Formal education in schools and universities became available to ordinary Nepalis only 70 years ago. But even then women were not encouraged to get an education.&nbsp; The 1971 Education Plan laid out a strategy to raise literacy levels, and encouraged girls’ enrollment in schools. Over the decades, female teachers were added to school faculties, girls were given scholarships and free basic education and women’s rights were enshrined in the Constitution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> <figcaption>ALL PHOTOS: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  The progress is undeniable: Nepal now boasts near-equal enrollment rates for both boys and girls at primary level. However, dropout rates for young women is still high in secondary and higher education. The female literacy rate is 69.4% compared to 83.6% for males. Socio-cultural norms, poverty, child marriage and lack of proper sanitation facilities in schools are factors hindering equal access to education.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  But in a case of better late than never, older women who were denied education when young are enrolling in formal education. “We have studied that men and women are wheels of the same chariot. How can the chariot move forward when one wheel is well oiled and the other is not,” asks Anjana Maharjan, Principal of Shradha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu that offers classes from Grade 1 through 10 for girls 12 years and above.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Age no bar"> </figure>  “When a man is educated, the house prospers, whereas when a woman is educated, the family prospers. When a family is capable, the village becomes capable. When a village becomes capable, the country develops,” she adds. But the road back to the classroom is not always smooth. Household chores for women often leave little time for studies. The social stigma of starting school later in life or the fear of being judged can be deterrents for some. Many lack of support from their families, and have to lie about going to school.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="5719" height="3812" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  “There are students here who come here while telling their family that they are going to work,” says Prabha Chalise, Principal at Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato that provides classes for young women 14 years and older.&nbsp; Some women stay on after class to finish their assignments and leave their books in school so that no one back home finds out.&nbsp; “Society and family should encourage women, they must inspire them and push them to get an education, not judge them for it,” says Chalise. Meet some of the women achieving their lifelong dream of attending school: Indra Kumari Ale, 71  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738" data-rendition-name="original" width="3840" height="2416" loading="lazy" alt="Indra Kumari Ale"> </figure>  Every morning, Indra Kumari Ale takes a half an hour walk from her home in Kusunti to Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato, carrying a blue and purple backpack. Once inside the brown gates, she makes her way to the second floor and takes her place inside the classroom. Growing up in Syangja, Ale got basic education, but her father thought girls did not need education and married her off at the age of 18. Her husband was in the Indian army, and Ale took care of her in-laws while he was away serving.&nbsp; For 25 years, the two maintained a long-distance relationship and her husband would only be home during holidays. Because she herself could not go to school, Ale made sure all her children did. Her two older daughters were married off after completing high school, and her youngest daughter has completed medical school. &nbsp;&nbsp; During all the time she was home looking after the family, Ale yearned to go to school but that dream never materialised until 2015 when her youngest daughter, convinced her to join the school for women. &nbsp; She started in Grade 1, and excelled in studies, got the highest scores in class skipped grades. “It was easy in the lower classes, even till class 7/8, but it is more difficult now more so because of my age, my eyes and ears have started to fail,” she says.&nbsp; Last year, Ale sat for her SEE exams, which she says was “fun”, giving the test with other students who were her grandchildren’s age.&nbsp; “The students as well as the teachers there showed me love and respect as I was sitting for exams at my age. I did not think I would pass, but I did,” she says.&nbsp; Until then not many outside Ale’s family knew she was going to school. When the results were announced, people from her locality came to know that she had passed the SEE exams, and they came together to honour her for her achievement.&nbsp; Now in Grade 11, she is proud of her decision to go to school. “In the past when my neighbours asked where I was going carrying a backpack, I would say I’m going for a walk,” says Ale. “These days everyone in my community knows I go to school and they love and respect me for continuing my education.” Education has not only given Ale recognition in her family and society but has also helped her become more independent. “From reading signboards to hailing buses, I can do all that by myself now,” she says. “Now, I understand English even if I can’t speak it properly yet, I did not think I’d be able to do all this at this age.” Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885" data-rendition-name="original" width="5880" height="3892" loading="lazy" alt="Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar"> <figcaption>Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55</figcaption> </figure>  In the mountains of Palpa, Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar was known for her dulcet voice and an interest in singing. Villagers would invite her to perform in rodhi, dohori and other programs. She happily obliged. Over the years, she published two albums and played small roles in Nepali tele serials but she was troubled by the fact that she did not know how to read or write. She came to Kathmandu 25 years ago, where her husband landed a job. She also looked for jobs in offices, but they said the most she was capable of was cleaning and mopping floors.&nbsp; “I faced a lot of humiliation because I could not read or write,” recalls Magar. Once, while auditioning for a role in a Nepali movie, she was handed her lines. A younger woman read them out for her so she could memorise them, but not before remarking, “Why would a person who cannot even read the lines apply?” &nbsp; She was embarrassed, and the comment damaged her confidence. She fumbled through the audition and was not surprised when she did not get the role. “Even when singing, I kept thinking that if I knew how to read, I wouldn’t have to struggle to memorise all the words, I could even write my own songs,” says Magar. “All of these life experiences taught me the importance of education.” Magar always wanted to study but growing up she never had the chance to because “education was never a priority in the village” and for her parents. Once she was married, she was too busy taking care of the household.&nbsp; Magar had given up on ever learning to read when she learnt of Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu, and made up her mind to enroll. Her husband and sons supported her decision, and she got enrolled in Grade 1.