Duthik: Stories from Dolpo at The Kala Salon is Chering Gyaoo Gurung’s ode to his homeland of Dolpo using its native textiles and jewelry. It is also an urgent call to preserve the region’s culture, eroded by encroaching modernity, migration, and a changing climate. ‘I have always loved the textiles of my home, and these, along with the lapis, coral and other minerals used in our jewelry, have inspired my art,’ writes Gurung in his artist’s statement. The famous Dolpo blankets, weighty, richly coloured with linear patterns, hang alongside his paintings in the Salon, on the top floor of the Chhaya Center in Thamel. One of the blankets is his grandmother’s. “It almost still smells smoky, since we only use firewood,” says the soft-spoken 25-year-old. Dolpo in the trans-Himalaya is to the north of the Dhaulagiri range. Most people, incluyding the artist’s family are pastoralists, herding 100 yaks, goats and sheep. Many families also collect yarsagumba, and at one point that would make enough money to last the year, but not anymore. “From Dolpo, it is pretty unheard of to pursue art,” says Gurung, who is not traditionally trained in thangka like other Himalayan artists like Tsherin Sherpa or Dorjee Karmarong. But his passion for art showed early, when he came to Kathmandu at five to study.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250723080712_be467c0e9b9f2fd01148efb464a1c785b8c9ba66f09dd8308c311859a3682a9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250723080712_be467c0e9b9f2fd01148efb464a1c785b8c9ba66f09dd8308c311859a3682a9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="667" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The fabric of society"> </figure>  “In Dolpo, we used to go to school for six months and work with our parents for six months. An aunt suggested that I might as well get some tuition during this time off. Once I came to Kathmandu, we found French sponsors and I stayed here to study,” recounts Gurung. Gurung lived in a hostel and studied under that sponsorship until grade ten. He got support from home for further studies until a bachelor’s in art, which he only finished two years ago. In the meantime, for him, art was a hobby he was good at, he would often win at competitions that this school took him to. Following graduation, many of Gurung’s peers did a lot of commission work and got burned out, while he received residencies, allowing him to stick to his own process and ideas, subsequently developing a style and a voice of his own. Gurung was the first of his family to move to Kathmandu like he did, and while that has led to a blossoming art career, he is wistful about the life he left behind. “The people I left behind lived sort of a perfect life in the village,” he says, even as it is clear herding yaks would not have been enough for his independent spirit. And migration is a big theme in his work, six of the paintings at the exhibition are named as much. Two of them show a mother walking with a baby on her back, and one depicts a snow leopard on the move with its cub.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250723080720_a916959c5a945e9d8c147219a094a548d9a08c8eb93d554a5e62105551a86592.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250723080720_a916959c5a945e9d8c147219a094a548d9a08c8eb93d554a5e62105551a86592" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="The fabric of society"> </figure>  “People migrate in generations, and because of this, they lose culture,” notes Gurung. Three others under the theme are spirals of clothes and masks, seemingly saying that migration causes deep changes in, and confusions about, one’s identity. The fabric of Dolpo and the outfits are prominently featured in almost every painting. “The women, in particular, are complete in how they dress up,” says Gurung. His women wear bhakkus and belts, and blankets and a complete set of necklaces and jewelry. An important detail is the vajra, traditionally a powerful Buddhist and Hindu mythical object and weapon, that the women use as a clip to hold the hems of their shawl together. “Note how the colours of the fabric are dull,” points out Gurung, explaining that these cloths are dyed naturally with ‘stone’ colours but fade quickly in the sun and the dust storms of Dolpo. To Gurung, the fabrics signify the Dolpo culture that he is so fond of, but disappearing. He laments that people would rather buy similar but cheaper blankets from Kathmandu or Tibet, and are abandoning traditional occupations, instead running hotels. “His feeling for Dolpo really shines through, and makes the paintings feel very warm,” says curator Sophia Pande. “I think the exhibition shows the unique style Chering has developed, and his range.” Another Dolpo detail that features heavily is bhoj patra, or birch bark paper which is used to write on as well as roofing material, given that it is waterproof. The sap of the birch tree is so sweet that it is also tapped and boiled for sugar. “People also carry it on yarchagumba trips, to use as light plates or cups. They can be washed and reused too,” adds Gurung.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250723080716_84ceef8066260cbe271158790e77bfc867dbab9cbaf23d13dc39202ef2a949f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250723080716_84ceef8066260cbe271158790e77bfc867dbab9cbaf23d13dc39202ef2a949f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="667" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The fabric of society"> </figure>  Like the Dolpo blankets, reams of this bhoj patra and a bowlful of yarcha are also displayed and give a nuanced understanding of the Dolpo way of life. Gurung also has a series of paintings on the bark paper, the first of which is a sky blue ‘DHARMA MASK’ or ‘MUKUT’. &nbsp;“I mixed acrylic paint with glue and diluted it to use like watercolour on the bhoj patra, and I was very happy with how it turned out,” he explains of the piece. Gurung works out of White Yak studio in Lalitpur, a name he chose for the rare and revered version of the animal. “I plan to carry on with this subject matter as I haven’t exhausted all my ideas,” he says, “and I can still get better with my colouring.” Duthik: Stories from Dolpo By Chering Gyaoo Gurung The Kala Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11am-8pm Until 1 August

Vishad Raj Onta

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Review

The fabric of society

Georgia O’Keefe, a foundational modernist painter most known for her floral and landscape paintings once said: “One can’t paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt.” O'Keefe's residency in the city occurred during its extreme architectural expansion. Her lesser known body of work is entitled ‘My New Yorks’ and the series of paintings are a bird's eye perspective of New York City. The ongoing exhibition ‘Under the Same Roof’ at Siddhartha Art Gallery by Subodh Bhandari and Sambridhi Ratna Shakya resembles O’Keefe’s ‘love letters to New York’.&nbsp; Bhandari, a Patan newcomer and Shakya, a Patan native, work together to honour their architectural surroundings using mixed media. ‘A Walk Through the City’ is a conglomeration of miniature window replicas.&nbsp; The duo took snapshots of rapidly changing communities, and both styles are similar in their directness. The two artists reconstruct observations through stylistic fabrication, and capture the sensation of traversing a street, suddenly making ordinary objects artistic.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025072210078_3297b124286d188c641120c0742ced23ea15d75906d4454135f758dde501b0fe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025072210078_3297b124286d188c641120c0742ced23ea15d75906d4454135f758dde501b0fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="2150" height="1438" loading="lazy" alt="From the outside looking in"> </figure>  ‘Under the Same Roof’ centres around Patan’s doors, powerlines, and most notably windows. The two artists roam alleyways looking for features that pique their interest, committing them to memory with photography.&nbsp; Bhandari and Shakya do not allow the objects to go unnoticed, forever examining details which others frequently overlook. For the artists, rendering everyday entities creates unification through relatability. Their overall message focuses on coexistence and interconnectedness. Specifically how easily accessible, recurring items, visible to all, establish familiarity and speak volumes via silence.&nbsp; The artists inject bits of lived experiences into their reproductions, concealing personal artefacts such as bed sheets or posters within windows. They place humanity upon inanimate objects, allowing for exploration of a unified history.&nbsp; Each window represents a personal memory rather than something imagined, as they are constructed from photographs the artists themselves took. Walking into the gallery feels as if you are entering a collective memory. The approximately 500 wooden windows, with photo transfer and acrylic details, engulf the first floor.&nbsp; The incredible amount of small windows establish an immersive experience, prompting the viewer to question, whose homes are attached, what type of people have lived there and for how long? The diversity of each piece astounds the eye. With so much repetition, how can the individual elements be entirely unique?&nbsp; Windows are a common occurrence, present in any building. Viewing this commonality clustered together reveals the personal rather than architectural elements which make them individualistic.&nbsp; Their quaint Patan studio is on the second floor of a residential building with a blindingly mint green room, slightly dusty from the drills and grinders used for constructing and polishing sculptures.&nbsp; Bhandari says he has always yearned for an artistic lifestyle, whereas Shakya picked up a knack for it after a classroom quarrel regarding his artistic abilities at Kathmandu University where both had the same motivation to capture their surroundings.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250722100712_b1d54221ed9e3806a48a98943e9fd4c80c535957144ce6d94b20e788f4a9a4b7.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250722100712_b1d54221ed9e3806a48a98943e9fd4c80c535957144ce6d94b20e788f4a9a4b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1078" height="1430" loading="lazy" alt="From the outside looking in"> </figure>  The two differ in being native and new to the Patan area. So, is this exhibition about new vs native? Bhandari replied: “The idea of new vs native is no more about new vs native, it’s more about new and native, both the things coexisting together.” This is a metaphorical representation of their windows: what can you know about someone from outside appearances? Each window represents a specific period in time, whether it was constructed yesterday or 20 years ago, whether it houses a young family or one which has lived there for generations. The message is to understand how these elements help us coexist, by placing these varying periods of life centimetres apart from each other. It creates a space in which being surrounded by others is inevitable regardless of differences.&nbsp; Star Ross is an undergraduate at Princeton University studying Medical Anthropology alongside Visual Arts and Climate Science.

