning, implementation, and resource management. &nbsp;&nbsp; A breakdown of the recurrent and capital expenditures reveals even deeper dysfunctions and gaps between the allocated and actual spending of recurrent and capital expenditure. Recurrent expenses are government spending to maintain <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepals-uncivil-servants">public services</a> and administration, including interest, pensions, salaries, social security, and subsidies. Meanwhile, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/till-debt-do-us-part">capital expenditure</a> involves investing in long-term assets such as development programs, equipment, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure">infrastructure projects </a>to expand the productive capacity of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/now-the-economy-stupid">economy</a>. As it stands, Nepal’s recurrent expenditure is staggering compared to capital spending. <a href="https://scispace.com/papers/relationship-between-capital-and-recurrent-expenditure-with-hpoenzfmk4" target="_blank">Studies</a> show that the money spent on recurrent expenditure tends to have a stronger and more immediate effect on the GDP.&nbsp; In the fiscal year 2022/2023, Rs1.18 trillion was allocated for recurrent spending, while Rs380 billion was earmarked for capital expenditure. However, actual spending fell short of allocations in both expenditures, with recurrent expenditure falling short by an annual average of 14.7% and capital expenditure by a much larger average of 35.30% over the last nine years. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; This consistent underspending in capital expenditure is particularly alarming, and has direct impacts on the macroeconomy. It also plays a crucial role in creating economic momentum through the proper business <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-invest-in-nepal">investment </a>climate and business confidence.&nbsp; When capital expenditure falls short, aggregate demand contracts result in fewer<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive"> employment opportunities</a>, reduced household consumption, and delayed infrastructure projects that discourage business investment.&nbsp; Meanwhile, the dominance of recurrent expenditure driven by rising administrative and social security expenditures continues to crowd out funds for capital investment, perpetuating a cycle where budget numbers grow, but transformative development fails to take shape. &nbsp; The core challenge in Nepal's budget execution can be explained by the <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/social-sciences/principal-agent-theory" target="_blank">principal-agent</a> problem theory - an economic theory that explains the misalignment of conflicting incentives between two parties. In the context of Nepal, the Ministry of Finance is the principal authority that allocates the budgets and resources, while the line ministries are the agents assigned to propose and execute the budget.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250528030544_3b3b12a4065ae34b9703e848ff91f40ff570ce4b771e44d4338c4b134054f42e.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250528030544_3b3b12a4065ae34b9703e848ff91f40ff570ce4b771e44d4338c4b134054f42e" data-rendition-name="original" width="512" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Budget NT"> </figure>  However, a disconnect in incentives between the Finance Ministry and line ministries often leads to budget misallocations, which in turn cause inefficiencies and poor budget outcomes. &nbsp; One of the key dimensions of the problem is asymmetric information. The Line ministries possess detailed information of their needs and priorities in projects that are unavailable and unverifiable to the MOF. This information gap further incentivises ministries to propose higher budgets than actually needed.&nbsp; This is common behavior and expected in budget negotiations, as ministries compete for limited funds and seek to maximise their budget. Consequently, funds may be disproportionately allocated to ministries that lobby more effectively or exaggerate needs rather than those that would deliver the greatest public benefit. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-in-the-red">Nepal in the red</a>, Ramesh Kumar This budgetary misallocation distorts not only priority projects &nbsp;but also induces &nbsp;inefficiencies in implementation. Where funds flow into inefficient use as a result, the government cannot deliver effective services or complete development projects within scheduled deadlines. This results in delayed spending, wastage of resources, and underperformance, which undermine economic growth and confidence in government. &nbsp; Closing the persistent gap between allocated total budgets and total expenditures and between the allocated and actual recurrent and capital expenditures requires the Finance Ministry to strengthen its <a href="https://ieg.worldbankgroup.org/what-monitoring-and-evaluation" target="_blank">monitoring and evaluation</a> to appropriately administer resources after the budget announcement.&nbsp; For this, the Finance Ministry must ensure effective monitoring of how line ministries spend their allocated funds throughout the fiscal year, so that it can hold the other ministries accountable and identify bottlenecks or time delays in budget implementation. This can be achieved through periodic reporting of progress, linking budget release with performance, and using combined financial management information systems. In addition, linking future budget allocations to ministries’ past performance in budget utilisation would create stronger incentives for responsible and efficient spending. When ministries know that their ability to secure funds in the next fiscal year depends on how well they manage and execute their current budget, they are more likely to submit realistic proposals and prioritise timely implementation. Doing so would help to synchronize the incentives of the Finance Ministry and line ministries in order for Nepal to effectively execute the budget and direct resources toward projects aligned with our national priorities, ultimately minimising the country’s budget deficit. Siddhartha Rayamajhi holds a BA in Economics from Kathmandu University.