&nbsp; “I did not feel embarrassed to study with students who were younger than me, plus there were others who were similar to me in age and older learning their alphabets too,” she says.&nbsp; For nearly two years, she has been taking care of household chores and rushing to school every morning. &nbsp;This year she had to take two months off from school when her daughter-in-law gave birth but is now back in class. Now in Grade 2, Magar diligently attends school from 11am to 3pm every weekday and says she can now confidently sign her name in both English and Nepali, and use her mobile phone. She wants to study as long as she is healthy and can move around. “I am happy that I get to study at this age,” says Magar. “Women should study so that they can be financially and socially independent. When they are educated they will know the ways of the world, they won't get cheated, they can maintain their privacy and more importantly they can voice their opinion.” Shobha Thapa, 60  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553" data-rendition-name="original" width="4627" height="3084" loading="lazy" alt="Shobha Thapa"> <figcaption>Shobha Thapa, 60</figcaption> </figure>  When she was young, Shobha Thapa learned to recognise the Nepali alphabets by peeking and eavesdropping on her siblings' lessons. She never got to go to school, and once married got too busy raising children. But she made sure her children would get the best education and enrolled them in English medium schools. “The teachers would talk to me in English,” recalls Thapa. “I couldn’t understand anything but I was too embarrassed to admit it or ask what they meant.” At home, she would often feel excluded when people said she would not understand the issue because she was uneducated. “There are simply too many humiliations for me to recount now. But what they all taught me was that education is important,” says Thapa. She could not muster up the courage to tell her husband about her desire to go to school. But one day he himself brought home a newspaper featuring a story of Prerana Mahila Secondary School. She told him she wanted to enroll, and he agreed.&nbsp; Her youngest son had just come home after graduating from an engineering college, so she asked him to take her to the school for admissions. Thapa finally started school at age 50.&nbsp; “I cannot describe the feeling of happiness on that first day,” says Thapa who is now in Grade 11. “I felt that I had already achieved a lot.” Her zeal was so strong she would have her books open when she was cooking or doing laundry.&nbsp; Thapa was the top performing student till the pandemic hit. “I did not know how to use a laptop, but managed to take online classes,” says Thapa who was much happier when physical classes resumed. She says she still needs to work on her English.&nbsp; After passing her SEE exams last year, she has felt a shift in people’s attitude towards her. “People who called me hariyo kakro (why eat green cucumbers when it’s time to die) now show respect and ask me for help,” she says.&nbsp; Thapa wants to continue in her path and is proud of what she has achieved. She doesn’t hesitate to tell everyone that she is in school or encourage other women to start studying. She adds, “Education opens up the world. It is what makes us human beings and it is especially important for women because she needs to be strong to face the world.” Surya Kumari Shrestha, 67  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447" data-rendition-name="original" width="4344" height="2866" loading="lazy" alt="Surya Kumari Shrestha"> </figure>  As a child, Surya Kumari Shrestha never went to school even though there was one in her village. She did attend kindergarten, writing on slates with chalk. But she never continued in school. Later when her contemporaries went on to hold jobs and some worked as teachers, she regretted not studying, and spent most of her life thinking ‘what if’. 20 years ago, she moved to Kathmandu. In her new home, there was a telephone that her family members used often. “Everyone dialed different numbers to talk to different people and I wondered how they did that,” remembers Shrestha. “I had no idea how it worked.” Today, she comfortably uses her mobile and talks to her daughters and video calls her son in Japan. “I dial the numbers myself and call whoever I want to call,” she says. “Maybe I cannot do everything, but I can do more now than when I did not go to school.” A student of Grade 8 at Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School, for Shrestha the decision to join the school was not just to study but also for companionship.&nbsp; With her son abroad and her daughters married, Shrestha lives alone with her dog Pinki. “If I don’t come to school, I don’t have anyone to talk to. Here I have friends and I get to learn new things,” she says.&nbsp; Her children, relatives and neighbours all know that she is attending school and support her decision. On days when she is at home, her neighbours ask why she is missing class.&nbsp; Education has given her the confidence to face the world as a single woman. Recently when she was asked for her thumbprints on a document, she replied that she could sign her own name.&nbsp; Says Shrestha, “I want to sit for SEE exams and then go to college. Education has brought about many positive changes in my life.” Nirmala Chhetri, 56  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Nirmala Chhetri"> <figcaption>Nirmala Chhetri, 56</figcaption> </figure>  Nirmala Chhetri is a social activist and an entrepreneur. Over the years, she worked at various hotels, opened and operated a women’s cooperative, ran her own tailoring business and is now with the Godavari Chamber of Commerce and Industry.&nbsp; On the outside, her life looked good, but Chhetri secretly yearned to continue her education. After her high school exams, she had learned to type. Her accuracy and speed brought in an offer for a government job, but she had to turn it because her family’s disapproval.&nbsp; In 1985, she passed her SLC exams and joined Namuna Machhindra College for her IA, but she had to put her studies on hold and get married. Her home life took precedence as she brought up her children. Because she could not study to her heart’s content, she made sure all three of her children, especially her daughter went to school. Two of her children are now in Australia and her son works with Nepal Airlines. “I always wanted to continue my studies,” says Chhetri. “But when I joined the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, the men there were much more educated than me. This made me feel a bit inferior, but it also made me more determined.”&nbsp; She joined Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Grade 11 and plans to continue on to do a bachelor’s in law.&nbsp; “I feel happy. I feel proud of myself and have regained my confidence,” says Chhetri. “I now think I can do much more in life.” Chhetri's family is fully supportive, and with her children all grown up, she feels this is the time to invest in her own personal growth. &nbsp; “We women have reached this point by sacrificing a lot, so our family and children had opportunities,” says Chhetri. “Why should we give up opportunities at this point in our lives too? Women are now free, we should make the most of it.”