From the outside looking in

Seldom do we see the smaller things, read between the lines, and realise that the little, fleeting moments are what shape our realities. As we trace the light &amp; dust, Haru Art Collective’s first group exhibition at Dalai-la Art Space revisits the value of these moments. Through the works of ten artists, the exhibition <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">details our everyday</a>, ordinary lives, making viewers relate, reflect, and bask in nostalgia. One such piece is Moulik Limbu’s यादहरु सपना जस्तो लाग्छ, a dreamy blue landscape rendered in watercolor and gouache where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/where-wild-things-are">birds and animals</a> emerge subtly through still, royal-azure leaves. As children, Limbu would stay up late with his brother, imagining fantastical creatures from the shadows outside their window, but at dawn, they would discover they were just leaves. Those quiet nights formed lasting memories that continue to tug at Limbu’s heart which he now preserves in his art. Nischal Gurung’s Familiar Echoes captures the soft emotions of togetherness. Whether it is a person or familiar <a href="about:blank">household objects</a> we often overlook, they stay with us. In काक्रा र करेन्ट, the warmth of huddling together for a meal is carefully portrayed, highlighting how closeness often unfolds in the most mundane of moments.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250721130756_b567c9b5559a81bec03ba5417b6967c1f5849b7ddf7f33b4282e8e9479d40b82.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250721130756_b567c9b5559a81bec03ba5417b6967c1f5849b7ddf7f33b4282e8e9479d40b82" data-rendition-name="original" width="776" height="476" loading="lazy" alt="An ode to the ordinary"> <figcaption>Familiar Echoes by Nischal Gurung</figcaption> </figure>  In another piece, Anil Nepali’s work explores the haziness of distant memories. What seems like a normal painting from afar becomes increasingly blurred up close, much like how traffic lights lose clarity when seen through misty eyes. This visual metaphor mirrors Nepali’s own experience of fading recollections from home which he reconstructs through pixelated squares and muted monochrome tones. The result is a powerful reflection on the fragile, fading <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/etched-in-our-memory">nature of memory</a>. Viewers will see the attempt to reconnect with ancestral roots and traditional practices. The Arrival of Bun-Dyo by Kabir Kayastha, depicts the rain god Bunga Dyo during the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain">Rato Maytsendranath Jatra</a>. Meanwhile, Shrayam Shakya explores his lineage's deep connection with land and water in his piece, From the Ground. “The oral traditions and stories of my ancestors become the remnants of the land and the knowledge that existed,” he tells us. At the centre of his exploration is the Yaksha – a nature spirit that embodies land and governs the essence of water. For Shakya, the Yaksha is not just a mythological being but also a symbol of ancestry.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250721130728_4c1c4fb646df20bb7f72bc77dc2e71383468e0dc0a187c69e84a82f67ab49288.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250721130728_4c1c4fb646df20bb7f72bc77dc2e71383468e0dc0a187c69e84a82f67ab49288" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="An ode to the ordinary"> <figcaption>From the Ground by Shrayam Shakya</figcaption> </figure>  Terracotta, the material he uses, reinforces this rootedness. “It is used in the architecture of hitis and is connected to the land, so it carries the essence of the theme.” As <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/morals-in-murals">oral histories</a> and traditions continue to fade, Shakya believes art becomes a vital archive. Jyotsna Udas explores themes of femininity in her work. She says, “In my work, I embroider objects <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/of-women-for-women-by-women">tied to femininity</a> – those that adorn, restrain, and define.” Using delicate strands of her own and her family’s hair, she weaves silent but powerful stories of inherited expectations, unspoken rules, and the confined spaces women are told to occupy -- a quiet testament to the strength and complexity of feminine energy. “I cut my hair short every once in a while. It makes me feel free, free from all the burdens, but I get scolded by people at home when I do, or when I dye it,” she tells us. “Long hair is still seen as the beauty standard. Hair colour is taboo. People stare. Women become self-conscious. And when people can judge just based on something as personal as hair, it makes me wonder – how much more do we have to hear in life?”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250721130736_05107d9661e5d210a6c522ed2909b1a93c6dc3f6eb46bb425737e9ce15163e79.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250721130736_05107d9661e5d210a6c522ed2909b1a93c6dc3f6eb46bb425737e9ce15163e79" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="An ode to the ordinary"> <figcaption>Not Just Hair by Jyotsna Udas</figcaption> </figure>  Sadishree Thapa’s A Room that Waits explores the subtle yet profound difference in a house that comes with the presence and absence of a person. When the person is there, it feels like home, otherwise, it is hollow. ‘A room waits, for the warmth of a presence, for the sound that you said were home,’ reads the artist's profound accompanying note. Places Where Dust Settles by Preeti Duwal captures the quiet beauty of everyday household objects, how they gather dust and the silent stories. Rojan Ghimire explores offerings and the subtle traces of life and birth, while Raunak Karanjit’s cyanotype work reflects on memory, identity, and the fading presence of a once-familiar marigold. The artists weave together objects, places, life, and memory, into layered <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-reading-compass">stories</a> shaped by our daily rhythms and reflections, and transform the familiar into the extraordinary. As we trace the light &amp; dust Till July 30 11am-7pm Dalai-la Art Space, Thamel

An ode to the ordinary

‘Devi’ does not just stand for different <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/giving-a-face-to-a-deity?fbclid=IwY2xjawFtoG5leHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHXa4139HVkEZUtSxGZJRZxF_-mhuZWHUa9VznwFsj2uv1OuaHIj5GwkpBw_aem_6t_qShHd7HRRw3KjhHPRqg">goddesses </a>who embody creation, destruction, and the cycles of life. It is symbolic of feminine energy in both spiritual and human forms.&nbsp; The goddesses mirror cultural and social ideals of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/of-women-for-women-by-women">womanhood</a>, celebrating the essence of feminine power and strength. The many forms of Devi transcend religion, borders, realities, and personal awakenings. Devi is form yet formlessness, elemental and elusive, mystical and mundane, beautiful yet brutal. This multifaceted nature of female deities finds quiet expression in the stillness of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tsherin-sherpa-returns-home-to-takpa">Takpa Gallery</a>, through the collaborative work of Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow and Tara Di Gesu. Crow is from Colorado, and has been living and learning art in India, Nepal and Canada. Di Gesu learnt classical thangka painting in Nepal, adding a new delicate quality to the sacred artform.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250710140736_73f64aad171ea203e9f795329001ad7ef76e84442f891252af3120fe143a869d.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250710140736_73f64aad171ea203e9f795329001ad7ef76e84442f891252af3120fe143a869d" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="1304" loading="lazy" alt="The divine Devi"> <figcaption>Lotus Tara by Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow</figcaption> </figure>  Crow’s artwork of layered lotuses forming the image of Lotus Tara is a contemporary interpretation of the revered goddess, rendered in mixed media photo collage. Through soft blue and pink pastels, Lotus Tara radiates tranquility. In contrast, Marigold Tara emerges from a deep, dark backdrop, with her form shaped by fiery orange marigolds. In Red Tara Realm, digital collage and paint meld to create a hypnotic, multi-dimensional effect where the many forms of the deity in red overlap and intertwine within a single frame. A simpler, original version of Red Tara sits nearby, counterbalancing the dynamic fusion.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250710140736_0a787dda0626eaed1399b24dc9bb3af2e297a71f109cb60997bc234acc6fa422.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250710140736_0a787dda0626eaed1399b24dc9bb3af2e297a71f109cb60997bc234acc6fa422" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The divine Devi"> <figcaption>Kalavinka by Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow</figcaption> </figure>  One of her more intriguing works is Kalavinka, painted on handmade Indian paper with mineral pigments featuring a colourful bird’s body paired with a feminine human head. The human head embodies intellect while the bird represents instinct and agility. Offering Devis is another unique display, made with rose petals, gathered from Mandala offerings that Crow collected, dried, pressed, and painted onto delicate Japanese paper. Tara Di Gesu’s artwork evokes bolder and more spiritually intense themes, drawing inspiration from the style commonly found in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/golden-deities">traditional thangka paintings</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250710140736_5836aab649efd7920beebfd2442063d4e43970bdb62c549917fee3c3b48a7975.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250710140736_5836aab649efd7920beebfd2442063d4e43970bdb62c549917fee3c3b48a7975" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="The divine Devi"> <figcaption>Kali by Tara Di Gesu</figcaption> </figure>  Kali and Khrodikali portrays the fierce Hindu goddess using mineral pigment, gold, and watercolour on silk. Adorned with a garland of skulls, Kali is a fearless embodiment of feminine strength, and a potent reminder of the divine life force. The Little White Vulture has softer and delicate tones in which the goddess glows with power, as she soars serenely.&nbsp; The exhibition also invites reflection on caring for nature and the deep interconnectedness of all living beings, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/himalayan-tipping-points">the beauty and the fragility of our planet</a>, with Crow’s use of eco-conscious materials. Her watercolours Earth in Peril and Earth in Harmony depict the stark divide between flood and fire, yet a figure stands strong at the centre, entwined with hopeful touches of greenery and natural elements, while the latter bursts with lush life involving birds, flowers, and leaves in full bloom. Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow and Tara Di Gesu delve into both the intimate and iconic expressions. For both artists, Devi is more than art, it is an act of devotion celebrating the ineffable. Devi Till 26 July Tuesday-Thursday: 11AM-6PM Friday-Sunday: 11AM-7PM Takpa Gallery, Lazimpat&nbsp;