How Nepal can budget wisely

A growing number of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">adult adoptees of Nepali origin have started returning to the land of their birth</a>, and seeking not only emotional reconnection but formal recognition through the Non-resident Nepali (NRN) card or citizenship.&nbsp; But these returnees are too often met not with welcome, but with suspicion, obstruction, and at times, open hostility.&nbsp; After becoming the first adoptee to obtain an NRN card, I recently returned to Nepal to successfully claim <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-citizenship-amendment-bill-explained">NRN-citizenship</a>. That success does not signify a welcoming state structure towards adoptees. On the contrary, it was an odyssey through psychological, legal and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better">transnational hurdles</a>. In fact, my case is among the more straightforward ones: my birth parents are alive, and my adoption paperwork is complete and legally valid. Yet even in this privileged scenario, officials created several hurdles and used intimidation instead of supporting my <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/now-what">return to Nepal</a>, which would be expected from a public service agency. I was able to counter this with legal knowledge and persistence.&nbsp; But for most adoptees it is not so easy. A systemic overhaul is urgently needed. Thousands of children were involuntarily removed from their country of birth under fabricated or incomplete documentation. Then there is the negligence of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15215">adoption </a>agencies and government institutions, which often failed to preserve adoption records. Nepal’s citizenship laws are built on assumptions that do not hold for internationally adopted citizens -- they presume patrilineal continuity, uninterrupted documentation, and lifelong presence within the country. But <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-baby-export">intercountry adoption</a> especially interrupts all of these.&nbsp; It severs legal ties with birth parents, replaces surnames, and shifts <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19930">jurisdiction abroad</a>. What remains is often a fragile or incomplete paper trail, if at all. Yet adoptees are still expected to prove family ties that the law itself dissolved, claim a birthplace without official records, and seek recognition while being treated as foreigners. At first glance, it may seem as though we as adult adoptees are asking to be written into a legal framework that was never meant for us. But this perception ignores both <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/nepal-s-history-foretold">Nepal’s historical promises</a> and the core of its own <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-unequal-citizenship-law">citizenship policy</a>. The country follows jus sanguinis — the right of blood — as its guiding principle, meaning that descent from a Nepali parent should be sufficient to establish eligibility. In theory, this includes adoptees who can prove their birth and parentage. But the practical process demands documentation that many adoptees simply do not possess due to systemic negligence during the adoption era such as a citizenship certificate of a parent or grandparent, an original Nepali birth certificate, verified family links, or a local ward recommendation. The structural failure of the government to rectify those mistakes and grant birthright citizenship is in violation of the human rights of its five thousand adoptees. In my own file, for example, my birth father and adoptive parents signed a clause agreeing not to erase my religion or name and to facilitate my return to Nepal. These were not symbolic gestures — they were official commitments enshrined in Nepali legal documents. They demonstrate an intention by the Nepali state to protect the child’s identity and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-assam-connection-revived">connection to the country</a>, not to erase it.&nbsp; The state must therefore do its part to honor the clauses it required others to sign. Failing to do so does not just betray individual adoptees—it undermines <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/constitutional-guardianship-in-nepal">Nepal’s credibility in its own legal system</a> and its obligations under <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/stop-stalling-transitional-justice-global-human-rights-bodies">international human rights</a> and children’s rights frameworks.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250522230540_980907d76717d6d91e3f40ac73cdbddd83fe2887f385994541aa19ea4f434992.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250522230540_980907d76717d6d91e3f40ac73cdbddd83fe2887f385994541aa19ea4f434992" data-rendition-name="original" width="1015" height="922" loading="lazy" alt="Born in Nepal, treated as a foreigner NT"> <figcaption>Adoption agreement between Kul Prasad Adhikari and the family Sacré-Bonnarens with official government stamps detailing Clause 3 about facilitating the return of the adoptee to his/her own country. </figcaption> </figure>  Yet, what adult adoptees now face is the opposite. The hostility we encounter at orphanages, local wards, and District Administration Offices (DAO) stands in sharp contrast to the protective spirit of the original documents. More troubling still is the contradiction between Nepal’s 2010 suspension of intercountry adoption — initiated after international concern over <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/children-and-crime">child trafficking</a>, falsified documentation, and lack of regulatory oversight — and its ongoing refusal to facilitate the legal return of adoptees.