Sahina Shrestha

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Age no bar to go to school

<figure><img width="624" height="468" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a59c7e80680e0ac77bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>China's Nepali students still stuck in Kathmandu stage a demonstration requesting for their return to their universities. </figcaption></figure>Nepali students in Chinese universities who had come home for holidays during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/learning-during-the-pandemic-in-nepal/">pandemic</a> have been stuck for two years, unable to return and complete their degrees. Since China formally closed its doors for international students in February 2020, those who had come to Nepal for the winter break in December 2019 and the initial days of the pandemic are still stranded in Kathmandu. Their hopes of completing their studies and career prospects are in limbo.  “My gap year is coming to an end but I’m confused about what steps to take next, I haven’t received any guidelines on conducting medical internships in Nepal,” says Praveer Raj Singh, a medical student at Peking University who has been stuck in Nepal for nearly two years.Away from universities and having to attend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lockdown-gives-distance-learning-a-boost-in-nepal/">online classes</a> has left Nepali students deeply anxious and desperate, prompting some of them to join WeChat groups like ‘Nepal-China Returning Students’ to organise discussions and initiating petitions to apply pressure on the governments of both Nepal and China as well as their universities. <figure><img width="624" height="351" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a79c7e80680e0ac77cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Nepali medical students studying at Chinese universities stage a protest.</figcaption></figure>Across these WeChat groups, there are new petitions every few days asking students for personal information, which is redundant as every international student studying in China is already required to complete their registration procedure with their details.Since the beginning of the pandemic, China has introduced strict rules for foreign arrivals. Although the novel coronavirus appears to have started here, China has been more successful than most countries in bringing the pandemic under control.The Chinese Communist Party, which recently celebrated its 100th anniversary, does not want to jeopardise its domestic stability ahead of the 2022 Winter Olympics. Hence, China is unlikely to allow international students to return anytime soon, notwithstanding protests or petitions.A more effective approach would be for official in Kathmandu to talk to their Chinese counterparts at a government-to-government level, since that fits in better with China’s top-down approach to doing things.Furthermore, due to the existing language barrier and China’s restrictive internet policies like ‘The Great Firewall’, concerns that are primarily raised in English through platforms like Twitter and Instagram have little to no reach in China. Students have managed to raise awareness, but among themselves and not on the right platforms.  Articles written in Mandarin by Chinese authors about the situation of international students do not have enough reach either, since they have mostly been from personal WeChat blogs. Mainstream Chinese media on the other hand has not touched the issue of international students, and there has been no discussion on popular interactive social media platforms like Weibo, which has over 500 million active users. Similarly, the complaints and petitions brought up by students are mostly conveyed in English or Nepali, which are not effective with a Chinese audience. Student protest is a widely used tool to pressure the authorities and fulfil demands for change in Nepali colleges and universities. That process will not work in China, or with Chinese universities. The petitions and protests may be heard, but do not guarantee sufficient pressure for those in decision-making positions. In fact, students who once believed in protests have since lost hope. An informal survey on WeChat groups by over 100 Nepali students waiting to go back to universities revealed that the majority no longer believe it is a route that can help them return to China. <figure><img width="542" height="413" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a99c7e80680e0ac77djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>“Nepali Students in China” Twitter account campaigning to return Nepali students back to China</figcaption></figure><a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&amp;rct=j&amp;q=&amp;esrc=s&amp;source=web&amp;cd=&amp;cad=rja&amp;uact=8&amp;ved=2ahUKEwi4lfifvqvzAhWi83MBHaD0AtsQFnoECAwQAQ&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fenglish.khabarhub.com%2F2021%2F30%2F200079%2F&amp;usg=AOvVaw0XGPpCjNLLSeJI0wihXTdA">Nepali political leaders and the Nepal embassy in China also have been raising the issue with the Chinese authorities</a>, but so far to no avail. Most international students in China do not seem concerned about classmates from other nationalities not returning, and do not raise the issue with their respective universities.  Students who remained in China in 2019 feel lucky to not have rushed back home during the peak of the pandemic. One of them is Aayush Maskey, an undergraduate student of Xidian University in Xi’an.   “There are several opportunities for international students who stayed on  campus, the universities sponsored several city tours,” says Maskey, whose classes are still mostly online but he has a better prospect of jobs and internship opportunities. He is now the face for his university’s promotional campaigns, and has benefited from in-person interactions.  China will eventually let international students in, but only when its government wants to. Until then, the only thing the students can do as what they have been doing since the beginning of the pandemic: wait for further notice. Suniva Chitrakar is an undergraduate student majoring in International Political Economy at Peking University. Aneka R Rajbhandari is pursuing her Master’s degree in Chinese Politics from the Silk Road School, Renmin University.