The divine Devi

Bigotry is not innate, it is learned behaviour — that message is front and centre in Akanchha Karki’s short film, Sanai.
The film won best director, best cinematography, best story, best original score, and best picture at Malaysia’s <a href="https://www.facebook.com/NSIFF" target="_blank">Neo South Independent Film Festival</a> as well as awards at the <a href="https://nhriff.hrfilms.org/" target="_blank">Nepal Human Rights International Film Festival</a> and the <a href="https://nafilmsociety.org/" target="_blank">Nepal America International Film Festival</a>.&nbsp;
Sanai is the story of Rupa and Maya, two teenage Dalit and Brahmin girls form an unconditional friendship within a patriarchal, caste-ridden society. The film starts with Rupa’s father heading to Maya’s house to play the sanai, a musical instrument of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalit-lives-must-matter">Dalit community </a>at the wedding of Maya’s uncle.&nbsp;
Dialogue and the behaviour of characters allude to or explicitly exhibit the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/caste-no-bar?fbclid=IwAR2MXB-JEYwQYNMY1mn87VfEikVamdxaZ3nmTe6XC9HvpOhfcnA_QovCnMA">caste divide</a>. Maya longs to play the sanai, but is yelled at by her mother for ‘almost causing a disaster’ when she tries to reach for one of the instruments.
Rupa’s mother mends clothes for Maya’s mother and sends Rupa to deliver it, but Maya’s mother will only touch the clothing after ‘purifying’ it first. &nbsp;
However, the two children, brought together by their shared <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/in-nepal-east-meets-west-musically?mdrv=www.nepalitimes.com">love of music</a>, rebel in their own ways. Rupa throws away the sel roti dropped onto her hand without touching it by Maya’s mother. Maya refuses free candy given to her to persuade her to stay away from Rupa.&nbsp;
At the wedding, Maya defiantly plays the sanai given to her by Rupa during her uncle’s wedding.
After Maya is told by an adult not to hang out with Rupa due to their caste difference, there is radiant joy when the two girls are told by their teacher that Rupa should ask her mother to sew her the same frock as Maya so that they can look alike.
The following scene, where Maya and Rupa exchange their clothes with Rupa wearing Maya’s prettier outfit, is among the most quietly powerful moments in the film.
Queerness is a subtly recurring motif in the sanai, especially notable during a scene where Maya watches her uncle and his bride dance during their wedding ceremony and imagines herself and Rupa, with matching frocks, in their place.&nbsp;
“As kids, all they care about is their friendship and their love, but queerness is also an angle in the film,” says director <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/marriage-drama" target="_blank">Akanchha Karki</a>, of the Kathmandu theatre, <a href="http://kathaghera.com/" target="_blank">Katha Ghera</a>.
The girls’ shared desire to play the sanai binds them together. And while Rupa’s father and his community are expected to breathe music through their sanai in the life and celebrations of upper-caste communities, they are not allowed to be part of those ceremonies.&nbsp;
Karki picked sanai out of all the other instruments played by the Dalit community both because it was convenient for the children to carry and because of its unique sound.&nbsp;
“The sanai produces an achingly beautiful music, which I wanted to bring out for the film,” Karki says.&nbsp;
At the end, a grown-up Rupa and Maya reunite against a backdrop of sanai players. ‘Did you have to wait long?’ asks Maya, as the two hug one another tightly. ‘Only an eternity,’ Rupa replies with a smile.&nbsp;
Only an eternity, not just for the two of them to become adults, but to wait for the walls built by the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/putting-dalits-back-in-business?amp=1"> hierarchy of caste</a>, class and exclusion to begin to crumble.&nbsp;
Says Karki: “It is not only about the physical waiting, but how they had to wait for society to transform.”
Having directed, written, and acted in Nepali theatre herself, Karki found it easy to work with actors. But while theatre is a collaborative effort, working with separate departments in filmmaking was a new experience.
“Everything is not always under your control in filmmaking,” Karki notes. “When I make my next film, I think it is going to be about my own experiences.”

An instrument of liberation

Some seek solitude, some the company of others, still others find a balance between the two. Yet, we all long for someone to go home to and share our smiles and sorrows. Kalina and Diwas find that someone in each other – most often, it must be said, in sorrow. Their story begins in a school sickroom. Kalina lies curled up with stomach pain, and Diwas stumbles in, bruised and breathless from a fall off the school roof. What starts as curiosity about each other’s pain turns into a friendship woven together with shared ache. This opening scene of the play Sickroom on the stage of <a href="http://kathaghera.com//">Katha Ghera</a> is a precursor to how, through the years and separate storms, Kalina and Diwas keep finding their way back to each other. In pain, in comfort, and the quiet knowing that even the wounded can become each other’s solace. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/marriage-drama">Director Akanchha Karki</a>’s Sickroom is an adaptation of Gruesome Playground Injuries by American playwright Rajiv Joseph. The play moves in fragments that shift between childhood and adulthood, echoing the fractured nature of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/memories-of-an-archivist">memories </a>and the scars people carry. After their first encounter in the school sickroom, we meet the two as their older selves. Kalina walks into a hospital room where Diwas lies injured, his eye wounded in a firework accident. Initially, their exchange is hesitant after years of separation. But the distance and time dissolve quickly. Their bond is stitched together by shared physical and emotional wounds. Diwas bears scrapes and scars from reckless acts, and Kalina struggles with mental health and self-harm tendencies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025070212074_23fd056bdd0161d9c2d25369f48c94d03486b7266eff3990c2ec8459c54556b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025070212074_23fd056bdd0161d9c2d25369f48c94d03486b7266eff3990c2ec8459c54556b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1103" height="735" loading="lazy" alt="Story of scars and solace"> </figure>  Their separate sufferings seem to always find a symmetry of quiet understanding and a desire to soothe the other, even when their own self is hurting. The two broken souls find healing not in saving themselves, but each other. The closeness they share carries the weight of love, and their hearts consistently orbit one another regardless of their partners. In one scene, an injured Diwas visits Kalina who is distant and withdrawn. It is soon revealed that she has been sleeping with her boyfriend, not out of desire, but in an attempt to dull the ache inside her. She has found a different outlet now, where her vulnerability is violated. Diwas is against this, and becomes a place of care for Kalina once again. And for him, Kalina’s touch is enough to mend even his deepest wounds. At one point, Diwas tells Kalina, “I am not someone else, I am you.” Noor Khanal and Abishek Khadka, as the younger Kalina and Diwas, bring an unfiltered innocence on stage, their exchanges so raw that it is like eavesdropping on real life in motion. There are flickers of humour, the scenes unfold with tender music. Akanchha Karki and Sudam CK step in as the older persona, delivering bold performances that show how relationships, over time, shift and knot themselves around personal grief. Towards the end, in an extraordinary moment, young and adult versions of Kalina and Diwas speak in tandem, transcending time as a young Kalina speaks to an adult Diwas, and adult Kalina to young Diwas. Our present selves are never far from the children we once were, the pieces of our past selves and past experiences linger within us forever. Sickroom explores Kalina and Diwas’s deep reliance on one another. It also lays bare their inability to fully settle into a conventional relationship because sometimes the aches leave us hollow, in search of no one but ourselves. Sickroom Till 12 July Kausi Theatre, Teku Sun-Fri except Tuesday: 5:15PM Saturday: 5:15PM, 1PM