&nbsp; Reports by UNICEF and Hague Conference observers documented cases of children being declared<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4734"> orphans </a>while biological families were still alive, prompting countries like the US, France, and Italy to halt adoptions from Nepal.&nbsp; In 2007 and again in 2010, Nepal pledged reform, but while the pipeline of adoptions was shut down, no system was created for those sent abroad to come back home. The very individuals whose lives were shaped by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/higher-corruption-in-high-places">the corrupt system </a>Nepal sought to abolish are now being left in limbo. Here are four moments from my NRN citizenship application that highlight the scale of the problem: "You’re not Nepali!"&nbsp; -Kaski DAO official holding my birth certificate At the Kaski DAO office, I was told to my face, while the officer held my Nepali birth certificate in his hands, that I was not Nepali. My Belgian citizenship documents also stated my place of birth as Kaski, and my adoption papers clarified my connection to my birth and adoptive parents. Yet the verdict was final. It was only after we requested to speak to the Deputy Officer and argued based on Nepal’s own adoption documents that we were permitted to begin the procedure. Ironically, the Legal Handbook for Non-Resident Nepalis explicitly lists birth in Nepal as one of the primary forms of proof for establishing NRN eligibility, yet even this was dismissed at the local level. "You don’t speak Nepali, you’re not Nepali!"&nbsp; -Kaski DAO official Several officers opposed the Deputy's decision. They began obstructing the process, questioning my motive, and ridiculing my language ability. One insisted that I respond without my lawyer, as if speaking Nepali, even imperfectly, could serve as legal proof of citizenship.&nbsp; Another official absurdly accused me of speaking with a Hindi accent. I was told, over and over again, that I was not Nepali. Yet language proficiency is not a criterion for citizenship by descent, making these remarks not only discriminatory but legally unfounded. I know my rights and persevered, but many adoptees would be deterred by such hostile behaviour. "You faked your birth certificate!"&nbsp; -Kaski DAO official The accusation of forgery came from a more senior officer. Like most adoptees, I only had English translations of my adoption records, and the originals were not preserved by the ward office. The ward office of my birth parents facilitated the renewal of the certificate based on the English translation. The Embassy of Nepal in Belgium had accepted this same document for my NRN card. Yet at the Kaski DAO office, it became grounds for suspicion. Here lies the deeper issue for adoptees: due to incomplete or untranslated records, ward offices often need to reconstruct or reissue birth certificates to align with the format required for legal procedures in Nepal. If Nepal failed to preserve its records, why punish the adoptee? "You should be grateful you’re even considered for citizenship!"&nbsp; -Kaski DAO official Despite having fulfilled every legal requirement, my file was repeatedly placed at the bottom of the pile. When we questioned the delay, we were told to be grateful that I was even being considered. But citizenship is not a gesture of goodwill. It is a legal right. Adoptees, like all Nepalis born <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/born-in-nepal">in Nepal</a>, are entitled to that right, regardless of where they grew up. The ability of lower-level staff to delay or obstruct files at their discretion reveals a deeper structural problem: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-must-reboot-human-rights-rule-of-law">access to rights in Nepal</a> too often depends not on the law, but on the personal attitudes of those tasked with upholding it. While the hostility was jarring, there were also moments of empathy. The Deputy Officer and Chief Officer acted with integrity, supported my case, and even apologised for the unnecessary delays. But this does not erase the need for structural change. Adoptees returning to claim citizenship are not asking for special treatment. They are invoking rights already granted to them under international law, including<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16505"> the Convention on the Rights of the Child </a>and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. These frameworks guarantee the right to identity, family, and nationality. Nepal has an obligation to honour them. Countries like<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/delayed-dreams-for-korea-bound-nepalis"> South Korea </a>have embraced returnee adoptees as part of their diaspora. Nepal must do the same. Public education campaigns and training for administrative staff are urgent. DAO officers must be equipped to understand who adoptees are, what records they can bring, and how their return is not a threat, but a form of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/justice-delayed-justice-denied-byrx8a1c">justice</a>. The roughly 5,000 Nepali children adopted abroad were once exported as orphans. Now, many are returning as adults — educated, legally prepared, and determined. They are not visitors. They are citizens.&nbsp; And they will not wait. They will claim their rights, case by case, until the system is forced to evolve. Hari Prasad Adhikari Sacré, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at Ghent University in Belgium, specialising in education, multilingualism, identity and intercountry adoption.