China’s Nepali students in limbo

<figure><img width="800" height="545" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba84c9c7e80680e0737d0jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Chun Kumari Chaudari, at age 43, giving her high school exam in Kailali last year. The former kamlari educated herself after becoming a member of the Far-Western Provincial Assembly.</figcaption></figure>For an illiterate woman from a destitute family of former bonded labourers, Chun Kumari Chaudhari could not have been more removed from the power centres of Nepali politics. She comes from a family of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFCCNx8n1fnUP8Ugm1-ZG2ejwhopQ">kamaiya</a> in western Nepal, who <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11107" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D11107&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFCi9UB_Y5sA-JzQss0k-3ZXkZqiQ">till 20 years ago</a> used to be bonded to landlords through a hereditary system of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19418#.X0sT5y0w0Wo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D19418%23.X0sT5y0w0Wo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHjVBjNcrEp9Pxg87caPM6JJAJX0g">indentured labour</a>. Chun Kumari spent her childhood working in her landlord’s house as a semi-slave kamlari, and at 15 was married off. She never went to school, and in her husband’s home she was too weighed down with household chores to learn to read and write. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">She has a dream</a>, Summan Humagain But earlier this month, at the age of 43, Chun Kumari got word that she had passed her SEE high school examination with a GPA of 2.25. She now plans to juggle her law-making duties at the provincial legislature by enrolling in political science at college.  “There is a lot of work still left to do in our country,” says Chun Kumari, “nothing can stop me now.”  It is this extraordinary confidence and unfailing grit that has brought Chun Kumari so far. She started out as a member of a local community forest user group in Kailali, and rose up the ranks to become a member of the Far-Western Provincial Assembly. She then educated herself, and is determined to fight <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHngGlkHLptbaUQb-V01SEfTy-k_A">socio-economic disparity</a> and societal oppression. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepals-girls-may-drop-out-of-school/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepals-girls-may-drop-out-of-school/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHYi5sYC5MC5YF0T7PO47uX6rDy4g">Half of Nepal's girls may drop out of school</a>, Namrata Sharma “Because of my poverty and society’s restrictions on females, I never got to go to school,” she recalls. “Later on, I was often humiliated because of my illiteracy.”In 2018, when she became a member of the Far-Western Provincial Assembly, she had to face much ridicule from party co-workers for being illiterate. Chun Kumari says: “I decided then and there to turn my shame into determination and found the courage to join a school.”So in 2018, inspired by another <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-kamlari-to-mp/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-kamlari-to-mp/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHMQmpqVav3qX_P8q-cN4y_BmQl4Q">former kamlari Shanta Chaudhary</a> who was elected to the Constituent Assembly seven year ago, Chun Kumari joined Grade 8 of Bhageswor School.She did not tell her husband or children, thinking they would not approve. A week after her classes started her husband found out, but luckily he was supportive.  <figure><img width="309" height="416" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba84e9c7e80680e0737d1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In class, Chun Kumari was aware of her age difference with other students. “It was incredibly uncomfortable at first. I couldn’t even bring myself to get up and use the washroom. I became ill because of the stress. But slowly, I made friends among my classmates who were much younger than even my own children,” she says. Chun Kumari’s son Dipak is 25, has graduated in science from college, and is now working at the Shuklaphanta National Park.Chun Kumari Chaudhari’s political life began in 1994, much before she taught herself to read and write. She started out as a member of the local community forest user’s group and worked her way up to be secretary and chair. She then was elected vice president of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taking-away-forests-from-communities/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taking-away-forests-from-communities/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH93zYT5xGYNz83BRaqezYcwlV8WA">the Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN).</a>She was affiliated with the UML party, and in 2017 was elected to be a member of the provincial assembly. She says, “My role now is to change society, so that girls are not discriminated against, have better opportunities, and do not have to go through what I did.”

Nepali politician educates herself at age 43

With Saturday's deadline on Malaysia’s announcement of new criteria for selecting private recruiting agencies for migrant workers having lapsed, Nepal and Bangladesh have rejected the conditions.
