The history of slavery is as old as human civilisation. One explanation was that slaves became necessary when there was an abundance of land, but lack of labour. It was profitable for landlords to use forced labour to increase production.&nbsp; In the Subcontinent and Nepal slavery was linked to powerful land-owning classes and their power. People, usually from ‘lower’ castes in pre-modern Nepal did not own property, and paid off debts through inter-generational bonded labour. They were also subjugated to enslavement as a punishment for criminal offences. A new book, Slavery and Unfree Labour in Nepal: Documents from the 18th to Early 20th Century, delves into this dark side of history using documents and manuscripts from pre-modern Nepal. Politics and the hierarchical caste system shaped slavery. Edited by Manik Bajracharya, a researcher at the Heidelberg Academy of Sciences and Humanities, the book cites the example of a bondservant who was recaptured after two years, and his bondage renewed with a fine added to the principal. People of disadvantaged castes were forced to abide by the terms of their landlords. Kamaiya and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/from-slave-to-freedom-fighter">Kamlari</a> were slave women under a bonded labour system prevalent in the western Tarai. Interestingly, if a Kamaiya woman gave birth to a child of her landlord master during the period of her servitude, the offspring would be considered a legitimate child and be eligible to property like any other children. The women would also be freed from slavery. However, the prevailing laws allowed men to have sexual relations with slave women while also allowing their husbands to kill the partner. There were rules designed to exercise control over people of lower castes, defining the social order. The chain of dependency in a household, hierarchy in castes, and gender discrimination were all aggravated by slavery. True, such a patriarchal mindset is still deeply entrenched in India and Nepal, but slavery took this discrimination to an extreme — beyond just exploitation of labour. The book contains several accounts of bondage and slavery including fines and actions following which a person became a slave. The caste system overlaid slavery. Terms like ‘sacred thread wearing caste’, ‘non-enslavable alcohol drinking caste’, ‘enslavable alcohol drinking caste’, ‘water unacceptable but touchable’, ‘untouchable’ are frequently used in the book, indicating the labels and hierarchies at the time. LAW VS PRACTICE Prime Minister Chandra Shumsher Rana passed an edict abolishing slavery in 1924, although formally it was enacted only two years later. He said Hindu tenets condemned slavery, and asked slaveholders to release all slaves. The move was applauded by the international audience and the slaves themselves. But there were rumours that he had married a slave, which motivated his move to abolish the system. Regardless, slavery was done away with in Nepal. A letter written by Chandra Shumsher to Hugh J Wilkinson, the first British envoy to Nepal, asks him to arrange funds for slave emancipation to pay off the slave owners. In subsequent correspondence, the two exchange names of trustees, discuss progress and share receipts on the progress of the slave emancipation fund.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925130952_cecc9a32933ea1f62279cd2b7ea88bca1fd7062e7769ef2afd18ea27aa2f2e66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250925130952_cecc9a32933ea1f62279cd2b7ea88bca1fd7062e7769ef2afd18ea27aa2f2e66" data-rendition-name="original" width="768" height="432" loading="lazy" alt="slavery in Nepal"> </figure>  But laws take time to change deeply rooted cultural practices, and so it was with slavery. The Kamaiya and Kamlari and other forms of bonded labour continued. The 1990 Constitution prohibited all forms of slavery, but again it continued in different forms. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-slavery-to-salvation">Kamaiya system </a>was abolished in 2000 and Kamalari in 2013. But despite the ban and campaigns like Mukta Kamaiya, it persisted. Even when freed, it was not easy for the formerly enslaved to reintegrate into society. The book is not for the faint-hearted, and there are graphic details of some of the most heinous instances of inhumanity. But this also makes it an important documentation of a long and tumultuous time in Nepal’s history — especially for disenfranchised and excluded communities. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250930050924_b30cf2595721bb7db7035c8e42edef1ebaf34f93f773e210f83b04764948740e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250930050924_b30cf2595721bb7db7035c8e42edef1ebaf34f93f773e210f83b04764948740e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Slavery and unfree labour in Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