Born in Nepal, treated as a foreigner

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-face-of-a-himalayan-climate-crisis" target="_blank">Janmu Sherpa</a> was a grandmother with a dozen goats and a tea house in Donggang in the Rolwaling Valley. Her stopover served trekkers en route to Tso Rolpa Glacial Lake and the trail over Tashi Laptsa Pass to Khumbu. In 2018, I spent months in the Rolwaling Valley studying how <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/rastraraj_bhandari_what_climate_activists_are_doing_wrong" target="_blank">mountain communities perceive</a> climate change. Unlike my climate-anxious self, Janmu was calm, even hopeful, despite having lived through floods, landslides, and the 2015 earthquakes. “No one knows when Tso Rolpa will burst, so we cannot stop our daily chores. Let fate decide,” Janmu Sherpa had said. Last year, fate did decide. On 22 June 2024, the Dorji Phungmo Glacial Lake burst. The resulting flood swept through the Rolwaling River, washing away homes and hotels in Donggang. Janmu <a href="https://thehimalayantimes.com/nepal/climbers-valley-devastated-by-floods-immediate-relief-sought" target="_blank">was among</a> the missing, and later declared dead.&nbsp; I learned of her disappearance during a recent cycling trip through Panauti along the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-flood-of-tears-on-the-rosi" target="_blank">Rosi Khola</a>, which was devastated by deadly flash floods on 28 September 2024.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051918054_14898953b7a5808b51440f7a6fa35a7d66146bbb1d62bf88729a83a558ca8ebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025051918054_14898953b7a5808b51440f7a6fa35a7d66146bbb1d62bf88729a83a558ca8ebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A pre-monsoon déjà vu"> <figcaption>Tso Rolpa glacial lake at 4,580m has grown seven times in size in the past 60 years due to global warming. </figcaption> </figure>  Tipper trucks rumbled through the dusty road, carrying stones and gravel from unregulated quarries and sand mining along the Rosi. This was destruction disguised as development, and the crusher industries had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers" target="_blank">magnified the impact of record rainfall</a>. On the other side of the mountain, along the Lele and Karmanasa Khola, families are still reeling from last year’s floods. Here, too, a quarrying frenzy exacerbated the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster">destructive power of the floods</a>. There are thousands of untold stories like Janmu, and the estimated 200 who perished in the September floods. Most have been forgotten, their deaths blamed on fate. I write this from afar, as Kathmandu hosts the Sagarmatha Sambaad this week to draw global attention to the impact of the climate crisis on the Himalaya. The summit took place as pre-monsoon rains lashed the Rosi and Lele Valleys. Even before the start of the rainy season, more debris flows from the mining operations destroyed repaired roads and neighbourhoods rebuilt after floods last year. The rivers that flooded Kathmandu in September 2024 are still vulnerable. Aside from a few sandbanks built by local hands, nothing has changed. No national reckoning. No systemic response. Instead, everything is blamed on climate change.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051918054_57fa57586b1e370e715daf837aa4cae3e73b0f029bb0ccef8be768e85656cc5f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025051918054_57fa57586b1e370e715daf837aa4cae3e73b0f029bb0ccef8be768e85656cc5f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1499" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A pre-monsoon déjà vu NT"> <figcaption>Janmu Sherpa's village of Donggang is directly downstream from Tso Rolpa Glacial Lake.