Water is life. Nowhere is that adage as relevant as in a village along the Tila River in this valley in far western Nepal. Fed by glaciers higher up, the river flows strong all year round. But just a few metres above its banks, terraced farms are high and dry and crops depend on the annual monsoon. Farmers here have a traditional irrigation system that channels river water through wooden conduits carved out of tree trunks along the contour of the mountains to water their fields. But many of these wooden canals have fallen into disrepair, most of the water leaks out destabilising slopes, destroying homes and little water reaching the fields.&nbsp; The village of Ghodesim is located on a steep slope below one of these water canals, and its 86 households are at risk of landslides because of the leaky irrigation canals. Instead of relocating the village to a safer place, the municipality has replaced the wooden conduits with a more permanent cement canal: providing year-round water to the fields, generating electricity, and reducing the drudgery for women here. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tara-pariyar-s-karnali">Tara Pariyar’s Karnali</a>, Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061609060_05c52c8f87d7bdb8f14b2e4f7625c37601032efc041c6b4ec72421bb56c1f50d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023061609060_05c52c8f87d7bdb8f14b2e4f7625c37601032efc041c6b4ec72421bb56c1f50d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="576" loading="lazy" alt="10-11 NT "> </figure>  “Now everyone has as much water as they need. People have started to plant not just paddy but also vegetables,” says Lakshi Rokaya, a farmer in Ghodesim. Jumla and the adjoining Sinja valley in Nepal’s remote northwestern mountains has the highest-grown rice in the world, a red starchy variety that is extra nutritious. Lakshmi Rokaya had stopped planting wheat and barley because the village’s traditional irrigation canal had gone dry. Now, she points proudly at her terraces ripe with wheat and barley swaying in the afternoon breeze. “For so long, these terraces were barren and dry, just look at them now, they are ready for harvest,” Rokaya says. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water">Women and water</a>, Sonia Awale <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FYSHI0eGNRt4&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> Plentiful water has given the 30-year-old the confidence to plant vegetable cash crops on a larger scale from next year, so she can sell the surplus in the market. The adjoining district of Kalikot in Karnali Province, &nbsp;Shubhakalika Rural Municipality has also built a 658m long irrigation canal that also generates 35KW of electricity, providing households here with power for the first time. “Our whole world now looks brighter,” beams 50-year-old Jokala Shahi of Howdi Gad village in Kalikot. Until two years ago, she had never before seen an electric bulb, and she says the light has made life much easier.&nbsp; The irrigation project was built with Rs2 million from the local government and Rs2.3 million from the UN’s World Food Programme (WFP) and shows how much can be achieved with a relatively small investment just by providing water.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lifting-livelihoods-by-lifting-water">Lifting livelihoods by lifting water</a>, Sabina Devkota  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061609060_9d901ab27b4aabe346736152826685c66090474880af49213e0d3c55d0ce8e34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023061609060_9d901ab27b4aabe346736152826685c66090474880af49213e0d3c55d0ce8e34" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10-11 NT "> </figure>  Batti Chaulagain, 50, of Shubhakalika used to wait for spring rain to plant corn, and monsoons for paddy. Rest of the year, her terraces were empty. Now, even her narrow terraces now grow enough rice to feed her family of four so that her husband no longer has to migrate to India for seasonal work. Every family in this village in Kalikot has the same story, and indeed the gift of water was all it took for many households across Karnali Province to grow enough food, reduce drudgery and empower its women. Chaulagain tells a visiting reporter: “Now, we are not limited to just one crop of paddy a year. I am already thinking of planting seasonal vegetables.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/nepali-women-doubly-burdened-by-climate-change">Nepali women doubly burdened by climate change</a>, Sewa Bhattarai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061609060_001ecb4df47ad0f86c7ad5a14d4d9fe64a89a5f9134a01ce67a63e107150cf4e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2023061609060_001ecb4df47ad0f86c7ad5a14d4d9fe64a89a5f9134a01ce67a63e107150cf4e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="10-11 NT "> <figcaption>Photo: KRISHNA NEUPANE</figcaption> </figure>  Chaulagain’s neighbour Primkala Acharya also used to grow only one crop a year, and it was not enough to feed her family. She says, “We no longer leave our terraces fallow since we have irrigation throughout the year. We plan to grow as much as possible and sell it in the market.” Farmers here used to plant potatoes only in the rainy season when they would have enough water. This year, they were done by early May and are now going to invest in apple orchards.