The Malaysian move three weeks ago came in the aftermath of deadly GenZ riots in September, when Nepal’s interim government does not have designated heads in the Foreign Ministry and the Labour Ministry.
Interim Prime Minister Sushila Karki instructed the Labour Ministry to examine the implications of the standards and recommend appropriate steps to address them, but it has said it cannot send Nepali workers to Malaysia based on those criteria.
“In line with Nepal’s foreign employment policy and regulations, we are currently unable to accept or implement the proposed criteria,” says Pitambar Ghimire, spokesperson at the Ministry of Labor, Employment and Social Security in Kathmandu.
In response to the government’s request for their opinion on the Malaysian stipulation, the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA) has also flatly rejected the criteria, saying it could create a harmful syndicate and restrict fair competition, violate Nepal’s Constitution and laws, and increase recruitment fees that workers must pay.
On 25 October, the Malaysian Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent letters to the governments of Nepal, Bangladesh, Burma, Pakistan and India with 10 criteria meant to ‘rationalise the number of licensed private recruitment agencies permitted to facilitate recruitment and placement of workers to Malaysia’.
The proposed criteria include: at least five years of operating experience, deployment of 3,000 workers in the past three years of operation, experience sending workers to at least three countries, valid licenses and good conduct certificates, five employer testimonials, operating their own training and accommodation centres, and even a requirement for the staffing agency to have a 10,000 sq m office maintained for three years.
“We have communicated our views to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and have proposed discussing various labour related matters with our Malaysian counterparts diplomatically through bilateral dialogue and negotiations including renewal of the Nepal-Malaysia labour agreement,” Pitamber Ghimire said.
NAFEA has urged the government to prevent this measure from moving forward using diplomatic channels, and has held &nbsp;several gatherings and press conferences opposing the proposal since the Malaysian letter was received three weeks ago.
“We have taken commitment letters from members that they will not be engaged in activities related to the syndicate,” said Sujit Shrestha of NAFEA. “And if they break the commitment, they will face consequences including the revocation of their NAFEA membership. These letters also send a strong message to the government that this is irrevocably and collectively rejected by the industry.”
Bangladesh has also not accepted the proposal despite the 15 November deadline to send a list of recruiters that meet the criteria. That in itself would have been an impossible task to complete to begin with even if the government had accepted the proposal.&nbsp;
According to media reports, Bangladesh has sent a letter to the Malaysian government requesting that three of the proposed criteria be relaxed. This includes flexibility regarding the requirements for a 10,000 sq ft office, a dedicated training center, and the condition of having deployed 3,000 workers in the last five years. Despite the official request to Malaysian authorities, the Bangladeshi Government has also been collecting applications from recruiters who meet Malaysia’s proposed criteria, raising confusions about the contradictory stance.&nbsp;
Just like NAFEA, the recruitment association in Bangladesh, the Bangladesh Association of International Recruiting Agencies (BAIRA) has also outright rejected the proposal including in a letter to the Bangladeshi government, calling the criteria ‘unprecedented and exclusionary, unreasonable, discriminatory and syndicate-driven &nbsp;that would effectively disqualify 99% of legitimate agencies from participation’.&nbsp;
Now that the ball is back in Malaysia’s court and the proposal has not gained much support from two of the major origin countries, it will be interesting to see how they respond.

Nepal, Bangladesh reject Malaysian conditions

New and old, businessmen and former diplomats, engineers and academics — they have all been trooping to the Election Commission to register political parties ahead of the Sunday deadline.
Till press time Thursday, five new parties had been registered and 21 new parties were in the process of applying. Behind the scenes, new parties are head-hunting, well-known figures are shopping for parties to join, while older parties are splitting or uniting to form new united parties.
“It is reason for optimism that people are enthused to form new parties,” notes political analyst Indra Adhikari. But, she adds, this does not mean that despite the celebrity status they will win votes and succeed in politics.
The outlier in all this are the Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, which are still licking the wounds after being swept out of power by the GenZ protests in September. Neither are too keen on elections because of the prospect of losing badly.
Former prime minister K P Oli is the most recalcitrant, and seems to want to scuttle elections so Parliament will be reinstated. After announcing that he was stepping down, the NC’s Sher Bahadur Deuba has had a change of heart in Singapore and is gunning to restore Parliament.
Neither party and their leaders have shown any remorse for the 8 September massacre, or understood the outrage on the streets against their decades-long incompetence and corruption. &nbsp;
Among those registering parties are various GenZ youth groups and family members of those killed during the September protests. Notable among the new parties certified this week was Gatishil Loktantrik Party (गतिलो) backed by Buddha Air founder Birendra Basnet and led by sociologist Dinesh Prasai. Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang’s Shram Sanskriti Party is also registered.