</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="http://as%20kathmandu%20hosts%20the%20sagarmatha%20sambaad/" target="_blank">Janmu Sherpa’s story</a> haunts me not just because of her loss, but because she shaped my journey as a climate activist. She taught me that climate action is not just about carbon or conferences, it is about livelihoods, listening, and the impossible trade-offs faced by communities where survival is more urgent than sustainability. As monsoon clouds gather again, there is a sense of dread not just about floods, but for the apathy that follows. We are trapped in a cycle of climate inaction fueled by corruption, state neglect, and a development model that treats rivers as resources to be drained, not lifelines to be protected. It is no longer a question of if the floods will come, but when, and how devastating they will be. And yet, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/politicians-and-cronies-blamed-for-kavre-floods" target="_blank">those in power remain unmoved</a> even when disaster strikes their own backyard. We are still chasing climate finance and hosting international summits, while local insurance markets stagnate and communities fend for themselves. To be sure, global advocacy matters. The Himalayan climate crisis must be on the international agenda. Melting glaciers here affect billions downstream. But adaptation cannot begin and end in air-conditioned conference halls. It must bring real preparedness to villages, valleys, and riverbanks of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051918058_3ec77114d434385351ad1637fd5ab42dc6a76b94b0e90f1c6e683c71535f6e6a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025051918058_3ec77114d434385351ad1637fd5ab42dc6a76b94b0e90f1c6e683c71535f6e6a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1701" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A pre-monsoon déjà vu"> <figcaption>The Sagarmatha Sambaad climate conference in Kathmandu this week. Photo: PRADEEP RAJ ONTA / RSSseasonmedia2007</figcaption> </figure>  I visited the communities ravaged by floods in September and as I wrote in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a> then, top-down responses are always too little, too late and too ineffective. The only real solution is bottom-up, community-led adaptation. Those who lived through the floods know what needs to be done, and those privileged and in power need to enable them. Community-led adaptation is not just a buzzword. It is our only viable path forward. It means empowering local people with the tools, knowledge, and resources to protect themselves. It means investing in early warning systems that reach the last mile and actually work, restoring ecosystems that buffer floods, and supporting indigenous knowledge that has long helped communities live in harmony with nature. It means letting go of our belief that somehow our degrees in climate change and attendance in global climate conferences enable us to tell communities how they should be responding to climate change. It means shifting power and funding to the grassroots, where resilience is not theoretical — it is lived, practiced, and urgently needed. As the rains return, I am reminded of Janmu Sherpa’s voice of quiet wisdom. Her innate resilience did not save her life. Let us not wait for the next flood to act. Let us protect what we still have. Rastra Raj Bhandari is co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya.