&nbsp; The irrigation canals do not reach all farms, and villagers are now asking for the same facility from their local governments. If there is water, they say they can grow chillies, cucumber, tomato and onion, sell the surplus so they can afford better healthcare and education for children. One of the other visible changes the visitors see in this part of the country is women in construction. Of the 1,600 residents in Shubkalika of Kalikot, 800 are men, half of whom are working in India. Women are therefore seen in the farms, in the households, and even earning income building roads, irrigation canals and bridges. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-of-the-mountains">Women of the mountains</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061609060_aed63bb9eb60e02c96459bfcbdf651a5aa251fea4004fcd2dfa816b70afbcd51.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2023061609060_aed63bb9eb60e02c96459bfcbdf651a5aa251fea4004fcd2dfa816b70afbcd51" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10-11 NT "> </figure>  Many of the irrigation canal construction in Jumla and Kalikot were also led by women. In Jumla’s Ghodesim, the irrigation canal was built by 50 women and 35 men in two months. Seventy villagers, more than half of them women, built the Howdigad irrigation scheme in Kalikot. &nbsp;Women are also the chair and secretaries of irrigation management committees. Rupa Rokaya, 36, of Shubhakalika is among the women who have taken up the construction job. The 0.2 hectares of land is enough to feed the family for only four months. Her father-in-law, husband and son, all went to India in January but are yet to send her any money. In the meantime, she has been taking care of her three young children and mother-in-law with her own earnings.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/water-for-the-ages">Water for the ages</a>, Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230616080640_fcb9f71c85639f633da8c73d31236b676368110dd3ce923e135d843e0c142400.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20230616080640_fcb9f71c85639f633da8c73d31236b676368110dd3ce923e135d843e0c142400" data-rendition-name="original" width="9504" height="6336" loading="lazy" alt="Access to water changes the face of rural Nepal NT"> </figure>  “I earned Rs18,000 a month working on the irrigation project. This money means we can eat rice and dal for a few months,” she says. Gorikala Budha, vice chair of Tila Rural Municipality in Jumla says the irrigation projects are ideal because they generate employment during construction and then provide downstream benefits when finished.&nbsp; “The projects also give confidence and independence for our women,” she says. “Some of them probably for the first time are able to buy what they want for a change, not just what they need. In Kalikot, Jokala Shahi earned Rs30,000 after 40 days of construction work and is delighted that she will buy her food for three months. She has also experienced that having an income increases confidence as well as respect for women in their families and communities. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/solution-to-kathmandu-s-water-crisis">Solution to Kathmandu’s water crisis</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061609060_b1414d06003f68562ac76b5b215ba56df75397fd5fd8ecc0f5f4a6c4bdf8abd2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2023061609060_b1414d06003f68562ac76b5b215ba56df75397fd5fd8ecc0f5f4a6c4bdf8abd2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10-11 NT "> </figure>  She says: “Earlier, we women used to cover our faces, sit in a corner, and did not even dare look at the men. Now we speak up, we do things that only men used to do in the past.” This was always not the case. Before, women were not considered good enough to do construction work, especially the harder bits. But with the men away women have got the opportunity to prove they are strong as the men. In time, the past disparity in wages has also started to disappear with the increasing ability of women in construction. “Our husbands used to get more wages in the past, now the daily wages are the same,” adds Jokala Shahi. Jumla and Kalikot are proof of how modest investment in irrigation, honestly implemented, can make the once chronically food deficit region self-sufficient by giving women more say.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-climate-crisis-is-a-water-crisis-in-the-himalaya">The climate crisis is a water crisis in the Himalaya</a>, Sonia Awale