Energy and Infrastructure Minister in the interim government Kulman Ghising has backed the Ujyalo Nepal with former secretary Anup Kumar Upadhyaya as its chair. Ghising has been playing coy about his political ambitions, and is planning to resign from his cabinet post before elections.&nbsp;
Ghising had been talking to Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP about joining, but that negotiation failed. Former RSP lawmaker Sumana Shrestha was supposed to join Ghising, but pulled out following Ghising’s reluctance to resign from government.
Ghising has much public support because he is credited with ending power cuts as head of the Nepal Electricity Authority, but is now getting flak for being unwilling to give up his ministerial portfolios while still wanting to contest elections. &nbsp;
Ujyalo has hit other snags. GenZ activist Tashi Lhazom, who was considered for a Cabinet position last month but was dropped by Prime Minister Sushila Karki, has said she is not in Ujyalo despite being listed as a Central Committee member. Another member has said that he will not be a part of Ujyalo due its “a lack of political culture”.
Even though Nepalis from across backgrounds and professions are eager to participate in the country’s new political landscape, there are doubts about the structure of their parties, ideology and electoral platforms.&nbsp;
Hurriedly set up parties without a shared philosophy have less chance of political influence and longevity. For example, the RSP was formed just months before the 2022 polls to become the fourth-largest party in Parliament, has lost its momentum, and its leader is in jail.
“Parties like the RSP, which did some positive work after being elected, have still not been able to establish a clear ideological roadmap or organisational structure,” Adhikari says. &nbsp;“It is easy to form parties, the real work goes into building an institution, which is the hard part”
Meanwhile, despite expectations of increased and inclusive youth participation not just at the polling booths but also on the ballot, only a few GenZ-led parties are applying at the Election Commission. They include the Rastriya Pariwartan Party and the Rastriya GenZ Party Nepal. Most other parties are led by men in their 40s, even in their 70s.&nbsp;
Analysts note that despite hopes of young blood in politics, Nepalis are still inclined to trust those with experience, as evidenced by GenZ’s choice of Sushila Karki to succeed KP Oli as Prime Minister after the September protests.&nbsp;
“So it will be difficult for young Nepalis without prior political experience to lead parties and it will be even more difficult for them to cultivate enough public trust to get votes,” says Adhikari.&nbsp;
Then there are the old political players, who have been breaking up and making up new alliances. Resham Chaudhary quit his Nagarik Unmukti Party and registered a new one.
Last week, Puspha Kamal Dahal’s Maoist Centre, and Madhav Kumar Nepal’s Unified Socialists merged along with smaller leftist parties to form the Nepali Communist Party (NCP). Disgruntled former UML members like Bhim Rawal have also joined the NCP. On the other hand, Janardan Sharma has fallen out with Dahal and is going his own way.&nbsp;
Even though the NC, UML and NCP show little sign that they have learnt their lesson and will be turning a new leaf, they still have the party organisation and vote banks to fall back on at election time in the runup to 5 March. &nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “At the end of the day, Nepali society remains hyper-partisan. And although the newly-formed parties and their popular candidates may give older leaders a run for their money, established parties will still benefit from their solid vote base.”

Party Time

The very first frame in The Lama’s Son starts with a vision of Shangrila and the quest of a mythical utopia in the Himalaya when the rest of the world is crumbling away. It is also the personal search of filmmaker Kesang Tseten, but what he finds there are adherents of the Bon Po faith clinging to the last remnants of a culture as it erodes away like the sandstone cliffs of Mustang. “It was while editing the documentary that the story became distilled: how does what we see in the high Himalaya relate to the notion of the Shangrila idyll that especially the West ascribed to them,” asked Tseten during a recent trip to Kathmandu from Berne where he now lives. He continued: “Often and perhaps rightly criticised as an orientalist construct, I wondered if there was any basis at all to the Shangrila notion, and I hung the film on that idea.”&nbsp; Tseten takes us to the vast vistas of Mustang and Dolpo, a landscape of his Tibetan ancestors. This is as much an intimate documentation of families on Nepal’s Himalayan rimland torn between remoteness and globalness as it is about Tseten’s own quest for rootedness.&nbsp; We start from Lubra, a 3,000m village in Mustang the 15 households of which follow the Bon faith. Lama Tsultrim is from a 900-year-old lineage of the animist faith and an exponent of the tradition that is slowly being subsumed first by Buddhism and now modernism. For Tseten, the material is familiar, and not at all exotic as it is for non-Nepalis and indeed for many urban Nepalis. Bon, founded in Tibet, predates Buddhism, but over time, the two religions have come to resemble each other.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_ecf8148fbaa17b93c81ddfa3ed244bed266e3ef6af0cd5e6ca7b64c181b97d45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113111156_ecf8148fbaa17b93c81ddfa3ed244bed266e3ef6af0cd5e6ca7b64c181b97d45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  ‘Both believe in karma, rebirth, and that humans can become enlightened. Nature and spirits are predominant in Bon, and rituals are what keep them benign and alight,’ says Tseten, who rarely narrates in his documentaries. “This is not really a personal film as such, but it has a point of view,” Tseten said. “I decided to have a voice-over on this one and cast my presence in the film.”