Story of scars and solace

An amalgam is an alloy of metals, but at Siddhartha Art Gallery it is a collection of 61 Nepali artists showcasing their work together. It is not just established and upcoming artists themselves, the exhibition is also an amalgam of the medium they work with: drawings, acrylics, ceramics capturing the diversity of voices, perspectives, and methods.&nbsp; “We have brought them all together to show their diversity and the span of their expression,” explains Sangeeta Thapa of Siddhartha Art Gallery who curated the exhibition at its inauguration on 8 June. “It has provided a platform to multiple artists to showcase their work and interact with each other.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250623060628_d34d23fab184e398f594d471936ab62ff83b52fd89d93fe2f64fdae73e6c7133.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250623060628_d34d23fab184e398f594d471936ab62ff83b52fd89d93fe2f64fdae73e6c7133" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Amalgamation NT"> </figure>  Spread out over two sections of the gallery, it has works by well-known Nepali artists like Kiran Manandhar, Manish Lal Shrestha, Binod Pradhan, Sabita Dongol to Krisha Tamrakar, Manorama Khatri, Nabin Nalbo and Tenzin Rigdol.&nbsp; Each artwork pushes viewers to develop perspectives of their own. Sabita Dongol’s Flow of Life displays a woman with four hands, with trees, animals, utensils and a comb in the backdrop. Dongol uses combs as the central motif.&nbsp; We asked her why. “It is an expression of innate feminity. It untangles the hair, is a symbol of problem-solving and harmony. The four hands represent the multitasking role women play.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250623060628_c5400aab7539323df91ea7d34e41eaf4869f636dff85de4825efc964e39f6dd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250623060628_c5400aab7539323df91ea7d34e41eaf4869f636dff85de4825efc964e39f6dd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1006" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Amalgamation NT"> </figure>  In Silent Boundaries, Krisha Tamrakar presents four works including a pressure cooker, a plastic bag of onions, a woman’s handbag and a pair of slippers -- all inside threadwork cages. “This series explores the unsettling transformation of accessibility into inaccessibility. What was once dear to us, in relationships or in life, maybe unreachable the next moment. The objects are metaphors, and the threading are the unspoken barriers we impose on each other,” says Tamrakar. Nabin Nalbo’s portraits of famous personalities stand out, it is as if the people will step out of the frames and speak in real time. Nalbo says he has represented inspiring people in his art: “It reflects a sense of belonging to the Nepali identity.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250623060628_4ac5790931f581cfb9ff580faa238f8ced04e318cbb68c32005e9f19483580ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250623060628_4ac5790931f581cfb9ff580faa238f8ced04e318cbb68c32005e9f19483580ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Amalgamation NT"> </figure>  Manish Lal Shrestha’s creation of the ace, queen, king and jack of diamonds also gives a different sense of visual appeal, using coffee granules. Shrestha says he is trying to visualise the current debate about monarchy in Nepal. “Whether the king or commoners, leaders should be open-minded and sharp, just like a diamond. The game of cards is what politics is all about.” Viewers may want to pay multiple visits to Siddhartha Art Gallery to take in all of this vast exhibition. It is best to be inspired in instalments by the artistic talent on display and be moved by them. &nbsp; Sudiksha Tuladhar Amalgam 2025 Sidhhartha Art Gallery Babarmahal Revisted premises Until 8 July 11AM to 5PM &nbsp;

An amalgamation of artists

The Barun trees surrounding Patan’s Agnishala temple are bowed with age — curving over stout brick walls of the temple, its gnarled branches threading through power lines. Rain drips from its glossy green leaves onto the temple courtyard. The trees are said to have existed for as long as the sacred eternal fire has burned in the temple.&nbsp; Botanical illustrator Neera Joshi Pradhan was on a heritage walk through Patan when she saw yellow flowers blanketing the ground, and recalled visiting the temple for puja with her family as a young girl. “I realised that while we look with much awe at Nepal’s temples and architecture, we tend to neglect our natural heritage," Joshi says. “Once that realisation set in, I started sketching them.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_2b0770b0c497ff2dc1277284e5fdbfd9637d697fef2b0e597669eb7fa57bd067.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250622030648_2b0770b0c497ff2dc1277284e5fdbfd9637d697fef2b0e597669eb7fa57bd067" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  In 2021, Joshi had also been invited to the Florence Biennale, and she extended her stay to spend time with family there. Surrounded by the architecture of the city, she was hit by a strong urge to pick up her sketchbook to commit Italy’s historic buildings and vibrant plant life to paper. The results of this interplay of our natural and cultural heritage are currently on exhibit at The Kalā Salon’s From Nepal to Italy: Drawings of Flora &amp; Vernacular Architecture.&nbsp; Joshi’s collection of more than 40 Pen/Ink and Watercolour Drawings are a departure from her signature precise, detailed botanical illustrations. They explore the history, heritage, and indigenous plant life of Kathmandu Valley, but as well as Rome, Florence, and Brixen.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_5941db0a2eabe91022a74284088ef3b698d90e0ced5db9129803e2d4dc14456e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250622030648_5941db0a2eabe91022a74284088ef3b698d90e0ced5db9129803e2d4dc14456e" data-rendition-name="original" width="631" height="854" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  “Neera’s latest collection is a bit different from the botanical illustrations that she is known for, and is a really beautiful project that shows her capabilities as an artist,” says Sophia L Pandé, curator at The Kalā Salon. “Even in her depiction of architecture and heritage, the flora are a constant presence.” Joshi’s artwork include pieces she did during her downtime more than a decade ago, before the thought of painting Nepal’s architecture and flora together had really crossed her mind.&nbsp; One such painting from 2013 includes a view of Swayambhu poking out from its surrounding forest, with blue-green hills in the background and the grey-brown concrete of Kathmandu Valley in the foreground, painted from her perch on Kirtipu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_562df6371592ec90e4a342e23d4024efc96e7e651315fd13fa196acf34ad1868.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250622030648_562df6371592ec90e4a342e23d4024efc96e7e651315fd13fa196acf34ad1868" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  Her more recent works from 2023 include pen/ink watercolours of monkeys playing beneath the shade of a Mayal Tree in Swayambhu, the Barun trees at Agnimath, and Panyu trees with their soft pink blossoms swaying in the breeze. In Italy, Joshi walked along cities sketchbook in hand, admiring the view and stopping at public benches and gardens whenever inspiration struck. Her drawings are serene explorations of everyday life in Italy — people walking through cobblestone alleys or sitting in contemplation in public parks, combined with sweeping landscapes of the country’s architecture.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_1e31fc25bbfc9732a2b36ac06d83f765665d2ac63d557d5df467426e4406095f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250622030648_1e31fc25bbfc9732a2b36ac06d83f765665d2ac63d557d5df467426e4406095f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  In one painting from Italy, titled Balcony, Brixen, the veranda painted in faded brown with its pen and ink detailing of the intricate railings, is reminiscent of Kathmandu Valley’s Newari architecture.&nbsp; “Seeing the balcony took me right back home,” says Joshi. And even when buildings and architecture take up much of the portraits, the plant life is striking. Joshi has captured Supari trees towering over Patan Museum, ivy trailing up the soft yellow façade of a house in Brixen, pink flowers blooming in window boxes along a canal in Venice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_28fcd3c9ac3f928451e3c26355514c6828cdf94263a56c32c110a82c7572bd52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250622030648_28fcd3c9ac3f928451e3c26355514c6828cdf94263a56c32c110a82c7572bd52" data-rendition-name="original" width="637" height="871" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  Joshi’s attention to detail allows viewers to identify some native plants like the Barun tree flowers in Patan and sweet chestnut native to Italy.&nbsp; Joshi is perhaps the only botanical illustrator in Nepal, and &nbsp;her detailed, vibrant drawings &nbsp;balance scientific accuracy with artistic expression to document and preserve Nepal's native plants. Her exhibition is also accompanied by a colouring book with botanical art.&nbsp; “As we increasingly face natural disasters and the effects of the climate crisis, it is even more crucial to recognise our indigenous flora and save them,” says Joshi.&nbsp; She wants the public to be able to access some of this knowledge so that young people are at least able to identify plant life around them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_f974188e16945a659c28702b357c2bc36aff753bc5606f0453417f897a641805.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250622030648_f974188e16945a659c28702b357c2bc36aff753bc5606f0453417f897a641805" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  “This is what I am able to do from my side, but there needs to be institutional and policy-level attention to native plant knowledge and conservation,” Joshi says. Adds Pandé: “We are very happy to have released her book as an accompaniment to the exhibition. I hope this is the beginning of something much larger to document and conserve our native plant life.” &nbsp; From Nepal to Italy: Drawings of Flora &amp; Vernacular Architecture By Neera Joshi Pradhan Curated by Sophia L. Pandé Until 6 July 11AM - 8PM The Kalā Salon, Chhaya Center, Thamel