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Review

Slavery and unfree labour

The word for ‘development’ in Nepali is bikas. The world for destruction is binas. &nbsp; The two words not only rhyme, but replacing just one consonant gives it an opposite meaning. It also demonstrates how easily what we think is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/development-destruction-yt3t1yhu">‘Development’ can be destructive</a>.&nbsp; University libraries in Nepal and around the world are stacked with hundreds of books dissecting ‘development’. They can be divided broadly into at least two types: some authors define development as a moral imperative to improve living standards of people in the underserved parts of the world, mostly in the Global South.&nbsp; Others critique development either as being an ‘industry’, or as a continuation of the western colonial project that imposes dependency and corruption, perpetuates the donor-recipient hierarchy, and ends up disempowering intended beneficiaries. Somewhere in between are books by experts who have tried to find a middle path with concepts like ‘sustainable human development’, ‘people’s participation’ or ‘public-private partnership’. But even the staunchest proponents of traditional development models will admit that all is not well, somewhere along the line we lost our way. Peter Sutoris and Uma Pradhan have dared to take the bull by the horns to find a new path to ‘reimagine’ development, and explore new templates to confront a world wracked by interconnected crises of conflict, inequality, environmental decay and climate breakdown. Their book Reimagining Development: Bold Directions Towards a Thriving World lays out a roadmap for countries like Nepal as they try to fix what went wrong. Billions of dollars were poured into Nepal’s ‘development’ over the past seven decades, but the country is littered with the carcasses of failures like the rusted abandoned tractors from the Rapti Valley Development Project 65 years ago. To be sure, there have been catalytic success stories along the way. It is not a coincidence that whatever has worked well in Nepal since 1990 has the word ‘community’ in it — things fall into place when local groups are given ownership to decide what they need, and allowed to decide what they need to do.&nbsp; Some examples in the book include <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">Nepal’s community forestry project</a>, which Sutoris and Pradhan cite as an example of the kind of possibilities needed to reimagine development for a ‘thriving world’. Local communities were handed control to manage their natural resources, revive traditional conservation practices, and assert command over their own destiny. Nepal’s community forestry program together with the Local Self Governance Act that decentralised power to elected local bodies in the 1990s was the best example of how development can be a political act to ensure an equitable future, while conserving nature. Sutoris and Pradhan write: ‘Substantial evidence from Nepal indicates that community forestry enhances forest protection and regeneration … Village Development Committees that had adopted community forestry recorded a 77% increase in forested area, compared to a 13% increase in the villages without community forest.’&nbsp; Peter Sutoris was born in the former Czechoslovakia that saw the 1968 Prague Spring uprising and the Velvet Revolution of 1989. Uma Pradhan is from Nepal, which has witnessed successive People’s Movements in 1980, 1990, 2006 and earlier this month in 2025. &nbsp; ‘It was perhaps because of these experiences of witnessing the remaking of the world in the wake of the end of the Cold War that we come to this book with a strong belief that even the most rigid collective trajectories can and do change,’ the authors write in their introduction. Their book has three parts. The first one dissects the Development Industry and the model of perpetual ‘growth’. (Interestingly, the word ‘growth’ is used in medicine to signify malignancy.) The authors propose re-centering the stories of beneficiaries and their lived experiences which have been pushed to the margins in ‘project’ design of mainstream Development with a capital ‘D’. &nbsp; The book defines development with a lowercase ‘d’ as a more democratic bottom-up approach. Capital ‘D’ Development on the other hand involves ‘developers’ wanting to ‘develop’ societies, replicating the wasteful, unsustainable growth path of the industrialised countries. &nbsp; The book’s second section examines the tension between sweeping international concepts of development, and how it is not quite relevant to the reality of rural areas of countries like Nepal. The prevailing notion that development ‘aid’ flows mostly from cash rich countries to cash poor ones ignores the fact that it mostly takes from the poor in rich countries to give to the rich in poor countries. After all, the Global South also includes the underserved parts of the Global North.&nbsp; RETHINKING PROGRESS The Development Industry does ‘develop’ certain segments of the economy, just not so much the sections it is supposed to uplift. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/usnoaid">cancellation of USAID</a> this year vacated hundreds of rented offices and houses in Kathmandu, consultants and contractors became jobless, and even Nepal’s domestic airlines lost business.&nbsp; The third part of this book imagines what ‘A Thriving World’ can look like if we listened more to indigenous communities and their knowledge of the stewardship of nature, adopted best practices about inclusive and decentralised decision-making, and explores examples of ‘degrowth’ and ‘postgrowth’ to address unsustainable consumerist, extractivist economics, and the climate crisis. Sutoris and Pradhan admit that these concepts are not new. Practitioners have questioned the top-down model for decades, but their book Reimagining Development takes a fresh, non-conventional approach to bridging the best of the ‘old’ development discourse with a ‘new’ imagining that transcends entrenched positions. The authors cite Buddhist mindfulness techniques, the concept of ‘radical humility’ and the idea of deep time to zoom out for a fresh perspective on a novel development paradigm to ‘think about humanity’s position in the world’. ‘Ultimately, this book is likely to disappoint both the proponents and critics of development,’ the authors admit. ‘The proponents might view the arguments we put forward as too esoteric and not attuned to what can realistically be achieved. The critics might be dismayed by our &nbsp;unwillingness to dispose of the concept of development altogether and by our attempts to give credit to the Development establishment where credit is due. Our aim, however, is not to please either camp.’ The authors do not want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. However, the obsolete way of forcing soft states to adopt the path of linear modernisation and infinite growth so they can ‘graduate’ to a higher per capita income bracket must be rethought. Alternative models are available to confront the momentous crises facing people and the planet.&nbsp; Nepal’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus">GenZ protesters this month rose up</a> against corruption and bad governance. But underlying it was a failure of the development path that the country has chosen, which contributed to wanton destruction of ecosystems, the unequal allocation of &nbsp;benefits, and corruption that ensured both over- and under-development.&nbsp; Nepal’s young idealists may not have been able to articulate it in the language of academic discourse, but on social media platforms they have discussed a post-development era to reexamine and reimagine development, accountability, embedded ethnocentric hegemony, and an in-built structural inequality in the system.&nbsp; These lines from Sutoris and Pradhan’s book could almost be word-for-word from the GenZ manifesto: ‘Development encompasses not only financial prosperity but social justice, environmental sustainability, and the more plural development pathways that respect the world’s diverse cultural, historical, political, and social contexts.’&nbsp; Indeed, instant global connectivity through social media platforms has meant that socio-political movements elsewhere in the world impacted on young Nepalis, just as the events in Nepal this month are now influencing youth globally.&nbsp; These lines from Reimagining Development were written before the September Uprising in Nepal, but were a warning of things to come: ‘The current moment feels different. Perhaps due to the global nature of many of the contemporary movements facilitated by social networks, perhaps due to the movements’ sheer scale, or perhaps as a result of the multitude of challenges faced by the world, the feeling in the air seems to be that accumulated critiques of Development are more pressing than ever. If development is to remain a historical moment, it must reinvent itself and finally listen to the voices from below.’ &nbsp; Kunda Dixit is the author of Dateline Earth: Journalism As If the Planet Mattered, and publisher of Nepali Times.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092704094_b795907f8fa9a5ec67508e683e7a65737c6c237ca5482425bcbe5ee6254bb3f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025092704094_b795907f8fa9a5ec67508e683e7a65737c6c237ca5482425bcbe5ee6254bb3f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Development book details"> </figure>

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Deconstructing development in an age of crises