Comment

A pre-monsoon déjà vu

The recent removal of Kulman Ghising a few months before his tenure heading the National Electricity Authority (NEA) ended made headlines. Hitendra Dev Shakya, whose previous tenure ended amid similar behind-the-scenes politics that <a href="https://en.setopati.com/political/157021">never saw a final court verdict</a>, was put back in charge.&nbsp;
For many, Ghising was the architect of the end of 18-hour-a-day power cuts till a decade ago. His abrupt removal sparked outrage across the public sphere, and the political spectrum.
Leadership at the NEA has never been just about performance, it has long been entangled in political proximity, not merit. The agency is more than a power utility, it is more about control of budgets, contracts, and narratives.
As long as the lights stay on, many Nepalis will willingly overlook the messy compromises that greases the system. Appointments, removals, court cases, and backroom political bargain are the norm. Sometimes like with Ghising, a figure emerges as a public hero, sometimes, they do not.
A decade after routine load-shedding ended, political leaders still scramble to claim credit, over what should fundamentally be just the day-to-day work. The sector is mired in controversies, from metering disputes to ad hoc political committees, tariff issues, to negotiating cross border power trade.&nbsp;
Even basic statistics like electrification rates are held hostage to executive narratives with no clear standards and compliance on what counts as real access. Nepal's power sector seems to be running without a referee.
There are three agencies involved: the <a href="https://moewri.gov.np/">Ministry of Energy</a>, the NEA, and the little-known <a href="https://erc.gov.np/">Electricity Regulatory Commission (ERC),</a> each with a distinct mandate, at least on paper.
In a well-regulated market, issues like metering disputes and executive appointments would barely register outside the industry. In Nepal, such decisions often spill into political crises and can shake the fate of governments. Yet, the ERC is rarely seen or heard, even when these issues strike at the heart of its regulatory mandate.
Blurred roles have left Nepal’s power sector in a state of chronic overlap. The ministry often interferes with operations, drawn by the quiet influence that comes with the turf: contracts, budgets, and visibility.&nbsp;
NEA straddles the line between implementer and influencer, while the regulator still seems hesitant to assert its space.
Created in 2019 after years of industry bargaining, the regulator’s job is to establish rules, resolve disputes, and bring predictability and fairness back to the system. And this critical role remains a blind spot in Nepal’s energy debate and power struggles.
Disputes that should fall under regulatory inquiry and consultation, from the Time-of-Day (ToD) meter disputes and industrial payment defaults, to the NEA’s role in cross border power trade negotiations have instead become political flashpoints.
Despite the politics, if a regulator cannot assert itself in matters squarely within its mandate like pricing, contracts, disputes, compliance, what exactly is it regulating?&nbsp;
We did not create this new regulator just to be another spectator. But that, for now, is all it seems determined to be.
The regulatory mess runs deeper into the way Nepal prices its electricity. By many measures, Nepal’s electricity sector has made real progress. The country now exports surplus power to India while still relying on imports during peak demand. In 2023/24, Nepal became a net electricity exporter for the first time, selling as much power as &nbsp;two and half months of domestic demand.&nbsp;
Every hydropower <a href="https://nea.org.np/admin/assets/uploads/PPA_Rates.pdf">project under 100 megawatts is paid the same flat rate</a>: Rs8.40 per kilowatt-hour in the dry season, Rs4.80 in the wet season. Hard or easy, near or remote, the price stays flat.&nbsp;
Whether a project is built right along the accessible roads of Trisuli corridor or in the remote gorges of the Karnali that demand new roads and transmission lines to &nbsp;generation sites, it is the same price.
The Chamelia Hydropower Project cost <a href="https://www.adb.org/sites/default/files/project-documents/41025-012-nep-tacr.pdf">NPR 56 crore per megawatt to build</a>. Chilime came in at about Rs140 million. In a functioning system, a regulator would benchmark these costs, scrutinise financial models, and adjust tariffs to reflect real-world differences. &nbsp;&nbsp;
To give the ERC some benefit of doubt: it is a young institution<s>.</s> But institutions do not mature by aging; they need to step up and take positions, enforce rules, intervene, and speak up when it’s easier to stay silent, whether the pressure comes from a utility boss or a political heavyweight, celebrity or not.&nbsp;
Nepal’s energy industry cannot afford a regulator that hides every time the stakes get high. That responsibility weighs even heavier today. Ram Prasad Dhital, the current Chair of the ERC, was not an outsider parachuted into the role. He served as one of the Commission’s founding cohort and has seen it through its formative years.&nbsp;
His second term cannot be for keeping the seat warm. But will the ERC act, or will it continue to choose the safer path of silence? As the ERC evolves, the challenge is not just about leadership. It must resist the prevailing tendency to solely rely on short-term contracts and familiar recycled bureaucratic networks.&nbsp;
Building a credible regulatory institution requires stability and technical depth, a professional core of energy experts, economists, engineers, financial analysts, and legal specialists who can audit costs, arbitrate disputes, and navigate the rapidly evolving regulatory terrains.&nbsp;
Tariffs must reflect real costs and real geographies. Export pricing must adapt to dynamic domestic and regional markets. Disputes must be settled through credible regulatory mechanisms rather than through endless political committees.
The real question now is not just what the ERC was created to do, but whether it has the will, the knowledge, and the courage to do it. &nbsp;And the longer it forgets that and drifts further to become another spectator, the deeper the price the industry will pay.
Bibek Raj Kandel works at the intersection of energy, climate, and political economy.&nbsp;