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Access to water changes the face of rural Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e569c7e80680e04fcadjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Pic: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>In January 2018, Cape Town faced the possibility of executing a ‘Day Zero’ water plan: the city’s residents would have to queue daily for rationed municipal water supply. The reservoirs that served the city were almost empty. Fortunately, rains and lowered water use helped avert the crisis. A year later, Chennai, India’s sixth largest city, came near to Day Zero, too. Last minute rains again eased the emergency.In 2015, Chennai faced devastating floods. How could a region that was submerged four years earlier suffer such a serious water crisis? Despite <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-tarai-learns-from-past-floods/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">floods</a> and droughts becoming a regular feature of South Asia’s climate, none of our governments have learnt lessons to conserve, <a href="#967 July 5dataews.php?id=17425" target="_blank" rel="noopener">harvest and store</a> water. Misuse and inefficiency are high, and precious water is blatantly abused.Urbanisation, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokharas-shrinking-lakes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">encroachment of lakes</a>, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18976#.XR3p0-szaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">wetlands</a>, ponds, and open spaces that served as flood buffers have made inundation worse on one hand, while depleting natural storage systems at a time when water runs out like now. As Chennai expanded with new industries and IT-led growth, the wetlands were converted into housing.In January 1995, 40 hydro-geologists, social scientists, water analysts, economists, political scientists and agriculturalists had gathered in Chennai to discuss the political economy of water in South Asia. The conference, convened by the US Social Science Research Council, had concluded that relatively wealthy middle class urban domestic users appeared to have top priority over water, industries get next priority, irrigation users are next and rural domestic water users and the urban poor are at the bottom of the rung.Twenty-five years later, nothing seems to have changed. In fact, this <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Melamchi-water-not-enough-for-everyone,3899" target="_blank" rel="noopener">hierarchy of access to water</a> is now even more entrenched, and continues to promote the transfer of pumped water from rural to urban areas. Extraction rates <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/recharging-the-mountains-" target="_blank" rel="noopener">exceed recharge and groundwater storage</a> is gradually depleted.Water problems in India, Nepal and the rest of the subcontinent are a result of a complex interaction among urbanization, agriculture, industries, changing water use, and impact of the climate crisis on  precipitation, rising temperature and humidity. By 2030, 40% of South Asia’s population will be living in cities. Urban settlements require more water supply in concentrated areas. Rapid urbanisation and the increases in demand bring new challenges as higher income families use more water to meet sanitary functions producing more waste water.The water challenges in Nepal is no different. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-terrifying-assessment-of-himalayan-melting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Himalayan glaciers and snowpacks are melting faster</a>, the springs in the mid-mountains are going dry at an alarming rate while <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100" target="_blank" rel="noopener">groundwater levels are receding</a> in Nepal’s bhabar, Tarai and across the border in India. Collectively these changes will lower base flows with profound implications for water security across the Indo-Gangetic basin.The current crisis is an outcome of the relentless pursuit of a water development and management model that evolved in an era before the climate emergency. It assumed the unlimited availability of water and focused on supply side solutions, without heeding to demand management and improving water governance. This model has dealt with rainfall, river and groundwater separately, neglecting the water cycle and its intrinsic function in nature. This fragmented approach continues.This water management model is not appropriate to deal with the water emergency. We need to change our approach to adapt to monsoon rains becoming more erratic, as they have this year.  Innovative rainwater harvesting practices, promoting a judicious mix of surface and groundwater sources, and managing increasing water demands is the way to go. The Chennai crisis this year will be replicated in Delhi, Patna and Kathmandu.And it is not the quantity of water that is a problem, the poor quality of available water is an equally serious challenge that needs to be solved with low-cost filtration systems for hundreds of millions of underserved families in the region. Disposal of human waste using treated clean water, in particular, needs to be systematically replaced. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/getting-our-shit-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Untreated sewage pollutes freshwater sources</a> and reduces available supplies. Already dysfunctional water treatment plants significantly push up treatment costs.Solutions must be based on larger societal commitment achieved through regular consultation between individuals, households, the community, the market and the state about water science, supply options, reduced use, and water conservation, and fundamentally re-crafting the institutions that govern and allocate water. Only this can potentially usher in a people-centered water stewardship and management that will include preservation of open spaces, water bodies and aquatic beings.Ajaya Dixit is Executive Director of Kathmandu based ISET-Nepal. His monthly column Climate for Change in Nepali Times deals with the impact of global warming in Nepal and the region.