A cosy art space in Thamel comes alive this month with soft light filtering through glass windows and settling gently on ceramic works that radiate both silence and strength. Much like specks of dust shimmering in a sunbeam, fragments of uneven mirrors scattered at the centre of the exhibition catch fleeting reflections of passersby that force visitors to reflect on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-fabric-of-society">life and society</a>. From a distance, the mirrors resemble playful, anime-style sunny side ups in bright shades. It may look random, but on closer inspection the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/hari-the-potter">meticulous craftsmanship</a> reveals itself in every curve, giving more permanent shape and form to the artist’s fingers on the original clay. Alongside are cups, vases, and plates adorned with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/facades-and-flowers-from-nepal-to-italy">delicate sketches</a> of animals, houses, and trees. Some have inscriptions drifting across surfaces like floating letters. The vases rise in varying heights, dressed in muted greens, while some are blended with soft browns and yellows.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025082711084_3ccb0e0e002bee9521867cbca82d56a1dc1e3ed799c5159fc07adc6f674325ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025082711084_3ccb0e0e002bee9521867cbca82d56a1dc1e3ed799c5159fc07adc6f674325ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="810" loading="lazy" alt="Firing her imagination"> <figcaption>Photo: DALAI-LA ART SPACE</figcaption> </figure>  “Ceramics have taught me patience in unpredictability,” says ceramic artist Aishworya Shakya, 26, whose work is currently on display at Dalai-la gallery in Thamel. Shakya began with simple drawings, but as she delved deeper into her studies of fine arts, she began exploring new concepts and methods of idea formation. She found herself increasingly drawn to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/take-to-pottery-during-the-pandemic">the expressive potential of ceramics</a>. “Clay is flexible and transformative, and the process of turning it into a hardened form is cathartic,” she explains. “For me, it’s about free forms, feelings, and the intangible, which often take shape in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/kiran-manandhar-in-the-abstract">abstract ways </a>through ceramics.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250827100812_4e2efcf1284d6589d5eafb34b276b8d4c69ebba9453efe4af9a70c51b2e31d6f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250827100812_4e2efcf1284d6589d5eafb34b276b8d4c69ebba9453efe4af9a70c51b2e31d6f" data-rendition-name="original" width="739" height="985" loading="lazy" alt="Firing her imagination"> <figcaption>Photo: DALAI-LA ART SPACE</figcaption> </figure>  The writings on her finished ceramics are deeply rooted in her academic explorations of personal history. Shakya contemplated family relationships, and transformed them into patterns and inscriptions on clay — giving her private meditations an extension on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/an-ode-to-the-ordinary">life and lessons</a>. “It is never fixed what I want to make when I begin,” says Shakya. “There might be a frame, but never anything too specific. My forms come through an intuitive process. If I try to meticulously plan everything, it never works out, so I just let it flow.” What begins as an imagined idea often transforms through the process, shaped by the unpredictability of clay and fire, keeping her grounded and open-minded. Shakya’s works usually undergo three rounds in the furnace: beginning with bisque firing, followed by layers of engobe underglaze mixed with pigments, which she applies in three coats before the second firing. Finally, she adds the glaze before the final firing. The most demanding part is actually in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13617">preparing and mixing the clay</a>, removing bubbles, and refining it so the final product has at least some predictability, she says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025082711080_d4856f6f195e9b2ad06144832121da0068aaf0f94800c483b278a204fbf3865e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025082711080_d4856f6f195e9b2ad06144832121da0068aaf0f94800c483b278a204fbf3865e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Firing her imagination"> </figure>  The title Burned and Being comes from the ceramic-making process itself. “But more than just the process, it is an embodiment of my existence. As a person learning to take up space, I am filling my surroundings with things that inspire and align with me to create a sense of being and take a stand for myself,” Shakya explains. The artist is now looking ahead to expand her art beyond vases and mirrors to explore more sculptural forms. Burned and Being Till 30 September 11am to 7pm Dalai-la Art Space, Thamel