Nepal’s Power Struggles

At the start of May, Bunu Dhungana brought some things in the belly home to Nepal. When she had curated the first iteration of the show in 2023, in Delhi, she had hoped she would be able to bring it home, and she did. The exhibition opened to the public in Kathmandu at Nepal Art Council on 2 May and closes on 16 May. The exhibition brings together works by Asmita Badi, Irina Giri, Shradha Devkota, Tripty Tamang Pakhrin, Shristi Shrestha, Ujjwala Maharjan, and the curator, Bunu Dhungana herself. And there’s an installation of yours truly. In the step up to the show, Bunu organised calls for the artists. Tripty joined at odd hours from her newfound home in Syracuse. As did Shradha from her home in London. Ujjwala joined, from her many different trips to India and other places in Nepal.&nbsp; The rest of us joined from wherever we were in Nepal during call hours, probing the unknown, most of us unsure what we wanted to present to the public. The only thing we had clarity on was the theme Bunu had suggested: mother-daughter relationship. And we were to exchange letters with our mothers. Some of us wrote letters to our mothers from the comfort of our homes, some from Pokhara, or whichever town we were in at the time of writing-- sending it by snail mail, which thankfully, hasn’t gone obsolete yet! Our mothers responded to us from their comfort nooks, each one, taking it up seriously like little girls responding to school assignments. Standing before the wall that has the mothers’ letters at the exhibition, one is easily struck by the basicness of the stationery used by the mothers to write to their daughters. They use pages torn out from a notebook, loose examination sheets or even an abandoned diary. So simple and so straightforward. And in that, powerful. Like the truth of the uterus that is all mothers. In the letters, their emotions take center-stage, as maternal emotions do, coming from a place of wanting the best for their daughters-- to protect them, and to keep them happy and healthy. Daughters’ desires are not too different from that of the mothers. But they come in more complex forms and through different mediums. They write an entire journal on these feelings, write pages and pages, enough to fill a room, weave poems and songs from the rhythm that connects the phantom umbilical cord to the mother. Daughters compose images-- some of oil and smoke, some of suffocation, of stillness, of water and ice and of open spaces and of moments of strife, like something heavy being dragged up a stairway by a lone woman.&nbsp; “While not all the works were made exclusively for the show, I did create new pieces - paper made from a letter I wrote to my mothers, and a series of linoleum cut prints. These processes made me reflect more deeply on the role of repetitive, physical labor in my practice and how it relates to the everyday labor of my mothers,” says Tripty, who documents work dedicated to her two mothers. And there are bright hues in gouache, where mothers and daughters are arrested in moments of fun and chit-chat or even just being at the table watching Tiktok. There’s abandoned sound in a dark, spotlit corner, which takes the listener through a journey of contemplation and upheavals. And there are stories from the kitchen, the base for most mothers in the world. For many of us, it is sometimes impossible to separate the fragrance of spices from our mothers or to tell the spices apart from the scent of our mothers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250514140528_1dd1b5f95e6230f49afb3b084b88542b3fbcc6a454548a3eee60ee85724f7215.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250514140528_1dd1b5f95e6230f49afb3b084b88542b3fbcc6a454548a3eee60ee85724f7215" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="some things in the belly"> </figure>  some things in the belly is an intimate exhibition, and as the show got underway, visitors were seen returning as if to collect something they had left behind. Many kept coming back to read and to write. And that was precisely what Bunu had wanted to create-- a safe space. Visitors sat down, read, wrote letters to their mothers, listened, watched, laughed and wept. Ujjwala says: “The [letter-posting] wall, how it’s growing and how people are reading and writing, that’s the most interesting thing for me. You don’t know how people connect