Where is the monsoon this year?

Sha Bahadur Gurung was 30 years old when he was arrested for participating in a peaceful protest. He died aged 65 last week in Bhutan’s Chamgang Central Prison. He was among 31 prisoners of conscience in Bhutan, many of whom are serving long sentences for opposing the regime’s forcible expulsion of 100,000 of its Lhotsampa people in the early 1990s. ‘Mr Gurung died on 15 December in his prison cell under circumstances that raise serious concerns about custodial negligence and long-term abuse,” said a statement by the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) based in The Hague which demanded an external probe, justice and release of remaining political prisoners. Gurung was from Chirang and was arrested in 1990 while serving in the Royal Bhutan Army, and accused of having sympathies for the Lhotsampa people. He was mostly held at the notorious Rabuna Prison in Wangdi Phodrang District.&nbsp; Gurung’s relatives in the United States said he had endured prolonged physical and psychological abuse during his imprisonment, and repeatedly subjected to torture and inhumane treatment. They believe the decades of ill-treatment had damaged his health, ultimately leading to his death. Earlier this month, Gurung was transferred from Rabuna to Chamgang Central Prison. On 14 December. He had gone to bed after dinner without any visible sign of distress. He was found unconscious in his cell the next morning.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="1103" loading="lazy" alt="Sha Bahadur Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Sha Bahadur Gurung, who died at age 65 in prison in Bhutan after serving 30 years for expressing political opinion.</figcaption> </figure>  He was referred to a hospital in Thimphu, suggesting that he was still alive during transfer to a local health post. But it appears that he had already died before being taken from prison. Gurung’s death occurred two days before Bhutan’s National Day on 17 December, when families, supporters, and human rights advocates worldwide had hoped for the release of political prisoners through a royal amnesty. Instead, the death of one of the longest-serving political prisoners has caused grief and anger in the Bhutanese diaspora.&nbsp; “We strongly condemn the treatment and death of Gurung, a peaceful and justice-loving Bhutanese citizen,” the V statement said. ‘This tragedy raises serious questions about the treatment of political prisoners in Bhutan and stands in stark contrast to the country’s international image under the principles of Gross National Happiness, compassion, and mindfulness.’ Earlier this year, The <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/special-procedures/wg-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention-its-101st-session" target="_blank">United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the Bhutan government was detaining citizens without parole for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/detainees-in-dire-straits-in-bhutan-s-prisons" target="_blank">expressing political opinion</a>. The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in 2023 that there were least 37 <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/13/bhutan-free-long-term-political-prisoners" target="_blank">political prisoners</a> in Bhutan’s jails. Of them, 32 belong to the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa community, which has faced <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2003/06/18/nepal-bhutanese-refugees-rendered-stateless" target="_blank">decades of discrimination and abuse</a> and eviction. Most of them were convicted because of prohibited political activity between 1990 and 2008. One political prisoner, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-country-for-dissent?fbclid=IwAR07lpitMBWAYSkny_3d_smQBlmoxAOQm1OxdNtl-27h8mV0RNO9IxVY2qs" target="_blank">Madhukar Monger</a>, who was released in 2023 after serving 29 years described brutal conditions in <a href="https://www.hrw.org/asia/bhutan" target="_blank">Bhutan</a>'s jails. Political prisoners were not given enough food, and medical care, he said, urging the internaitoonal community to press for the release of prisoners of conscience.&nbsp; In March, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/meenakshi-ganguly" target="_blank">Meenakshi Ganguly</a>, Deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, urged Bhutan’s international partners to call on the Bhutan government to release all remaining political prisoners immediately.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1422" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1420" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