Firing her imagination

One of the most powerful recent examples of hyperlocal conservation in the Himalaya is the effort by two sisters from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/time-catching-up-with-timeless-dolpo?fbclid=IwAR2B6FetDVAJWvgdfdSjZMmfqm8HkNhs9111d-rxaMyDHDKU_SiVsgjQ0ew" target="_blank">Dolpo</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-leads-in-snow-leopard-study" target="_blank">Tshiring Lhamu Lama</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/trekking-to-save-nepals-snow-leopards" target="_blank">Sonam Choekyi Lama</a>, to protect Nepal’s snow leopards. Their decade-long work to save the endangered and elusive Himalayan cat in this distant district of Nepal is now featured in a compelling new documentary. <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt31034190/" target="_blank">The Snow Leopard Sisters</a> has been doing rounds of film festivals in North America to critical acclaim since its world premiere at <a href="https://www.sxsw.com/" target="_blank">SXSW</a> in Austin in March, and has been screened at <a href="https://www.mountainfilm.org/festival/" target="_blank">Telluride</a> and other festivals. The documentary received much praise for its many-layered depiction of the struggle between ecology and economics, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/image/Lucky-number-7,1036" target="_blank">tradition and modernity</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/new-high-way-to-dolpo" target="_blank">indigenous and mainstream</a>, spiritualism and materialism, gender equality and entrenched patriarchy, and <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_879.pdf" target="_blank">conservation versus livelihoods</a>. The sisters in the Snow Leopard Sisters are actually not <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Shey-Phoksundo-may-soon-become-a-bus-park,3975" target="_blank">Tshiring Lhamu</a> and Sonam Choekyi. Tshiring is the documentary’s main protagonist, and her sister Sonam is the film’s co-director currently based in New York. Sisters refers to Tshiring Lhamu and 17-year-old Tenzin Bhuti whom she takes on as an apprentice for snow leopard research in Upper Dolpo. Tenzin’s women-led household had just lost 40 of its goats to a snow leopard attack, and Tshiring knows that snow leopards cannot be saved unless the Dolpopa learn to live with the cats. The nocturnal predators have this cruel habit of entering livestock corrals and killing for the sake of killing many more goats and yaks than they can possibly eat. But snow leopards are also regarded as sacred <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ghosts-of-the-himalaya" target="_blank">‘pets of the gods’</a> in the Buddhist regions of northern Nepal. There are only about 400 snow leopards in Nepal, 90 of them in Shey-Phoksundo National Park in Dolpo where their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/guarding-the-guardians-of-the-himalaya" target="_blank">numbers are shrinking</a> because of retaliatory poisoning by herders to protect livestock and climate breakdown. Ever since she was growing up, Tshiring Lhamu harboured a deep spiritual affinity for snow leopards. At the beginning of the film, we see Tshiring playing back a camera trap clip of the trail above Phoksundo Lake when she sees a pair of snow leopards ambling past the field of vision.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250812140852_e844fff70ec3adf236b224b5ef343bc0a2435e00815479df3a95a6aa3d9b67b2.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250812140852_e844fff70ec3adf236b224b5ef343bc0a2435e00815479df3a95a6aa3d9b67b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1068" height="1498" loading="lazy" alt="Snow Leopard sisters"> </figure>  She lets out an ecstatic shriek, and narrates: “The first time I saw snow leopards, I fell in love.” Tshiring Lhamu quit her job with the national park and struck off on her lonely quest to find ways to save the cats from revenge attacks of herders. The film follows a parallel plot of Tenzin, who has just lost a sister she was close to, the family’s goat herd has been massacred by snow leopards, and her father is jailed. She is under pressure from her grandfather to get married “because it is our culture and karma”. The stories of the two women then converge: Tshiring Lhamu takes Tenzin under her wing as a trainee. Because her family is angry with snow leopards, it will help if she can convince Tenzin about the importance of conservation which she can then pass on to her community. But the family gives Tenzin a two-week ultimatum, she will have to get married to a cousin after the apprenticeship is over. Directors Ben Ayers, Andrew Lynch and Sonam Choekyi Lama have used Dolpo’s stunning landscape as a backdrop for a nuanced and sensitive portrayal of the bond between the two women in their quest to find snow leopards — with Tshiring’s baby son Sontse strapped to her back. There are spectacular drone shots of the three as they cross the high passes to Komang and Shey Gompa. The cinematography evokes the sweeping scenery of films shot in Dolpo like <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8861" target="_blank">Éric Valli</a>’s 1999 documentary <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13437" target="_blank">Caravan</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/min-bahadur-bham-s-cinematic-quest" target="_blank">Min Bahadur Bham</a>’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2EXOwDgrIg&amp;t=25s" target="_blank">Shambhala</a> last year. The snow leopard is up there in the crags somewhere, sleeping. But in the mornings and evenings, they are so well camouflaged they are invisible. All this is also reminiscent of <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/science/elements/peter-matthiessens-the-snow-leopard-in-the-age-of-climate-change" target="_blank">Peter Matthiessen</a>’s 1974 book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Snow-Leopard-Penguin-Classics/dp/0143105515" target="_blank">The Snow Leopard</a> about his unsuccessful quest with zoologist George Schaller to sight the animal in Dolpo. The snow leopard becomes a spiritual and existential symbol of something much greater than just the cat. There is a similar transcendental undertone in Snow Leopard Sisters, as the camera follows the two scouring the jagged horizon through binoculars. Tshiring patiently mentors Tenzin about data-keeping, analysing tracks in the snow, sniffing urinary markers, deciphering fresh scat, finding fur stuck to rocks, and installing cameras.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250812140848_62407d923f1d10bc5021b7a89ba1f6293aa2365ee650a49528e9b132b31704ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250812140848_62407d923f1d10bc5021b7a89ba1f6293aa2365ee650a49528e9b132b31704ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="675" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Snow Leopard Sisters"> </figure>  Tshiring Lhamu and Tenzin Bhuti pin their hope on monks, hoping that they can convince their congregation not to kill the predators. But in Shey-Saldang, monk Tondup Lama tells the two women the snow leopard is a “demon, possessed by the devil … it has only sin its heart”. The dejected women and baby press on over the 5,010m Shey Pass to where head monk Lopan Dawa Tenzin in Tsakang Monastery has declared Dolpo a haven for all animals. “Everywhere people are violating the rights of animals, we destroy forests, we hunt, we set fires, fight wars, and drive animals away,” the monk says. “People have too much greed.” It is karma that has brought the two women together, he tells them, and their karma is now intertwined with the karma of the snow leopard. As the two-week internship nears its end, the prospect of marriage looms for Tenzin. But it is clear that the time with Tshiring has empowered her, she is now more confident and is determined not to get married. She visits her father in the prison in Dunai, who does not insist on marriage anymore. In an abrupt change of scenery, we see Tshring walking down a street in San Francisco with Sontse in a baby carrier on her back. Instead of towering mountains there are skyscrapers, and a sad snow leopard in the zoo. She is at a <a href="https://wildnet.org/" target="_blank">Wildlife Conservation Network </a>conference to speak and fundraise for her work in Dolpo. The Snow Leopard Sisters Impact Campaign is building new leopard-proof corrals for herders in Dolpo made by assembling light weight metal frames and gabion wire designed by Tshiring and Tenzin. This feature-length documentary needs to be screened in cinemas across Nepal not just to spread awareness about snow leopards, but the essence of what nature conservations mean for a society marching mindlessly in the pursuit of ‘development’. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE_l098CFIc" target="_blank">Snow Leopard Sisters</a> 90 min Cinematography: Sonam Choekyi Lama, Andrew Lynch Producers: Joanna Natasegara, Ian Davies, Tshiring Lhamu Lama, Torquil Jones Directed by Ben Ayers, Andrew Lynch and Sonam Choekyi Lama