Shristi Karki

Façades and flowers from Nepal to Italy

Prawin Adhikari’s new novel, Budhani, is a compelling and compassionate act of reinterpretation, reimagining a tale from indigenous folklore that draws its power from age-old fables of good versus evil and wisdom versus wilful ignorance.
In the first part of the book, Budhani, a name taken from the Tharu stories that inspired the author, the eponymous crow is born. We hear her inner, most personal thoughts as she grows from little chick to young, preening crow, learning temperance and tenderness from those around her as she comes of age. All the while, she retains a kernel of fierce independence deep inside amidst the all too familiar norms and expectations of the animal world.&nbsp;
Budhani, the adult crow, continues to cherish the succour that nature provides, revelling in it. As with all adults, she begins to understand the suffering that can arise from the crueler nature of those who ought to care for her wellbeing. The whole story, both the imagining of the animal world, and later Budhani’s place in it, draws inspiration from speculative fiction, encompassing fantasy and science fiction, bringing alive a world that is parallel to ours, but just a little different.&nbsp;
Adhikari has a keen affinity for nature that informs his writing. We are drawn into the world of the crows as surely as we might have been into those of a human. The bond between crow characters is effortlessly defined, and friendships and relationships, between people, and between animals and human, are so nuanced as to bring tears to the eyes.
In the way of speculative fiction, the writer must be cognizant of every nook and cranny of his made up world to convince the reader, as those who love N.K. Jemisin and Ursula K. LeGuin will know. Any hint that the creator might not know every goddess and princeling in the world he is defining, or may not carry every small detail of the nature of the trees, skies and creatures of this realm in his mind, causes cognitive dissonance for the reader - resulting in a failure to convince.&nbsp;
This writer succeeds in his world building, but while the characters are incredibly specific, the natural world of the jungle sometimes drifts into something more generic. Regardless of these occasional generalisms, this part of the book is both captivating and heart-wrenching, setting us up for the second half when Budhani manifests as a girl.&nbsp;
Without giving away major plot points (the two-part structure of the book is clear to anyone who opens the book), the girl Budhani is as vital, clever, and curious as her former bird incarnation. She grows up in a loving micro-family that is further strengthened by the strong Tharu community around her.&nbsp;
She becomes sage through hard knocks, and profound friendships. She learns the law of the jungle, but she is no wide-eyed Mowgli. Instead, she is once again nursed to wisdom by the innate, indigenous knowledge handed down to her by her Tharu elders who live at peace with the land, taking the idyllic but also harsh, agrarian way of life in stride and adapting with graceful acceptance, their ethos never quelled. &nbsp;
This half of the story is anchored by exceptional research on the part of the writer. Every nuance of daily life in the world of Budhani’s village rings true, along with the precious indigenous knowledge that is imparted along the way. When she must leave her beloved village to face the inconstant, arbitrary justice of the king, that court smacks vividly of so many other courts in humanity’s past and present. It is at this archetypal court of the inane, indolent king, led by his supposedly learned, cruel, priest that Budhani finally comes into her own.&nbsp;
Budhani’s journey has a happy ending, but be warned, there is anguish in these pages. Animal lovers and the kind of heart will suffer an aching feeling in the chest while reading. However, as is in the best of such tales, each loss metamorphoses into something else, coming full circle, balanced by karma, leaving the reader wishing that such things were true even in the real world.&nbsp;
As a fable, which always has a lesson, there are too many to list here, but as an allegory, there is one learning of critical importance. Encapsulated in the tale of Budhani is the tale of Nepal and the injustices that have been wrought upon her nature, her indigenous peoples, her female and girl folk, and all those who do not have the ability to speak truth to power like Budhani does. With this teaching, rest assured, this story will transform the reader, young and old.&nbsp;
Budhani is gripping, it is tragic, it is beautiful, and it is wise. The book is sometimes didactic but gentled by the framework of the fable, and uplifted by the unforgettable character who first claws and then walks her way into the reader's heart, her every struggle, small and large, coming alive for us. We cannot help but invest in this marvelously drawn, feisty, undaunted character and all those she loves so fiercely.&nbsp;
Adhikari’s writing has always been inspired by the minutiae of life, whether urban or in the village. He is the rarest of writers in that he writes equally well in English and in Nepali. This affinity for both languages enriches his novels in a way that someone writing in English, but with a lesser grasp of the Nepali language, may not be able to convey.&nbsp;
This particular writer’s portrayal of Tharu folktales, therefore, becomes an invaluable part of the canon of Nepali writers writing in English with its nuanced ear for language, its keen eye for detail and the deep responsibility it bears for translating the stories of one culture for the eyes of others.&nbsp;
Cultural appropriation is very real, but Adhikari’s Budhani transmogrifies without appropriating. Enriched by Lavkant Chaudhary’s thoughtful, playful illustrations, and further authenticated by Indu Tharu’s retelling of Budhani into the Tharu language, this enchanting, tragic, memorable story will carve a place in your heart.&nbsp;
Both English and Tharu editions are published by Safu, an imprint of Quixote’s Cove.
Sophia L. Pandé is a writer, art-historian and filmmaker. She consults on the Cultural and Creative Industries. She is Director of Development at the Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust, and the Founding Director of The Kalā Salon (a non-profit space for the arts).

Of crows, and people

Global temperature increase is nearing 1.5°C since pre-industrial times, pushing the planet close to irreversible climate tipping points. The Himalayan region is warming even faster than the global average. The exhibition At the Tipping Point: Art and Ecology from the Rooftop of the World seeks to bring the climate emergency into focus, showing that it is not a distant threat, but a present reality reshaping the natural world around us. The exhibition at Taragaon Next features work from 12 artists, including Amit Machamasi, Chris Jordan, Himali Singh Soin, Joana Moll, Maksud Ali Mondal, Monica Ursina Jäeger, Robertina Sebjanic, Salil Subedi, Samyukta Bhandari, Saurganga Darshandhari, Ursula Biemann and Utsa Hazarika.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_dcdda5b774c21e7f4d2a7e2182aa37a627ebd18f2733491689589d65d287ad82.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250617150624_dcdda5b774c21e7f4d2a7e2182aa37a627ebd18f2733491689589d65d287ad82" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Amit Machamasi’s Not the Same Anymore, The Irony, and Seeds and Tools</figcaption> </figure>  They highlight the strategic location of Nepal and call for a ‘fundamental rethinking of the ecological imagination- where the local and the global, the visible and the invisible, the scientific and the spiritual converge’ though photographs, paintings, multimedia visuals and sounds. “The world will wake up when you say Everest, it is an important barometer to look at ecology, especially that of Nepal,” says curator Arshiya Lokhandwala from India. “The idea was to look at not only local but global issues as well.”&nbsp; The exhibition began on 5 June with powerful performance art titled Earth Emergence by Salil Subedi who falls from the back of a tractor trailer filled with wet red clay. Amidst sounds of gongs and singing bowls, the audience is taken into a journey of Mother Earth as Subedi approaches what appears to be Mount Meru.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_965e76bb3c322fc8915428ce168e7ef4419e73be744bb7427e8970cd3a2514db.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250617150624_965e76bb3c322fc8915428ce168e7ef4419e73be744bb7427e8970cd3a2514db" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Salil Subedi's Earth Emergence. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption> </figure>  Chris Jordan's Midway: Message from the Gyre and Albatross was eight years in the making and depicts the stark fallout from environmental degradation. His eerie images of dead baby albatrosses covered in plastic waste serve as a powerful critique of globalised consumerism. Samyukta Bhandari’s Echoes of Survival addresses the plight of sparrows amidst urban noise. The exhibits consist of a labyrinth of exposed wiring, ceramic sparrow figurines and mirrors, representing the friction for coexistence between sparrows and humans. The mirrors with the sparrow figures symbolise the sparrows colliding with windows.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_09ba776a03042e47faa97d3ba2cecf7d4adf88b04f02461ff1edd1ba2a488671.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250617150624_09ba776a03042e47faa97d3ba2cecf7d4adf88b04f02461ff1edd1ba2a488671" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Maksud Ali Mondal’s Fungal Habitat presents a self-sustaining ecosystem through the life cycle of a mushroom. As the audience moves through the exhibit, the scent of fungi permeates, underscoring the fact that decay and renewal are a part of life. The Newa traditions of food, harvest, and communal bonds is the highlight of Yomari wo Yomha ji and Grain of Gold by Saurganga Darshandhari. Says the artist, “In Newari tradition, Yomari is made of rice flour, and the grains are grown from the soil. Hence, linkage with the earth is established. These traditions are passed on from one generation to another, and the sweet delicacy is usually made by women, so I tried to create happiness through cooking and linking it to yomari, and the bird, so that she can fly as free as a bird."  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_df04d076e834c362b00ba17aa0b71988a22b941b35ee0ba7ee9ed0f7cda27cb0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250617150624_df04d076e834c362b00ba17aa0b71988a22b941b35ee0ba7ee9ed0f7cda27cb0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption> </figure>  Such communal bonds are very much tied with the land and harvest, but rapid and haphazard urbanisation has had much adverse impact, as Amit Machamasi’s Not the Same Anymore, The Irony, and Seeds and Tools portray. What were once farmlands are now being plundered and plotted to give way to unplanned and disastrous development. “There must be development, roads must be expanded, but not at the cost of nature,” says Machamasi, as he explains one of the other photographs on display: “The small crow was photographed when the tree that it was residing on was cut off for development.” Our misguided approach to development has a dire impact on the overall ecology, from heat stress in the Tarai to the drying of natural springs in the hills to receding glaciers in the mountains.&nbsp; At the Tipping Point: Art and Ecology from the Rooftop of the World Until 31 August 10:00AM to 5:30PM Taragaon Next Hyatt Regency premises