Nepal’s Gurkha soldiers have a well-deserved reputation worldwide for uncommon valour and loyalty. However, what happened in Hawaii in 1986 and the long struggle for fair pay and pension shows that the formidable fighters from Nepal also do not tolerate injustice. The Hong Kong-based 1st Battalion of the 7th Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles was in Hawaii for jungle warfare training exercises at the Joint Pacific Multinational Readiness Center when they beat up their commanding officer, Major Corin Pearce. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Gurkhas said Pearce had insulted them, and 111 soldiers were dismissed. Pearce suffered broken ribs and a head injury, and was himself also discharged. The incident got worldwide publicity and enforced the belief that the Nepalis were not treated fairly in the British Army. It also led some retired soldiers to begin a decades-long struggle for compensation at par with their British peers.&nbsp; Retired British Gurkha soldier Shankar Rai in his book Triumph and Tears revisits the Hawaii incident which he witnessed, and also his experience in the Falkland Islands/Malvinas war in 1982.&nbsp; He has lots of grievances: unequal treatment and injustice from the British Army towards himself and his comrades. This is an indignant and disillusioned account of the good, the bad and the ugly of being a British Gurkha, which he says let him down despite his service and belief in it.&nbsp; The book could also be a cautionary tale of how one person on a power-trip can tarnish two centuries of the shared history of Nepal and the UK, as well as ruin the lives of those involved. It also is proof that loyalty should never be taken for granted. Four years after defeating the Argentinians in the Falklands, several companies and platoons of Gurkha rifles were stationed in Hawaii in 1986 for joint US-UK ‘Exercise Union Pacific’ military exercises. The goal was to ‘perfect the art of marine warfare in collaboration with the US Marine Force’. The rules were that a British Gurkha company commander needed to have the rank of major and pass a Nepali language test. Captain Pearce was the son-in-law of a British Brigadier on extra-regiment employment, and this rule was waived. He was appointed Acting Major. Pearce didn’t bother to learn Nepali language or culture, and from Rai’s account took every chance to belittle and embarrass the Gurkhas as poor, stupid, rude, backward, and lucky to be there. He writes: ‘After Captain Pearce reached Hawaii, he began to project himself as a master and the Gurkhas as servants, to show off to the Americans.’ The author also recounts other slights, such as only receiving a fourth of the rations they were due during hard training, being forced to train even when some of the soldiers had high fever, and claims to have ‘civilised’ the Nepalis.&nbsp; Pearce had been to eastern Nepal before the training and seen the grinding poverty. He kept telling the Gurkhas how lucky they were to be in the job, and that they were making ‘more money than Nepal’s prime minister’. During the final farewell party in Hawaii, Pearce set up tables to form a saluting platform, and asked the Gurkha pipe and drum band to march around him while playing. The enraged soldiers could not take it anymore, and after the party an inebriated group ran Captains Pearce and Chandra Kumar Pradhan out of their tents and beat them up. Both officers broke ribs, and the major needed 15 stitches on his head. ‘This sorry and unseemly episode is considered to have been entirely at odds with the Brigade of Gurkhas’ tradition of loyalty and gallant service in the British Army. It is regarded as an isolated and untypical event, which will not be permitted to detract from the high esteem in which the Brigade is held,’ reads the report of an investigation. Most of the 1/7 company soldiers were dismissed whether they had been involved in the assault or not. The author describes the shame that followed, with dismissed soldiers returning to Nepal with lost face.&nbsp; ‘I burned with humiliation, and life scared me,’ writes the author, whose father told him that he was ashamed to call him his son. ‘Many of my friends’ girlfriends left them and married other people. Rifleman Khem Gurung (21162015) of Itahari committed suicide,’ writes Rai, adding that those dismissed were blacklisted, and could not get other jobs.&nbsp; They tried to pursue legal action against the British Government, but backed down when they could not afford expensive hotshot lawyers, and would not have the money to cover the British government’s legal fees in the likely case of a loss in court. Gurkhas who had served for four years in the UK were allowed to move there, an option that many of those dismissed in the Hawaii incident took, including the author, who now lives in Oxford. Rai pours out his hurt and emotion in the book. Towards the end, he writes: ‘I depend on small jobs for livelihood. In the remaining time, I actively raise the issue of the victims of the Hawaii incident. We are burdened with insults, hatred, and contempt for a lifetime. It was harsher than a court martial, too heavy to bear.’ The is a slim book, and is a quick, engaging read of an incident 30 years ago, and Rai writes with a soldier’s precision. Even though the anger shows even after all these years, there is no over-dramatisation in the narrative.&nbsp; The first part of the book is about sailing across the South Atlantic in the QEII, which had been converted into a troop ship to take the Gurkhas to war. The soldiers from landlocked Nepal were mostly sea-sick, but were happy to get two cans of beer a day. Barclays Bank even had a branch on board. Rai’s descriptions of the friendships he developed in the Company and on the battlefield are poignant. They braved Argentinian bombs, dug trenches and fought through the rain in the Southern Hemisphere winter. There are vignettes of sharing tea with fellow Nepalis, seeing comrades fall, and finding pictures of wives and children in the pockets of dead young Argentine soldiers. Behind the prestige, honour and myths of being a Gurkha soldier, it seems this is just another job with nepotism, horrible bosses and bad pay. But such is the desperation that up to 20,000 young Nepalis still apply for 300 openings in the British Army every year. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Triumph and tears book details NT"> </figure>