Sisterhood of the snow leopard protectors

American artist Peter Makela was in Nepal in 2022 on a Fulbright scholarship when he experienced the Matya festival in Patan in which devotees made the rounds of the city’s shrines.&nbsp;
He joined the procession, walking through 2,600 stupa and 140 bahal of the town. That immersion left a lasting impression.
As part of Gallery Mcube’s international residency program in Patan, he put his inspiration to canvas in the exhibition Yala Yatra: Walking, Working, Worshipping. The exhibition also coincides with this month’s Matya festival.&nbsp;
Makela has visited Nepal often in the past 11 years but he mostly stayed in and spent his time around Boudha. “This time I stayed in Patan, put the sites I wanted to visit on my map, and off I went,” he tells us. “Each of my artwork is inspired by the stupas and shrines in Patan that I visited.”
The stupa and Ganesh are recurring motifs in his watercolours, and the elephant gods are located in chaityas — reflecting the interplay and blending of the Hindu and Buddhist faiths in Kathmandu Valley.&nbsp;
The stupas and Ganesh are painted in vivid red, yellow, blue and green against abstract backgrounds meant to represent the sky.
“I use the sky as a backdrop because the sky has no border,” says Makela. “The four colours represent the four elements, the different Buddha families and also lights bouncing off of a rainbow.”
The use of just four colours for all the artwork stands out, and combined with the absence of heavy canvases, frames or stands render Makela’s art striking in its simplicity.&nbsp;
The Ganesh is always holding something and the art also portrays the elephant god’s sacred vehicle, the mouse.
While his vibrant stupas and Ganesh reflect the tangibility of Patan’s tradition and heritage, it is as if the backdrops with their shades of grey and red and yellow capture the soul of the city’s shrines.
“If you look closely, there is a sense of form and formlessness at the same time,” he says.&nbsp;
Makela walked 108 kora around the shrines during his exploration of the town, and in the process developed a spiritual connection with Patan’s heritage and traditions.&nbsp;
The exhibition connects with visitors on a deeper, more spiritual, level as well. And with it, they feel a sense of pride as well as the need to urgently preserve Patan’s heritage for future generations.
“Peter’s inclination and approach towards Nepali art and culture is fascinating, and it reflects in his work,” says Mcube curator Manish Lal Shrestha, whose international artist residency program promotes Nepal’s cultural heritage. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Yala Yatra: Walking, Working, Worshipping
1-5 August&nbsp;
10AM-7PM
Gallery Mcube, Patan

Walking, working, worshipping in Patan

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 17 August

Vishad Raj Onta

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

In 2003, the death by police firing of a student protesting a rise in fuel prices pushed Nepal’s student activists to join the प्रतिगमन विरोधी आन्दोलन (Movement Against Regression), which political parties had begun after king Gyanendra’s sacking an elected government a year before. The students’ participation elevated the movement and prompted more Nepalis to join in, leading to the People’s Movement that first sidelined the monarchy and then abolished it in 2008.&nbsp; That took five years to happen. But 12 years later, this month, a youth-led protest forced the prime minister to resign within 30 hours.&nbsp; Police massacred GenZ activists, many of them students, outside Parliament on 8 September. This intensified public anger, leading to targeted attacks, looting, and burning of the homes of political leaders, private businesses, and public buildings.&nbsp; Amid the smouldering ruins of state institutions, young Nepalis chose a new prime minister to lead an interim government and deliver a fresh mandate. All of this happened in five days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="8000" height="5760" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Parliament building up in flames during the GenZ protest on 9 September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  Students have been central to Nepal’s democratic and political process since the mid 20th century. In her 2018 book Making New Nepal, researcher Amanda Thérèse Snellinger traces the history of student activism and politics against a background of &nbsp;Nepal’s socio-political history and party politics.&nbsp; Snellinger examines the interplay of ideology and identity, explores how student activists fit into a political landscape continually occupied by the traditional elite, and details how student leaders have established themselves through relationships with influential actors on local, national, regional, and transnational levels. The Rana regime’s repression caused students to be politically aware. In 1947, students held the first organised protest against the Rana autocracy demanding educational reforms. The breadth of student activism expanded during the Panchayat era after king Mahendra banned political parties, which drove mainstream politicians and parties underground. &nbsp;Student activists then became proxies for multiparty democracy because they were still able to organise.&nbsp; Student politics was institutionalised, and unions emerged as vanguard sister organisations of political parties. Student activism, more so than mainstream political parties, played key roles during &nbsp;both major movements in 1990 and the 2000s, as they mobilised the citizenry to join the democratic process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1952" height="2928" loading="lazy" alt="1990 people's movement Nepal"> <figcaption>The iconic image of the 1990 People's Movement agaist the autocratic Panchyat regime of the king. Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption> </figure>  Through extensive ethnographic research between 2003 and 2015, Snellinger investigates the political coming of age of student activists during the final years of the armed insurgency and their role in and beyond the movement that ultimately abolished the monarchy. Her research revolves around the political journeys of five student activists: Akash and Rishi from the Nepali Congress (NC) student wing Nepal Student Union (NSU), Salini from the UML’s All Nepal National Free Students’ Union (ANNFSU-Akhil), Gyanu from ANNISU-Revolutionary of the Maoists, and Lagan, who began his political journey from Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party’s student wing Nepal Krantikari Bidyarthi Sangathan. The ‘movement against regression’ in 2003 served as the entry point &nbsp;for activists into national party politics. Indeed, it was their &nbsp;participation in the movement that elevated the profile of the main subjects of Snellinger’s research. In the years that followed, the paths of the five activists diverged. Some made it into mainstream politics, even becoming lawmakers. In doing so, they have had to trade idealism for pragmatism, and their attempts realise their previous vision for Nepal’s democracy have been overshadowed by their political opportunism and position. And even decades after they began their journey as student activists, the generation that the book focuses on are still considered &nbsp;‘youth’ leaders. Snellinger quotes a former student leader who joined mainstream politics as saying: “I am still a youth because &nbsp;my aspirations remain unfulfilled.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="2006 People's Movement of Nepal"> <figcaption>A student protester wearing a paper crown and ridiculing Gyanendra with an impersonation, a day after king stepped down and left his palace. Photo: AJAY JOSHI / A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, the refusal of Nepal’s octogenarian leaders to retire (even after The upheaval this month) has created a surplus of younger adults waiting in the wings, making the word ‘youth’ relative in Nepal’s political trajectory. Other subjects of Snellinger's research have retreated from student and mainstream activism, either in disappointment over their mother party’s retreat from some of their more radical positions, or to &nbsp;continue their work at the community level through education and journalism. One of them has leveraged her political connections to further women-led initiatives after unsuccessful election bids. Nearing the end of her research in 2015, Snellinger observes the disappointment of Madhesi communities whose movement to demand more inclusive provisions of the draft Constitution had gone in vain, even after 45 lives were lost.&nbsp; As the Constitution was promulgated in 2015, TVs were switched off in the Tarai, and there were sighs of resignation. In Kathmandu, Snelllinger noted that the student leaders that entered mainstream politics protesting for inclusive democracy had little empathy for the struggles and similar demands of groups in the Madhes. Despite the students’ role in ending the monarchy, Nepal’s political status quo has remained. The institutions and people that replaced the &nbsp;monarchy have allowed one set of Kathmandu elites to be replaced with another.&nbsp; The socio-political benefits promised during the movement two &nbsp;decades ago have remained tightly controlled by leaders who refuse to give up their hold on power. The political system was overhauled, but without concrete reform. It was only a matter of time before public frustration would boil over. Indeed, Snellinger concludes her book by predicting the inevitability of future movements in Nepal.&nbsp; She writes: ‘Leaders emerge through the andolan … a new generation will emerge shaped by Nepal’s accumulated socio-political heritage, which they will mediate to shape a liveable present and future for themselves in their country, perhaps by continuing the movement.’&nbsp; And that is exactly what happened on 8-9 September. Students marched in the streets demanding an end to corruption and impunity, but this time not as proxies of political parties.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z protest"> <figcaption>A student during the GenZ protest against acorruption on 8 September. Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Their desire for socio-political reform was apolitical at a time in Nepal’s history when the nation’s student organisations have weakened and lost credibility, mirroring the erosion of trust in their parent parties. Along with party-based student unions, the Free Student Union (FSU)— the umbrella body all student unions—has lost its reputation due to corruption and embezzlement. That is not to say there are no similarities in movements past and present. Whether political or apolitical, protests have been overshadowed by a lack of unity within the groups that spearhead movements. They have led to destruction of public and private institutions.&nbsp; Leaders of youth and student movements have also had to bear the brunt of the frustration of the people they represent when there is no delivery on their demands. The academics of students have suffered because of frequent lockouts of university and college administration. Youth andolan, whether political or apolitical, has been a rite of passage into Nepali democratic politics — dissensus is an integral part of political regeneration. It remains to be see how the fall &nbsp;from grace of political parties after the GenZ movement will affect their affiliated student unions. As elections approach, student unions and youth collectives will find their own footing in Nepal’s &nbsp;newly emerging socio-political landscape. The youth who took to the streets are asking for a complete overhaul for political parties. Establishmentarian leaders still have not seen the writing on the wall.&nbsp; NextGen leaders in their parties have been waiting for years for their turn &nbsp;to break through the glass ceiling. These established political actors will not go down without a fight in the run-up to March elections.&nbsp; Amanda Thérèse Snellinger perhaps needs a post-script or even a sequel to her book to see how a new generation of leaders, forged by their student activism, will compete in Nepal's new political arena.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Making new Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