Himalayan tipping points

Many of us former Nepal Peace Corps volunteers (PCVs) would agree that our time in Nepal changed in significant but very different ways our perspectives on life if not the future paths we chose to follow. Of no one was this truer than Dorothy Mierow. Dorothy was born in 1920, in Colorado Springs. Her father Charles C Mierow was a classics scholar and Latin professor, who served for ten years as president of Colorado College.&nbsp; Dorothy developed an interest in animals as a child, graduated with a BA degree in natural history from Carlton College in 1942, a Master’s in biology from the University of Pittsburgh, and another Master’s in geography from the University of Minnesota.&nbsp; As a young woman, Dorothy traveled with her father throughout Europe, including a visit to ancient Greek ruins, and took a Magellan Tour by cruise ship around the world in 1958.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262" data-rendition-name="original" width="903" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>HOME AWAY FROM HOME: Dorothy Mierow as a college student in her native Colorado.</figcaption> </figure>  She was a college teacher during much of the 1940s, also teaching at a girls’ school in Hawaii. Then back to her native Colorado in 1953, where she became a curator and later director of the Colorado College Natural History Museum. She taught geography classes, and in her free time, Dorothy climbed 22 of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. Traveling in India in 1960, Dorothy decided to spend two weeks in Nepal. In late 1961, she filled out an application to join the Peace Corps and specified that she wanted to go to Nepal, ‘because I admired the people so much when my father and I were there on our trip’.&nbsp; Dorothy reached Kathmandu in September 1962 as the first group of American Peace Corps volunteers in Nepal. She stood out from the others: one of the few women in that group, surely the oldest at age 41, a world traveler, and a woman who already had established a professional career.&nbsp; One doubts if Dorothy had had a husband and children whether she would ever have gone to work and spend much of the rest of her life in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515" data-rendition-name="original" width="1259" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="How th Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life NT"> <figcaption>Pokhara Bazar in 1962.</figcaption> </figure>  The Peace Corps assigned Dorothy to teach geography at Tri-Chandra College. After the school closed in the winter due to lack of heating, USAID and the College of Education asked Dorothy to help train general science teachers.&nbsp; She taught for two months and became involved in a textbook-writing project, commenting: ‘I would like the children to know something about public health, conservation (the trees are going fast and so is the soil), and learn the names of some of their common birds, trees, and flowers. They are more impressed with electricity, airplanes, and cell structure.’ When a new college opened in Pokhara in 1963, Dorothy was transferred there and lived with a Nepali family. The college boasted 30 students and no permanent buildings.&nbsp; In October 1963, Dorothy wrote: ‘Pokhara is a town of almost 5,000 people … We are in a fertile valley surrounded by foothills … There is a small Mission Hospital … a Leper Hospital and Tibetan Refugee Camp started by the Red Cross and now run by the Swiss. With winter approaching, more Tibetans are appearing in town, often with pack horses or donkeys. Some have been carrying large boxes of powdered milk,donated (by USAID) to the camp from the airport … There is no electricity, and the transportation problems make many items scarce and expensive. I am really a sort of a museum. The landlord brings all kinds of people in to see how I live and count my shoes and dresses. They express amazement at my books, pictures, tin oven, Nepali dolls from Kathmandu, screened food shelves and curtained closet.’ The standard term for Peace Corps volunteers was two years, but Dorothy extended her term and was still at Prithvi Narayan College at the end of 1965, when she wrote that she had 20 Geography students in the first-year class and 6 in the second year preparing for the IA Examination. The college enrollment was 125 students, and the foundation for a new science building was being excavated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="605" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow and friends at Phewa Lake.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy noted that she ate one meal a day at the (Shining Mission) Hospital but otherwise lived on dal-bhat, momo, and potato curry at local shops. However, she had developed a new passion: to build what she initially called the Pokhara Museum of the Himalaya. In commendable Peace Corps fashion, Dorothy always worked with Nepalis and respected the culture. ‘The greatest joy and satisfaction I have had has been from the building of a Museum-Library in memory of my parents … It has been possible to feel like a wealthy benefactor with the money saved by father for the family’s education and now available for the education of others… (Father) would have loved to be in on the founding of a new college and be able to plan a library. Several hundred of the books to be in the museum-library came from his collection and were carefully selected to be of use for students in Nepal…’&nbsp; ‘The museum part is to satisfy my own inclinations and was thought of when I found how little diversion there was for the people of Pokhara… It is part of the University requirements for the college that it should have a geography and biology museum. The museum building is small but adequate.&nbsp; I have tried to design it in harmony with Nepalese architecture and decorate it with some of the art of the best artists or woodcarvers… Posts holding up the porch roof are carved by Cottage Industries to represent different peoples of Nepal in typical costumes. The door was carved by a local wood carver and has typical birds of Nepal around it. Inside are 10 roof-support carvings designed by the retired Director of the National Museum in Kathmandu, Mr. C.M. Maskey.&nbsp; They were carved by the best wood carvers in Patan very skilfully. The building has three rooms: the library, the exhibition room, and a smaller workroom which can be used by our newly formed Woman’s Club as well as other groups or classes.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8" data-rendition-name="original" width="629" height="599" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow with local women in Pokhara in 1969.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy promoted her project to influential Nepalis connected with organisations whose support she solicited: The Department of Archaeology, the Department of Agriculture, the Godavari Botanical Gardens; Tribhuvan University’s Science and Education Department, Nature Conservation Society.&nbsp; The museum was opened officially in early 1967. The Annapurna Natural History Museum, the building Dorothy designed and had constructed, is still open and features some exhibits which she created many years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>The Annapurna Natural History Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy returned to America in 1967, but she longed for Nepal. In the spring of 1969, she again tried to enroll as a Peace Corps volunteer but was told that as she had spent more than four years, she would not be eligible for another assignment. Undeterred, she persuaded the college in Pokhara to invite her to return as a teacher.&nbsp; UNICEF and the Forestry Department sponsored Dorothy to prepare charts on trees, birds, animals and flowers in colour for distribution to the schools of Nepal. Dorothy, back in the Peace Corps, returned to Pokhara and the Museum in 1972. She formed a friendship with her former geography student from Sikles, Chandra Prasad Gurung, and in 1974, she brought Chandra to America, where he enrolled in Colorado College and studied cultural anthropology.&nbsp; Chandra subsequently earned his PhD in geography from the University of Hawaii and returned to Pokhara to become director of the Annapurna Conservation Area Project. Gurung actively promoted ecotourism, landscape conservation, and biodiversity conservation in Nepal. His life was cut short along with those of 23 other Nepalis and foreigners who perished in a helicopter crash near Taplejung in September 2006.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow's four books on Nepal and its biodiversity. </figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy worked with several well-known Nepalis to publish her paintings and photos in beautifully illustrated books. She and Hemanta Mishra of the National Parks and Wildlife Service wrote Wild Animals of Nepal (Ratna Pustak Bhandar, 1976). More than 400 photos Dorothy took on treks to the Everest region, Gosaikunda, Muktinath, Jumla and Rara Lake, as well as travels in the Tarai, appeared in Himalayan Flowers and Trees (Sahayogi Prakashan, 1978).&nbsp; The botanist Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha identified the species. Dorothy and Kesar Lall published This Beautiful Nepal (Sahayogi Press, 1981). Birds of the Central Himalayas (1988) contained Dorothy’s paintings of 250 species of birds found along the areas of the Kali Gandaki River, Pokhara, Chitwan and the central Tarai. Dorothy summed up her life and work in Nepal in Thirty Years in Pokhara (Pilgrims Book House, 1997). Dorothy returned to Pokhara and her adopted Gurung family several times during the 1980s and 1990s to celebrate festivals and meet old friends. Her final years were spent at her mountain cottage in Green Mountain Falls north of Colorado Springs. She died at the age of 79 in August, 2000. Nepal gave new meaning and purpose to Dorothy Mierow’s life. Daniel W Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. The author thanks Special Collections, Tutt Library, Colorado College.