Not taking loyalty for granted

After a week of to-and-fro that culminated in all-night bargaining, two populist young figures in Nepali politics agreed at 4AM on Sunday to join forces ahead of elections in March. Rabi Lamichhane of the RSP, who came out of jail a week ago, has forged an alliance with Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah. Both are keen to ride on the GenZ wave that radically changed the direction of Nepal’s politics that has been dominated by three mainstream parties for the past three decades. Under the 7-point deal, Lamichhane will still head the RSP, while Shah has been promised prime ministership if the party wins a majority in the federal elections. Shah will also be the parliamentary party leader. The RSP will keep its name and election symbol. “Agreements must be made not on the basis of what leaders want, but on what the country needs,” Lamichhane wrote on social media announcing the alliance. The RSP chair is said to have put his own prime ministerial aspirations on hold to ensure the Kathmandu Mayor's support for the March polls. This is an alliance of convenience. Lamichhane requires the backing from Shah’s youth voters to face the legacy parties, while the mayor needs a political platform. Ultimately the prospect of leading not just Kathmandu but Nepal itself appears to have been the deciding factor for Balen Shah. The Kathmandu mayor is reportedly keen to contest the election from Jhapa against former prime minister K P Oli in his constituency.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228041212_1b26fd7f14e418a9bdb827a7b733914c08183c36b4a93694fc1aefda9f45d85a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251228041212_1b26fd7f14e418a9bdb827a7b733914c08183c36b4a93694fc1aefda9f45d85a" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Balen-Rabi alliance"> <figcaption>Photo: BALEN SHAH, RABI LAMICHHANE / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  The two have much in common. Lamichhane, a former tv anchor, returned from the United States and launched the RSP as an alternative party four months before elections in 2022. He served as Home Minister twice in Pushpa Kamal Dahal's coalition government before being jailed for defrauding cooperatives depositers. He made a jail break during the September protests, returned to prison voluntarily, and was released on bail last week. Balen Shah stood as an independent candidate for mayor of Kathmandu in local elections in 2022, and was catapulted to victory because of anti-incumbent protest votes among urban youth.&nbsp; Both campaigned on social media, pushing a populist anti-corruption agenda and against the governance failure of the three establishment parties — the same logic that drove the GenZ protests in September that escalated into violence and brought down the UML-NC coalition. Even as government buildings smouldered on 10 September, GenZ members were strongly urging Balen Shah to be the interim prime minister, but when he declined they voted on Discord for former chief justice Sushila Karki.&nbsp; With just over two months to go for elections on 5 March, Prime Minister Karki has been trying desperately to get the mainstream parties on board. She has met twice with the top leaders of the UML, NC and the NCP. All three parties have been dealing with internal power struggles, and the UML appears to be the most reluctant to face elections.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228051212_d42944e014b278d6864270b74f924ac842d6f7a68d5bd6817148d120522ba60b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251228051212_d42944e014b278d6864270b74f924ac842d6f7a68d5bd6817148d120522ba60b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki with political leaders"> <figcaption>Prime Minister Sushila Karki has been meeting with leaders of the mainstream parties to get them on board for the election. Photo: PMO</figcaption> </figure>  The UML’s former prime minister K P Oli has refused summons by the Judicial Inquiry Commission charged with investigating the massacre of protesters on 8 September and the arson and vandalism the next day. Then home minister Ramesh Lekhak is scheduled to give his deposition to the Commission this week. The legacy parties appear to be taking the threat from the Rabi-Balen partnership strongly, and have been trying to forge an electoral alliance so they do not compete against each other.&nbsp; They are relying on traditional vote banks among the rural electorate, and calculate that alternative forces will cancel themselves out. They could also be hoping that Balen Shah’s erratic behaviour and Rabi Lamichhane’s prison conviction will put voters off. A total of 837,094 first-time voters have been registered in Nepal ahead of the elections.&nbsp; The Kathmandu mayor is an engineer and rap artist, and had till now been reclusive, preferring to post on social media rather than face the press. His late-night online posts have been impulsive: like the one urging that Singha Darbar be burnt down, or another one recently in which he used the f-word against the US, China, India and the mainstream parties. He later deleted both posts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228041212_a2f87881e36fb40b82bf77e1b07003aaf36b91e2a9eb5da096f1e562654c31e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251228041212_a2f87881e36fb40b82bf77e1b07003aaf36b91e2a9eb5da096f1e562654c31e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1112" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Rabi agreement NT"> <figcaption>The seven-point agreement between Shah and Lamichhane. </figcaption> </figure>  Lamichane and Shah had also been negotiating with Energy Minister Kulman Ghising’s newly-forced Ujyalo Nepal Party, but the bargaining did not go well because Ghising refused to fight elections under the RSP banner. If the three had been successful in coming together, it would have been a formidable alliance. There are misgivings about the RSP-Balen Shah deal, even among some GenZ who see the two prominent men dividing up the power structure as just the kind of political culture they wanted to reform. Many are already predicting exactly the kind of clash of egos between the two alpha males that characterised Nepali politics since the restoration of democracy in 1990. In the coming days, as with most political change in Nepal, there will be much speculation about the geopolitics behind the Rabi-Balen deal. Balen Shah’s angry post against India-US-China as well as his past nationalistic pronouncements on Nepal’s territorial dispute with India over Kalapani will be recalled, while Beijing has misgivings about the antecedents of some GenZ figures. Dharan-mayor Harka Sampang, who has also formed his own political party, has already pronounced the Rabi-Balen deal as being “foreign backed”.