What does a journalist do when young protesters are shot in front of her? Does she do her job and stay neutral? Can you stay neutral?&nbsp; As protests engulfed Kathmandu, Nepal's journalists found themselves reporting a story that was personal. While doing their job, some of them were even targeted by mobs.&nbsp; Dart Asia Pacific Fellow <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/arunkarki/" target="_blank">Arun Karki</a> visited their newsrooms and spoke with his colleagues on their experience of reporting the GenZ protests that erupted on 8 September. These are the first-hand accounts of journalists who witnessed the turmoil in the city they call home. Sunita Karki was at a workshop in a hotel on 8 September. She saw the first waves of protests through hotel windows. Curfew alerts flooded her phone, a vehicle belonging to a human rights group sat burning across the road, young boys were taking their wounded friends on motorbikes to the Everest Hospital, and police were beating a teenager with hands raised up.&nbsp; “I cried a lot,” she said, but the tears were not out of fear -- they were because she felt guilt. “I couldn’t write the news. We were witnessing these scenes from a five-star hotel.” By evening, the death toll had reached 19. On 9 September at about 3:35 p.m. &nbsp;her outlet, the Annapurna Post's office in Tinkune, Kathmandu, was set on fire. Staff had to leave the building as parts of the newsroom burnt down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dart Centre Asia Pacific"> </figure>  When she knew her office was burning, she anxiously told her husband that she would resign from the job: "If we have to hide our identification cards in every protest, what kind of journalist am I?" she asked herself. She filed a story the next day, but her emotions kept bouncing between that of a journalist’s duty and shock. She said that in moments like this, it’s hard to feel truly neutral. After watching the police beat people, she felt a strong urge to step in, not just stand back and report. The first real calm came later, when people came to the street and lit small candles together. “This was a sort of victory procession. I felt some relief after brutal days,” she said. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/angaddhakal/" target="_blank">Angad Dhakal</a> a photojournalist who works at Kantipur National Daily, was standing outside his office building when protesters stormed in and set parts of it on fire. He had already been informed that protesters were planning to torch his office building and &nbsp;rushed to his office hoping to save his hard drives containing ten years of photography work. He failed. He raised his camera and "forcefully" pressed the shutter - more to document the scene than out of "professional enthusiasm or duty".&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  “My office was burning. What should I photograph?” he recalled. A few moments later, a protester noticed the “PHOTO” label on his yellow Press jacket. Dhakal deflected it by saying he was an early career freelancer and YouTuber. So that protesters wouldn't find out, he went to one corner and took his jacket off. When it comes to covering street protests, &nbsp;Angad usually stands near the police because it feels safer. But on 8 September, fire and gunshots made even that area unsafe. A rubber bullet hit his friend Dipendra Dhungana that badly injured him.&nbsp; He thought, “Where do we go now? If we stay here, we’ll be hit.” After witnessing two days of protests, violence, and killings, and seeing his own office burning, he couldn't sleep for days. The same afternoon that government buildings burned and Kantipur was attacked, a message in a protest Discord forum talked openly of 'attacking Kantipur'.&nbsp; Rumours spread to other outlets. Outside OnlineKhabar's office, where <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/article/edit/7376157229248528384/?author=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_company%3A79132377#" target="_blank">Gaurav Pokharel</a> works, the newsroom manager saw “very suspicious people were walking around”. They lowered blinds, avoided windows, locked the front gate and dispersed staff to other places across the city. The outlet was threatened and effectively locked down, but not torched. Pokharel hid his press ID. “ I never showed the ID card. Sometimes I had to enter the crowd shouting slogans, just to blend in among the protesters,” he said. He watched people fall under gunfire, he helped pull one surrounded journalist out of a hostile crowd.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  As a freelancer, Gaurav also contributed articles for international outlets. Later, while transcribing an interview of a young protest organiser, he wrote to his editor at an international outlet : “This was very hard to write. I cried many times while doing it.” He had been working at a stretch for days battling bouts of exhaustion and low blood pressure.&nbsp; Protesters vandalised and set fire within the Singha Darbar complex housing Nepal Television and Radio Nepal. They tried to disrupt public broadcasting.&nbsp; Surendra Paudyal began the day with his press ID hanging on his neck, thinking it would let him move freely. But when he reached Singha Darbar around 3:30PM, the situation felt dangerous.&nbsp; He put the ID in his pocket. When asked what mattered most, he answered without pause: life comes first. In that moment, he felt real fear and a strong duty to protect his team.&nbsp; His focus narrowed to basic things: stay calm, find exits, get everyone out safely. Later, they were able to keep the 8 pm news on air through a regional link. He felt mixed emotions and a sense of relief that the broadcast continued, but also sadness and anger that their own studio had come under attack. Reprinted with permission from the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, a regional hub that provides trauma-informed support and advice to journalists.