How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer’s life

· On the night of 15 May, two glacial lakes burst in Tharka in Humla and the debris flow washed away homes and bridges.&nbsp; · Last week, a slurry surge on the Kali Gandaki in Upper Mustang caused at least Rs15 million in damage, and was traced to a melting glacier. · Dozens are feared dead after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">an expanding glacial lake in Tibet overflowed</a>, sweeping down into Nepal and damaging four hydropower plants generating 230MW, nearly 8% of the country’s total grid supply.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060748_45225dc707c1e9c2968ca8dbf6e564e01e4eb6e2ff254fb8eb940cf62cdd910b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250718060748_45225dc707c1e9c2968ca8dbf6e564e01e4eb6e2ff254fb8eb940cf62cdd910b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2667" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Rasuwa flood"> <figcaption>Miteri friendship bridge connecting Nepal and China was swept away in the Rasuwa flood. Photo: PRAKASH CHANDRA TIMILSENA / NPL</figcaption> </figure>  And those are just in the past month. Climate scientists say Himalayan glacial lake outbursts are becoming more frequent and destructive, and a warning for Nepal not to put all its eggs in the hydropower basket.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">Record precipitation last September</a> unleashed floods that killed 200 people, and temporarily slashed Nepal’s total generation capacity of 3,000MW by nearly half. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster">Melamchi flood of 2021</a> caused by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-not-so-permanent-frost">permafrost melting</a> on a glacier upstream nearly destroyed a $800 million water supply scheme, Nepal’s largest infrastructure project which four years later still has not resumed full operation. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">glacial lake overflow in Sikkim</a> caused by record rainfall in September 2023 that destroyed the $1.2 billion Chungthung Dam and caused catastrophic damage to infrastructure on the Teesta River. This was a warning to the cascade of hydropower plants on the Arun and Marsyangdi river basins.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060736_6f61797a6be308321e3bae26e55d2f64cba4b9e5eb262adacb9e92fb5f3c6152.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250718060736_6f61797a6be308321e3bae26e55d2f64cba4b9e5eb262adacb9e92fb5f3c6152" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="549" loading="lazy" alt="hydro disasters and hydropower plants"> </figure>  Nepal has set a target of generating an additional 28,500MW by 2035 -- out of the feasible 48,000MW -- but how viable is an energy strategy that is exposed to heightened risk due to climate breakdown? &nbsp; “As extreme weather events increase, we must design and build infrastructures respecting river flow and topography,” says former Energy Secretary Dwarika Nath Dhungel. “We must make the best use of our water resources, but not by letting excavators loose everywhere mining riverbeds and building haphazardly where we shouldn’t.”&nbsp; Although no project can be disaster-proof, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure">climate smart design</a> can minimise damage from flash floods and landslides. Recent disasters have driven up insurance premiums for energy projects in Nepal, and smaller ones cannot even afford them. The 456MW Upper Tamakosi hydroelectric project which is still not fully functional after the September floods has claimed insurance worth Rs1.8 billion. The alternative to high risk high investment hydropower projects is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-s-cooking-in-nepal-besides-politics">energy diversification</a> to other renewables such as solar, wind or biogas. Nepal gets annual sunlight of 300 days with 6-7 hours on average to total 50,000 terawatt-hours (TWh) per year.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060744_4acd452b4117180ca9bb5d3be839ff46dfd5464e4d507f5ad3704cef6253bc48.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250718060744_4acd452b4117180ca9bb5d3be839ff46dfd5464e4d507f5ad3704cef6253bc48" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="solar power"> <figcaption>Farmers in Tarai using solar powered water pump. Photo: GHAMPOWER</figcaption> </figure>  The Solar and Wind Energy Resource Assessment (SWERA) calculates that Nepal could source 3,000MW from wind energy alone, considering 10% of the area with more than 300W/m2 wind power density. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Solar energy</a> stations are cheaper and quicker to build, and would be an ideal alternative to reliance on hydropower.&nbsp; “There has been some investment in solar power, especially from the state sector,” says water expert Madhukar Upadhyay. “But there is an issue of land acquisition since the arrays need a lot of space. It is comparatively easier to get a permit to put up a hydropower plant on a river.” As for biogas, there is simply no incentive to build on past success with household level plants to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-bullshit">promote industrial-scale production</a>. Scaling up biogas by integrating it with urban biodegradable waste would still be a viable alternative to LPG.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060744_715d44afd5eb4ba8dafa209b0ad0f19400665797b5f078f5636821e600f96684.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250718060744_715d44afd5eb4ba8dafa209b0ad0f19400665797b5f078f5636821e600f96684" data-rendition-name="original" width="1419" height="954" loading="lazy" alt="windmill"> <figcaption>A wind mill in Hapsikot in Nawalpur. Photo: WINPOWER NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s public sphere is buzzing with excitement over the discovery of potentially 430 billion cubic metres of methane gas beneath Dailekh district that, if properly harnessed, would meet the country’s energy demand for the next 50 years. Even though a feasibility study is awaited, politicians from the prime minister down see this as a petro bonanza that will make Nepal rich. But drilling, storage and distribution of CNG in the country’s current kleptocratic state make that unlikely. If Nepal was to get rich solely on its hydro-energy potential, it could have done so in the past 50 years. Says Dhungel: “This is not exactly a new discovery, but it is premature to celebrate until its extraction is proven to be cost effective. And let us hope it does not get <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balance-of-power">tangled in geopolitics</a>, since China is involved in the prospecting and drilling, which could make India uneasy.”&nbsp; The country suffers from the Dutch Disease curse even before its resource is fully exploited. And the same cronyism, corruption and rent-seeking structure cannot deliver the riches we expect from Dailekh’s methane discovery. Now, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/right-climate-for-nepal-s-energy-transition">with hydropower in jeopardy</a>, Nepal’s planners will have to evolve a new strategy for energy security into the future. But first, governance needs to be cleaned up with long-term strategic planning that takes climate risk into account. For example, do we need to mine fossil gas when there are renewable options? Will Dailekh take Nepal away from its climate commitments? Says Madhukar Upadhyay: “Nepal has always been resource rich and management poor. And the larger the resource, the bigger our management incapacity. It is a societal malaise.”&nbsp;

