‘Mainly fine throughout the kingdom’

Next Friday, the Nepali Times will be publishing its millennial issue. It is getting on for 20 years since this august weekly first hit the newsstands, providing those of us who cannot read the Nepali language with insights into the news and media, and rescuing us from the bland reporting in The Rising Nepal.

When I first arrived in Kathmandu the government daily, with its carefully filtered news, was the only English newspaper in circulation, the Royals and their exemplary activities reliably featuring in every headline. The depth of analysis could be summarised by the unwavering daily weather forecast: ‘Mainly fine throughout the kingdom.’

Taking a lead from my boss Jim Edwards, the ruling Royals were never mentioned in those days except in terms of utmost respect and reverence. Political access was achieved by Jim’s strategic hobnobbing with court advisors and military aides, often over surreptitious cups of tea at dawn, or covert early morning walks through the paddy fields of Sanepa, avoiding the cow pats and stray dogs sleeping off a noisy night on the prowl.

Today’s range of English-language dailies leaves us foreign guests better informed and spoiled for choice, although we are aware that to understand really what is going on the local broadsheets, news sites, blog spots and web pages tell a very different story. And for those of us still in the dark, the Nepali Times provides an invaluable weekly summary, entertaining evaluation and informed opinion.

Kunda Dixit had come onto my radar long before he embarked on launching the Nepali Times as its creator, editor and publisher. Whilst an energetic young reporter with a passion for ecology, I had asked him to write the chapter on environmental issues in the Nepal Insight Guide of which, by a series of random coincidences, I was the producer. He came highly recommended by the acerbic Elizabeth Hawley, Reuters correspondent in Kathmandu, with whom he had interned as a budding writer. With her rigorous reporting and uncompromising journalistic standards, this was high praise indeed.

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The illustrated format of the Apa Insight Guides was invented in the 1970s by Hans Hoefer, a charismatic itinerant photographer and publisher based in Singapore and originally from southern Germany. In our world of Trip Advisor and Lonely Planet, it is hard to appreciate how revolutionary was this cheerful travel guide design, taking over from the dry and photo-less presentation of Baedekers. Before he sold the Apa series, Hans Hoefer had created dozens of Insight Guide books throughout Asia but the very first were Bali and Nepal, his two favourite hang outs.

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Tousle-haired and draped in cameras, I had been beguiled by Hans when we met early in 1974 at a Hindu Thaipusam festival in the Batu Caves, a colourful melee of millions of devotees in the back blocks of Malaysia. A new arrival in Asia, I was susceptible to his enthusiastic energy and ability to translate his passions into successful business.

I was on my way to Nepal and once settled in Kathmandu, I helped with other South Asian titles, contracting expert writers and identifying promising photographers. It was a collaboration that lasted for years and covered books on Sagarmatha, Indian wildlife, hikes and bike routes in Nepal, as well as comprehensive guides to Bhutan, India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka.

Meanwhile in Kathmandu, the Nepali Times was changing the landscape of informed media. Kunda’s patrician profile and startling white head of hair is a familiar sight at newsworthy events and press gatherings around town.

His fearless approach and relentless satire sometimes got him into trouble, but the paper could always be relied on for an articulate opinion and a balanced view, highlighting issues where others feared to tread.

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Kunda’s gravitas was also in demand at book launches and current affairs debates. He was an unforgiving facilitator of a panel discussion that launched General Rookmangud Katawal’s autobiography, probing the finer political points amidst Kathmandu’s literati.

Five days prior to the 2015 earthquake, Kunda was with us on a sunny afternoon in the Dwarika’s Hotel courtyard to launch the bulky two volumes of Elizabeth Hawley’s chronicles that portrayed the evolving political and social scene in Nepal through some turbulent times from 1988 to 2007.

With Kunda’s assistance on finer linguistic niceties, Mikel Dunham and I had edited her monthly journal, which faithfully recorded the recent history of Nepal in a fresh light with her relentless accuracy, and without the benefit of hindsight. It had been a laborious task sorting through her extensive dusty ring binders and ancient computer files, with many diary entries having to be transcribed by hand or digitised from obsolete soft wear. Dr Bhekh Bahadur Thapa wrote the foreword, and the Nepali Times gave the book extensive coverage.

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It was several years later that Kunda collared me on a chilly winter evening at an ambassadorial reception. Both being dog lovers, we chatted innocuously about our labradors and my boxer before he sprang it on me. Would I like to contribute a fortnightly column about tourism and conservation? I had been asked before, but Kunda must have caught me at a weak moment, because this time I took a deep breath and agreed.

So, in this issue #999, I thank the Nepali Times’ team for the opportunity, and for every Friday interpreting the news for us non-Nepali-literate residents. And to say that we look forward to the next 1,000 editions.