"It is hard to feel neutral"

Harry Jackson was on an epic adventure ‘from Thailand to the UK on 2 wheels’ when he ran into the ultimate sidequest. Having just visited Zangla in Ladakh, Jackson had only landed in Kathmandu when he found himself in the middle of GenZ protests earlier this month. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w">Arriving in Nepal - Chaos, Protest &amp; Curfews</a>’ is the title of his first video (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wehatethecold/videos">wehatethecold on YouTube</a>) about the protest. He shoots police as they shoot at protesters outside Parliament. Jackson is riding a Honda CT125, a retro lightweight motorbike with off-road capabilities. Strapped to the bike is his sparse luggage, flute, and a faded Union Jack. People are rioting on the streets and there is a heavy armed police presence as he makes his way to his hostel in Thamel. His vlog the day after on 9 September has 29 million views. In ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyxSqeFrlp0">The side of Nepal the media won’t show you</a>’, Jackson rides his bike straight at the crowd just past the Parliament building into Old Baneswar.&nbsp; He parks it and walks among the protestors, documenting it all: from the police firing capsules of tear gas into the crowd to the burning Parliament building as well as the jubilant, victorious crowd in the premises as they destroy police vehicles and dance. “I’m shocked at the scenes I’ve witnessed here today. I have truly witnessed history on a stupid trip from Thailand to England on a f***ing moped!” exclaims Jackson as he leaves the scene for the day, heading back to his hostel to edit the footage. The hostel is in direct contrast to the raucous scenes of the protest, as tourists and Nepalis sit and lounge at tables. ‘KUIRE VLOGGER’ Nepalis quickly called him the ‘kuire vlogger’, and attribute his skin colour to his popularity. Objectively, the videos are well made. Jackson goes full gonzo journalist, putting himself right in the heart of the action, talking directly to the people, all while narrating the events as they unfold. Despite being cut together in an entertaining way, the footage retains a raw, unpolished quality that outdoes what most professional journalists with a heavy duty camera crew could do. At a time when legacy media has been seen to be pushing biased narratives, Jackson wants to see for himself what happened, and make up his own mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1604" loading="lazy" alt="WehateTheCold"> </figure>  This kind of video journalism takes a lot of skill and a certain personality. Many people, almost everybody, had their phones out at the protests, but only a handful were like Jackson. He interviewed people firsthand, edited the clips and uploaded them the same day. Jackson continued his vlogging over the next few days as the curfew was first put in place and then lifted. He explores the city as the Valley rebounds. By this time, Nepalis recognise him everywhere he goes. Jackson had achieved moderate fame as a 23-year old DJ in Birmingham, but what he has done in Nepal is something else. Almost everyone he talks to has already seen his vlog, and they are all eager to interact. He has been on multiple podcasts in Nepal too, and most videos online on the protests reference his vlogs. Before his Nepal blogs, Jackson had a modest 16k subcribers on YouTube, but after Nepal figure is now almost 700k, gaining over 100k each through 11-13 September. Most of them are Nepali viewers. “I’m just a regular dude who just did what he wanted to do,” says Jackson on a podcast. “I wanted to go on an adventure, learn about history, and learn languages. And I wanted to film it, document it, and have a wicked film for my life to show future generations.” &nbsp;