Nepal’s Resource Curse

Nepalis are living longer than ever. By 2028, the country is set to join the ranks of other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-demographic-window-is-closing">ageing societies</a> around the world, and by 2054, 1 out of every 7 people in Nepal will be over 65. Life expectancy at birth has risen dramatically from just 55 in 1990 to 71 today, &nbsp;thanks to improvements in public health and access. But as more people live longer, the country must also prepare for a parallel rise in age-related illnesses and the complex social and medical needs that come with an <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/need-to-prepare-for-ageing-society,3624">ageing population</a>. Extended families have always acted as a safety net for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/home-sweet-home-for-older-nepalis">the elderly</a>, with children and grandchildren shouldering most caregiving duties. But with more than 1,600 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">Nepalis migrating </a>every day, older parents are left behind with no one to care for them. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-equaliser">Remittances</a> from migrating youth, which account for nearly a third of Nepal’s GDP, have kept the economy afloat. But money sent home cannot make up for the chronic departure of kin and caregivers, who are often the first to catch the signs and symptoms of disease in elders. In rural areas where over 85% of Nepal’s elderly live, the absence of this daily vigilance means early signs of illness often go unnoticed until they become debilitating. As a result, chronic conditions like hypertension, diabetes, and depression are left unmanaged.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250720130748_213f2c65f2638872e9ac0550a7ac251e4960c3726dc5c76215962a23ba71dff1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250720130748_213f2c65f2638872e9ac0550a7ac251e4960c3726dc5c76215962a23ba71dff1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="701" loading="lazy" alt="Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier"> </figure>  Geriatric medicine is largely absent from medical curricula and there is no national plan in place to manage cognitive decline, memory loss and confusion. These are often mistaken for signs of normal ageing, instead of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dementia-brings-new-problem-that-families-have-little%20knowledge-of,2151">dementia</a>, delaying care until it is too late. The same pattern plays out with strokes, osteoarthritis, and vision problems — conditions that could be managed early but are instead allowed to spiral into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/changing-disability-to-this-ability-h68f6sq2">disability</a>. Nepal is not ready for an older future. It needs a strategy for ‘smart ageing’ where the focus is not adding years to life, but enhancing years lived through the intelligent application of policy, infrastructure, and crucially, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">technology</a>. Many models of smart ageing, however, are sculpted around modern societies where independent living in later life is the norm. Furthermore, eroding traditional family care and an underdeveloped formal care system means there is a large gap that can’t simply be filled by copy-pasting from foreign models. Nepal must shape its own version of smart ageing. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/healthcare-moving-from-hospitals-to-homes?%2F">tech boom</a> has led to homegrown digital healthcare apps such as Hamro Doctor, Cura Health, Jeevee and Health Yaad Ayo which offer teleconsultations, online appointments, and at-home test bookings. As <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/nepal-s-new-digital-landscape">smartphones and internet access</a> extend to the most rural fringes of the Nepali countryside, geography is no longer a barrier to the use of these digital tools. What limits their use is the lack of digital proficiency among the older generation. Others find the idea of turning to a device instead of a familiar, reassuring face unfathomable. That is why <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/addressing-nepals-digital-divide?ref=blog.togglecorp.com">digital literacy</a> efforts must be paired with guided human support to build trust alongside technical skill. Such a model of community-led digital mediation is already gaining traction elsewhere. In the UK, ‘digital health ambassadors’—often young people or even schoolchildren—are trained to co-design and advocate for online platforms that resonate with peers who might otherwise feel excluded from automated health services. A Nepali version could engage cohorts of nursing students, tech-savvy youngsters and returnee migrants to assist elders in navigating digital health platforms and troubleshooting problems, and most of all, normalising the idea of health apps being a reliable recourse.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250720130748_fcb94ab76e76b5574189757e88d76fccad4e115e78dd9eae92a3bd4c882c3431.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250720130748_fcb94ab76e76b5574189757e88d76fccad4e115e78dd9eae92a3bd4c882c3431" data-rendition-name="original" width="2246" height="1590" loading="lazy" alt="Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier"> </figure>  Nepal’s own network of Female Community Health Volunteers (FCHVs), whose credibility is rooted in long-standing relationships across rural communities, could be similarly upskilled, their roles in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/target-2030-for-maternal-and-newborn-health">maternal and child health </a>expanded and repurposed to also include geriatric tech support. However, there is a limit to how much older adults can adapt to new technologies. So, Nepal should simultaneously invest in passive technologies—tools that monitor and act for the elderly, instead of demanding active use. That is where wearables and in-home smart health devices collectively known as 'gerontechnology' come in. Picture an 82-year-old in far-flung Rolpa, away from the facilities of an urban hospital. Installed in her home are low-cost motion sensors that monitor prolonged inactivity or signs of a fall, instantly triggering alerts to the nearest health post when necessary. On her wrist, a wearable bracelet continuously tracks her sleep, vital signs, oxygen saturation, and glucose levels. This data is encrypted and synced to a digital dashboard accessible by health staff at the local post. If the system flags an acute risk—such as a potential stroke or hypoglycemia—a nearby health worker is dispatched immediately to her home. If her readings over time indicate a trend toward a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepalis-have-high-blood-pressure">chronic condition</a> like diabetes, community health volunteers step in. They help schedule a virtual consultation with an endocrinologist in Butwal. Based on the advice received, she gets a prescription and picks up her medication from the local community pharmacy, along with a smart dispenser to ensure she sticks to her treatment plan without missing doses. This is not as far-fetched as it may sound. Many of the individual devices forming this connected medical system called an Internet of Medical Things (IoMT) already exist in Nepal as imported commercial products. What is missing is a stronger framework for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/public-health-partnership">public-private collaboration</a>: one where health tech companies continue developing locally adapted tools, and the government actively integrates these innovations into public health delivery. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/nepal-as-an-ai-power-bank">Nepal’s tech ecosystem</a> is maturing, but policymaking must evolve in tandem, especially when it affects an older generation largely resistant to change. The backlash against the recent mandate requiring National Identity Cards for accessing social security benefits revealed the pitfalls of imposing top-down reforms without adequate preparation or support for seniors. For Nepalis to age well, community caregivers, doctors, innovators, and above all, the state, must step in where families have stepped away. The goal is not to replicate traditional care, but to build a coordinated system of support that connects everyone through technology. The future is older for Nepal, let us be wiser too. The writers are pursuing their undergraduate studies in biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier

चौतारा rest stops have long been an integral part of scenic touristic town of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-six-decades-ago">Pokhara </a>but are now rarely seen as the city bursts at the seams. They say inhabitants of Pokhara saw a plane before they saw cars. Indeed, the grass airfield was built in the 1950s, while the Kathmandu highway 20 years later. Before roads, people walked to get around, pausing to rest or even nap under the shade of banyan-pipal trees. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-s-desperation-and-hope">Pokhara airport’</a>s ‘terminal’ in those days was a shady chautara where passengers waited for their flights. The chautara bore silent witness to daily life, whether it was travellers seeking a brief respite from the summer heat or villagers gathering for a chat in the mornings and evenings. But with the roads came vehicles, and then houses started filling up spaces, even farmlands. Pokhara began transforming from a serene village to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-comes-alive-at-night">bustling city</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2147" height="1581" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  The banyan-pipal trees were chopped down to make way for wider intersections and buildings. The once-iconic rest stops that carried Pokhara’s identity had all but vanished. “Building chautara was once considered a religious duty, which is why so many of them were constructed across Pokhara,” says archivist Sunil Ulak. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10927">Ekai Kawaguchi</a>, a Japanese Buddhist monk, who visited Nepal 120 years ago en route to Tibet, documented <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-visitors-in-pokhara-to-admire-view">the landscape of Pokhara</a> and its surroundings. In his book, Three Years in Tibet, he reflects on the natural beauty of the town and its shady trees. A chautara used to be surrounded by ponds, where shepherds would bring their cattle to drink from while they took a nap under the shade. The gentle rustling of leaves in the cool breeze lent a soothing melody as did the chirping of birds, while the insects took refuge in the branches and leaves. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-800-years-ago">Pokhara 800 years ago</a>, Kunda Dixit This ‘nature’s breeze’, as botanist Kalyan Panta puts it, is now history due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">haphazard urbanisation</a>. “When the wind strikes against one leaf, it creates a domino effect and other leaves start waving as well,” he explains. There were 632 chautara in the city until 1977, and by 2000 the number had fallen to 278. But in some wards the number of trees fell from 55 in 1984 to only five now.&nbsp; The gradual loss of these resting places has meant habitat <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">destruction of birds and insects</a>, it has also damaged the environment and natural beauty of the city.&nbsp; Researcher Jagannath Adhikari’s study showed that infrastructure projects ignored the environment, and concluded that that urbanisation in Pokhara was unsustainable.&nbsp; The destruction continues to this day. Recently, old chaurata in wards 6, 13 and 14 were cleared to make way for a sacrificial ritual. In fact, ward 6 got a permit from the local government to clear its remaining trees.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  But in wards 13 and 14, the Human Service Foundation cut down some 33 trees for which it is in a dispute with the metropolitan city as there is no unclear jurisdiction regarding who gives the permit. The Kaski Division Forest Office is currently investigating the matter. Elsewhere in ward 19, the ward office had launched ‘मेरो रूख, म काट्छु’ campaign due to an alleged chaos caused by monkeys in the area. The decision was rescinded after an all-around opposition.&nbsp; To be sure, there are policies in place to protect trees such as the Gandaki Province Forestry Act, 2080, and the Regulations, 2081. The province government also introduced an act in 2019 per which no tree, including pipal, silk cotton and other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/trees-trees?%2F">trees of natural and historical importance</a> shall be damaged, eroded or removed. But the local government, responsible for implementing the Act, is doing the opposite. “If this rapid rate of tree felling continues, neither trees nor chautara will survive for the future generation,” conservationist Ram Bahadur Poudel tells us, adding that old trees are being cleared under the pretext of pruning branches. Interestingly, Ulak notes that Pokhara-8 was called सिमलचौर in the past because there were so many majestic silk cotton trees, but there are very few left, if any, and hence altering the identity of a place. With modernisation, people have questioned the significance of chautara in this day and age. But they still have relevance. Urban centres in Pokhara and Kathmandu are much hotter than the outskirts because of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/in-the-heat-of-the-moment-5xcycyot">urban heat island effect</a>. Says archivist Ulak: “While their original purpose was to provide rest, today they continue to play a crucial role in regulating temperature, beautifying the city, and preserving our environment.”