&nbsp; Lubra's Lama Tsultrim is called upon to perform rituals from Kagbeni and other villages, but there is no one to continue the tradition after him, which is passed from father to son. Lama Tsultrim’s son (hence the title of the film) is a sushi chef in New York and has been gone for 20 years. “The Lama is like a setting sun, his son should come back and take over his father’s responsibilities,” says a local youngster chatting with friends. “If he dies tomorrow, where do we go? We can’t just light butter lamps ourselves to the gods.” It is not only the Lama’s son who has left. The village is nearly empty, and more are planning to leave. One of them is Chimi, a teacher who will be joining her fiancé who is an Uber driver in New York. Her brother is already in Hong Kong. In Lo Manthang a local is back home for a three-month vacation after being in New York for 12 years. A shopkeeper was in Japan for several years, and has returned. “Everything has changed, our language, our tsampa, our religion. We used to work and live together, now the children live separately,” says a middle-aged woman. “There are roads now, and vehicles stop right outside our house, but what’s the point? No one stays home.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_47b4c4984fa33e42791b16dba1f078aaa7f9d8bd51ca3bfd5415b436c3a0bf2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113111156_47b4c4984fa33e42791b16dba1f078aaa7f9d8bd51ca3bfd5415b436c3a0bf2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  Like most of Tseten’s films, The Lama’s Son is an honest documentation of a place and people whose lifestyle, culture and heritage cling precariously to the past. In Dri village we come across local women filling their buckets with water. Tseten asks them why the village is so empty: “Where is everyone?” The women reply that they are “here, there and everywhere”. Then it is their turn to ask Tseten about where he lives and what he is doing in their village. Migration is a recurring theme in Tseten’s documentaries from We Corner People, In Search of the Riyal, or Saving Dolma. His previous film Diversity Plaza documented the lives of Nepali and Tibetan emigrants in Jackson Heights in the borough of Queens in New York.&nbsp; Diversity Plaza was shown at DOC NYC in 2023, and The Lama’s Son will be one of only two Asian films shown next week at one of the biggest documentary film festivals in the world.&nbsp; “The Lama’s Son is not loud, not attention grabbing but intimate, so I was surprised they chose a quiet film for a big, flashy event,” Tseten told us. In Lama’s Son, we also see how climate breakdown is impacting Nepal’s trans-Himalayan regions. Lama Tsultrim shows us the aftermath of a recent glacial flood that swept away houses and fields. The debris-covered farms are as hard as cement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_c82126a3c2dc4577b99beb9bef20aafa16f532a3f41e59caea17c93914c59fff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251113111156_c82126a3c2dc4577b99beb9bef20aafa16f532a3f41e59caea17c93914c59fff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  The nearby village of Dhey at 3,900m is a high and dry cold desert. Farmers get one crop in a year, but the springs have gone dry and there is no snow in winter. So they are relocating to New Dhey, closer to the road. We follow Kesang Tseten to Samling in Dolpo, which at 4,200m is another Bon village. Locals are preparing for the Walchu festival in which Lama Sherrab carries out elaborate rituals to appease spirits that can turn malevolent. But unlike Lama Tsultrim in Lubra, Lama Sherrab has a community of lamas to help him, including two sons, one of whom will eventually take on his role. We move on to the adjacent village of Bicher and listen in as locals talk about how despite being dirt poor, they thrive in scarcity and are resilient. “We wear sheepskin, eat stew and yak meat, and drink wine. But we are very poor, we have nothing. Look at how dirty our clothes are. We may be dirty, but we have few illnesses,” says one. But even here in Upper Dolpo, a week’s walk from the nearest road, things are changing. There are mobile phones, readymade clothes and instant noodles.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_d1472165cfa9ffa6edbf72de59167e8cbddcc2bf4a7928f7830e099966259a78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251113111156_d1472165cfa9ffa6edbf72de59167e8cbddcc2bf4a7928f7830e099966259a78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  At the Walchu ritual, Tseten watches men and women with hand-woven blankets and down jackets sing and dance after the main ceremony. He narrates: “Bon is sustained by a way of life that fosters a fine but fragile balance between nature and people, where humans come before gods. This is what lies at the heart of Shangrila if there is such a thing.” The film then takes us half-way around the world to a Bon centre in New York, but (spoiler alert) the eponymous Lama’s son never appears. He did not want to be filmed, but it makes for a more powerful portrayal of the life of emigrants forever trapped between two worlds. “Bon villages may be in danger, but the Bon has spread widely across the world,” narrates Tseten, a director who likes to call his storytelling ethnographic, and avoids coming to an apt conclusion. Lama Sherrab’s words after the Walchu ritual is a perfect segue:&nbsp; “Whether you say om mani padme hum (in Buddhism) or matri mi yu (in Bon) they are the same. When you go up, it’s the same heavenly realm. If you go down, it’s still the lord of death who awaits. There isn’t a separate heaven and hell for Buddhists and Bon, it has to be the same for both.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312110_82817ef48840bb6baa1732d5b0b90c90ead2f9bd9eb0c289940fa61d8058de8d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025111312110_82817ef48840bb6baa1732d5b0b90c90ead2f9bd9eb0c289940fa61d8058de8d" data-rendition-name="original" width="7087" height="10004" loading="lazy" alt="The Lama's Son NT"> </figure>  The Lama’s Son by Kesang Tseten, 2025 Shunyata Films To be screened at DOC NYC 16 November at 2:05PM local time, Online: 17-30 November Details <a href="https://www.docnyc.net/film/the-lamas-son/">here</a>.