The accidental journalist

Nepal is still reeling from the short but violent GenZ moment, and the reverberations are being felt around the world.&nbsp;
As news from the killings and rampage from Nepal on 8-9 September spread through the wire services and social media, in the Philippines, East Timor and even faraway Peru, banners on the streets last week referred to ‘learning lessons from Nepal’. In Ladakh last week, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/9/25/bloodiest-day-how-gen-z-protest-wave-hit-indias-ladakh-killing-four">protesters set fire to the ruling BJP party office</a> and four people were killed in police firing.&nbsp;
Nepal’s GenZ was praised by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/19/opinion/asia-protest-youth-nepal-bangladesh.html">international commentators</a> for rising up against chronic corruption and impunity, and for achieving the fastest regime change in history. But the youth were also blamed for the arson and vandalism even though the groups said they had no part in it — most &nbsp;foreign media also did not highlight enough the infiltration by radical groups.
“We were not expecting the protests to turn so violent and deadly. On the second day, things escalated so quickly it became difficult to keep track. We were rushing on the groud and making calls to confirm what was happening,” recalls Paavan Mathema of Agence France-Presse (AFP) in Nepal.
The GenZ protest this month was a lesson on the mechanics of social media. Hashtags like #youthagainstcorruption and #nepobaby from Indonesia inspired Nepal’s youth to take to the streets, but events here in turn triggered protests elsewhere. The international news agencies and mainstream global tv channels were not as important in this information cross-pollination.
The movement was organised online and spread quickly in no time, but it was disinformation and fake news that spread faster than facts. The over-simplification by international media was because it had to explain 30 years of political evolution in a country that they mostly ignored in the past, this sometimes tended to be misleading.&nbsp;
While the Oli government’s social media ban of 26 platforms starting 5 September poured oil on the fire that had already been lit by a disparate group of desperate youth, their outrage over decades of corruption and impunity was reaching a breaking point. There was extreme disenchantment with serial politicians recycling themselves in power.&nbsp;
“The ban on social media definitely triggered the protest, but we put a high priority on accuracy and speed during reporting in such times,” explains the Nepal correspondent for Associated Press (AP) news agency in Nepal Binaj Gurubacharya. “Our own safety also becomes a prime concern in times like these, but should not be at an expense of accuracy.”
CRISIS REPORTING
But headlines everywhere including in The New York Times, The Guardian and others that used wire service content initially highlighted the social media ban as the main reason for the protest. They were soon called out by protesters, while <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en/ajr/article/3358" target="_blank">Al Jazeera</a> and its <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en" target="_blank">Media Institute </a>were applauded for more nuanced coverage.
Another positive example of international media supplementing the stories by local journalists was <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/" target="_blank">France 24’</a>s detailed <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20250915-nepal-police-protests-violence-kathmandu" target="_blank">forensic analysis</a> of the security forces firing live ammunition at protesters at Parliament on 8 September.&nbsp;
What really went far and wide around the world were dramatic YouTube videos about the violence, and memes on social media. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-accidental-journalist" target="_blank">A British tourist</a> who filmed street protests did the work of an on-the-ground journalist and got millions of views globally for some of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w" target="_blank">his YouTube videos</a>.&nbsp;
But some of the misinformation or fake news on social media was also picked up by the mainstream press, like the <a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/south-asia/nepal-violence-ex-pm-khanals-wife-dies-after-house-torched-president-urges-calm-dialogue/articleshow/123791004.cms">wrongly reported death of former Prime Minister Jhalanath Khanal’s wife</a> in an arson attack on their home. A video of the Finance Minister Bishnu Poudel being <a href="https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/video-nepal-finance-minister-chased-through-street-kicked-attacked-9243749">chased and beaten</a> by protesters also turned out to be someone else.&nbsp;
Some international outlets, mainly in India, also fell prey to a fake video that K P Oli had fled to Dubai. Even this newspaper’s online edition had to correct it after wrongly reporting it without verification.&nbsp;
Indian tv channels which did &nbsp;extensive coverage of events in Nepal, with many Nepalis relying on them and believing their content — especially during the protests when Nepal’s main channels went off air as they were being attacked.
All this got out of hand, and protesters in the week after the violence started ridiculing and harassing Indian tv correspondents as they tried to interview talking heads outside the charred Parliament building, or on the streets.
<a href="https://www.newslaundry.com/2025/09/09/foreign-hand-gen-z-data-addiction-5-ways-indian-media-missed-the-nepal-story">Indian media</a> were also the first to accuse US involvement in sparking a ‘colour revolution’ in Nepal. They later claimed that former Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) chief and now Energy Minister Kulman Ghising and even Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah have been appointed interim prime minister in Nepal. These were rumours in Nepal, but were reported as news.&nbsp;
“Fact checking is crucial while covering such movements, and since we are telling an important story about Nepal to the world, double checking becomes important as it sets the international narrative,” says Mathema. “We were constantly double checking with concerned authorities as so much misinformation was being spread.”
“We were constantly double checking numbers and information with concerned authorities and parties to make sure we were accurate, especially as misinformation was rampant,” she adds.
Apart from Indian media, international news agencies got reinforcements of reporters, photojournalists and editors from the region, and other foreign correspondents also flew in when Kathmandu airport was opened after 48 hours.
Adds Mathema: “Sometimes foreign reporters can give a fresh perspective or an angle which we could not see or cover. So their inputs are always helpful.”
In the aftermath of the violence, there were plenty of jokes and memes, clips of protesters dancing, in weird poses and performing martial arts, showcasing the light hearted side of the protests while also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution">reaffirming the resilience</a> of people able to bounce back from something so traumatic.
The GenZ clean-up campaigns, neighbourhoods helping restore burnt out police stations and local people’s emotional reaction to the burnt out hulks of government buildings at the city centre also <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/people/article/3325635/nepals-gen-z-protesters-lead-clean-campaign-after-violent-clashes">made news</a>.
“After the protests, people were quick to gather and clean up public spaces and paint police stations. This is a scene which may not be so common in other countries with similar violence,” adds Gurubacharya. “So it became an important story to also tell the world.”&nbsp;
In less than two days, the world saw a dramatic toppling of a democratic government. With the interim government led by former chief justice Sushila Karki, there is much hope. She has expanded her ministerial cabinet, and the election has been announced for 5 March 2026 but between then and now, a lot remains uncertain.&nbsp;
And Nepal will continue to be watched by national and international media alike until then and after. AP’s Gurubacharya sums it up: “For now, we are taking it one day at a time.”