Old vs New in Nepal in 2026

This is the 77th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I was in Grade 3 when my father left for Saudi Arabia. Letters he sent occasionally contained photos. We had to get used to matching the person in the photos with him when he came home. Over two decades later, I left behind my son a day after he was born to go to Korea.&nbsp; He was five when I returned, and he just could not believe I was the same person he spoke on video calls. To convince him that it was indeed me, I had to call him on video from the other room.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Technology, it turns out, is no replacement to proximity and physical presence.&nbsp; When my father was in Saudi Arabia, my mother died. My father could not return to Nepal immediately, and my grandmother took in my two sisters and me.&nbsp; My studies took a hit. I started working in a shoe shop, and earned Rs2,100 a month. I wanted to start a shoe shop with support from my father when he returned. He did not, and neither did my other relatives. Perhaps they doubted my business sense. Or they had other priorities.&nbsp; Whatever it was, this feeling of not having someone to back me up hit me deeply but give me confidence. Without alternatives, I decided to prepare to migrate to Korea. I studied for the language exam and was among the first cohort under the G2G scheme. When I was finally matched with a Korean employer, I could not be happier.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="823" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Not having received any support from those around me, the Korean offer made me feel like I had won in life. My grandmother was happy because it would increase family income. She had three additional mouths to feed, and we were quickly growing up. She worried about getting my sisters married. My first stint in Korea, however, was not what I expected. I had to change jobs multiple times, either because the company I worked for was unable to pay me, there was no work, or I had an accident. The odds just were not in my favour. The global financial crisis had taken a toll on the economy.&nbsp; Even so, I managed to help pay for my sisters' weddings and had modest savings. But there was not much to show for it compared to my peers. Never again, I thought, as I said goodbye to Korea.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="1279" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I came home and got married. I started a mobile repair shop. But it did not work out well either, and I was soon headed back to Korea despite my misgivings. I left a day after my son was born, and this time I was determined to make it work in Korea. I was placed in a company that made golf balls. It paid well, but the job was just for money, I needed to do something more with my future that would help me stand on my own feet once I was back in Nepal. I was intrigued by the three-in-one instant coffee sachets in Korea that had coffee, milk and sugar. Back home in our village in Kaski, our cooperative grew coffee that either went to waste or fetched very low prices. My sisters and I used to pick the sweet and tasty coffee cherries.&nbsp; I saw a great business prospect in turning the beans into coffee sachets, and started exploring this. That was my mission: to make instant coffee packets widely available in Nepal. It was just a matter of understanding the process so I went to a migrant resource centre in Korea to inquire about where I could learn this.