and what hits who. But I’ve seen people tearing up at the letter-writing section. You forget that it does reach the people it needs to reach.” Bunu’s aim when she was taking on the challenge of curating the exhibition was to also create a circle of sisterhood, by bringing together women to work together on a theme. And in the process, she has also managed to help the artists involved create and learn from one another and to be deeply touched by the familiarity of sentiments. “Each piece is so different and that is the beauty of this exhibition that has come together. Tripty’s and Shradha’s work, the experimentation was very inspiring for me and the process itself...what has come out is powerful,” explains Ujjwala.&nbsp; She adds: “They are visual artists but the poetry in it is so beautiful. Shristi’s work, I fell in love with. The care of it. Ashmita’s work, too. To textual people, the importance of a desk and sitting down, the tactileness of books that inspire us. What would mom write? What would their lives be like...the imagination is dreaming along with our moms-- the amalgamation of dreams.” In one of her journal notes to her mother, Ujjwala mentions she can’t remember how long it has been since she gazed carefully into her mother’s face. One pauses to read that sentence again. How long since we did that? At the heart of the stories in the exhibition is also intergenerational trauma and mother-daughter conflict-- how mothers and daughters tug in different directions, even when they’re chasing the same love.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250514140528_d150acebaa02da545dd3c92db7c1202aef73e60d600537106ec0db40dc84cbfc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250514140528_d150acebaa02da545dd3c92db7c1202aef73e60d600537106ec0db40dc84cbfc" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="some things in the belly"> </figure>  When Hishila Yami and her daughter Manushi visited the exhibition with little Yugeen in tow, we caught up on this topic briefly. Manushi said: “We hold so much in our hearts and who do we tell it all to? So we end up dumping it on our mothers. Because who else is there for us as mothers are? “We have such complex relationships of love with our mothers,” Bunu said.&nbsp; All loves have their own equations. The love daughters feel for their mothers is raw and tender and full of familiarity. Everything daughters want for their mother is the same they would want for their daughter, so in that, we serve an endless knot.&nbsp; Then there’s the question of language. What language really serves as a bridge in the gap that exists in mother-daughter relationships? How do we make up in language for the absence of words that can ever convey the sentiments? And so the process of creating some things in the belly has been something like reforging mother-daughter relationships in the crucible. “Each one of us has shaped our practices, and stepped more fully into ourselves. Watching that unfold has been such a privilege,” says Shradha. “I hope, as a collective, this exhibition has offered something real for people to hold onto, reflect upon, or carry with them.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/our-mothers-silences">Our mothers' silences</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar some things in the belly Till 16 May Nepal Art Council, Baber Mahal

Pratibha Tuladhar

Suburban Tales

Dear Maa,

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

Turkish Airlines has been presented with the Sustainable Financing Pioneer Award by Ishka, recognising its landmark transaction that, for the first time, integrated a sustainability-linked loan structure into a multi-currency JOLCO financing model for the acquisition of two next-generation, fuel-efficient Airbus A321neo aircraft. This innovative transaction, arranged by Societe Generale, links the financing terms to Turkish Airlines’ Sustainability Performance Targets (SPTs), particularly the goal of reducing carbon intensity across its fleet.
&nbsp;&nbsp;“We believe this structure not only supports our fleet renewal and growth objectives, but also reinforces our long-term commitment to becoming a carbon-neutral airline by 2050,” said Chief Financial Officer Murat Şeker.

Turkish finance

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;

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