&nbsp; I was advised to take barista classes, and I found out that sachet coffee is actually not healthy and I should instead learn about fresh brewed coffee. That seemed even more exciting. How coffee beans could be ground and sold for over Rs450 in Korean cafes that people waited in line for bemused me. During my free time, I spent all my energy learning about coffee. I took training in barista, coffee sensory, machine repair and roasting. I had to rely on the generosity of Koreans who were willing to take a chance on me as I had different constraints such as lack of network, a busy work schedule at my regular job but even then, people offered to help.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee NT"> </figure>  I was so obsessed that whenever I spent time on leisure activities during days off, I felt guilty. My golf ball job was just for income, I had to invest in my real post-Korea life. Balancing work and learning everything about coffee was not easy. Not only did I pay for some of the lessons, I even skipped overtime hours for them. But this was for my future. I must have consulted over a dozen coffee experts in Korea to share their experience and connect me to people. I could not afford to be shy about asking strangers for help. When the pandemic hit, we were granted a one-year visa extension, and I took it as an opportunity to invest in myself. I had seen great business prospects for coffee machine repair service in Pokhara because people had to rely on Kathmandu. But to learn machine repair and maintenance, I had to spend more time and weekend classes were not going to be sufficient.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1138" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I moved to a training company and worked just enough to maintain my legal status. I did not take overtime shifts. Even my roommates barely saw me because I used to come home long after our duty hours from my coffee training. I also needed actual job experience so I asked my trainer to let me shadow him at work.&nbsp; The on-the-job exposure to repair and maintenance work gave me more confidence and expertise. When I returned to Nepal, I came home with a suitcase full of coffee machine parts. I have started a coffee shop called Jumli, provide machine repair services and have also started growing my own coffee. The idea is to be a one stop shop for all players in the coffee industry, whether it is farmers or coffee shop owners who need Nepal-grown coffee or machine repair services or coffee lovers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086" data-rendition-name="original" width="1321" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  It is not always easy being an entrepreneur in Nepal. Sometimes, when I am on shaky ground, I close my eyes and talk to my mother in my head for clarity. Some of these conversations are replays of the things she told me when I was growing up. I didn’t take them seriously then, but now they offer important nuggets of wisdom about life, society, and how to navigate difficult times. I have a lot of hope for the future. I am now laying the groundwork to one day export Nepal’s specialty coffee to the international market, meeting global standards of quality. Programs like the Returnee Innovators for Nepal (RIN) help in equipping you with the skills to better pitch your business and give exposure and networks. Even now, I rely on my trainer in Korea for guidance or to access spare parts that are not available in Nepal. I have come a long way from the day I cluelessly chose ‘American-O’ coffee because it was the easiest drink to pronounce in the menu. I never thought I would be making a living from coffee back home in Nepal one day.&nbsp;

access-to-water

Access to water changes the face of rural Nepal

Where is the monsoon this year?

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

Not taking loyalty for granted

Old vs New in Nepal in 2026

From ‘American-O’ to Jumli