The periphery cannot hold

The sixth edition of PhotoKTM will mark a decade of visual storytelling and continue its role as a vital platform for photographers and visual artists to explore the politics of photographs and their role in shaping our histories and futures.&nbsp; The month-long festival across Kathmandu Valley features 18 exhibitions, slideshows, workshops, artist talks, panel discussions, portfolio reviews, and film screenings. While Nepal Art Council will be the anchor venue, the festival will go on the road in Mangahiti and Chyasal in Patan, Nigu Pukhu in Madhyapur Thimi, Nandi Keshar Bagaincha in Naxal and Tribhuvan University. The curatorial themes of PhotoKTM 6 Global South Solidarities draws inspiration from the historic 1955 Bandung Conference in Indonesia, which marks its 70th anniversary this year.&nbsp; The festival explores the political and cultural legacy of the Third World Project, exploring the history of global resistance and solidarity, and how they have shaped contemporary processes to reclaim sovereignty of regions battered by centuries of colonialism, exploitation, and violence.&nbsp; The festival spotlights the work and curatorial voices of artists from over 40 artists based in the Global South, from Santiago to Lubumbashi and Quito to Dakar, alongside Nepali photographers and filmmakers. “We hope this year’s coming together will deepen cultural understanding among artists and cultural communities across the Third World, strengthen reciprocal transnational solidarities through the sharing of our histories, stories, struggles and hopes, and open up pathways for more south-south collaboration and exchange across geographies,” says NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati, co-founder and festival director.&nbsp; Also featured are eight Nepali artists from the 2025 photo.circle fellowship cohort, whose works explore questions, challenges, and contradictions surrounding the notions of ‘development’ and ‘progress’ in contemporary Nepal.&nbsp; The festival comes two months after the GenZ protests, at a pivotal moment when Nepal is navigating significant political transitions. Says curator Diwas Raja KC: “From anti-colonial struggles to the Bandung Conference, to the non-alignment movement and revolutionary cultural exchanges, these histories continue to shape how countries like Nepal imagine their place in the world.”&nbsp; PhotoKTM6 is supported by the Shikshya Foundation Nepal, the Embassy of Switzerland in Nepal, as well as independent non-profit organisations FreeMuse and Cultural Workers Solidarity Front. “I think it is particularly relevant that these spaces are created and maintained because it is only if people meet and continue to do this important work, in which they think collectively, they work collectively, and they hold up certain values, that they will be capable of contributing to what I would call a ‘free world’,” says yasmine eid-sabbagh, who is the invited interlocutor to this year’s festival. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Ji ta Newa Bhyaa Mawa (I don’t know Nepal Bhasa)&nbsp;</h2> Jyoti Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121124_0fbeb8abf122867f5d5294c6e4c7ef2a4e3785e2d4083fb663ebe543e9b8396d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113121124_0fbeb8abf122867f5d5294c6e4c7ef2a4e3785e2d4083fb663ebe543e9b8396d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: JYOTI SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  Jyoti Shrestha was born to Newar parents in Kathmandu but grew up without learning the mother tongue, Nepal Bhasa. ‘My parents, with the best of intentions, taught us English and Nepali—languages of success and survival in a world that had set ours aside... A Newar without language, I felt alien in the very culture that was meant to be mine,’ writes Shrestha in her testimony. Nepal Bhasa is in UNESCO’s ‘definitely endangered’ list. Shrestha has begun to learn her language with help from her parents, and in doing so, their relationship has shifted for the better. She adds: “No census counts the intimacy of a shared memory, the tenderness of language passed between generations, or the weight of an inherited silence.” <h2>The Land Remembers Our Name&nbsp;</h2> Rejin Purja  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_14b44a9e7a9d27c9ac5e893e59930d049d1be05401a42217c304a7d08c2e47e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113121128_14b44a9e7a9d27c9ac5e893e59930d049d1be05401a42217c304a7d08c2e47e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: RENJIN PURJA</figcaption> </figure>  The Department of Mines and Geology has confirmed the presence of iron ore in Jhumlawang in East Rukum. Iron mining has not started yet but a Kathmandu-based private company is said to have won the bid at Rs40.3 million. If the project indeed takes off, most of the families will have to be evacuated. “Not only will they lose their houses, land, and forests, but their roots, culture, and autonomy are also at stake. How can this project be considered of national benefit when it forces the very people it should serve to live in fear of their future?,” Rejin Purja writes in his testimony. Economic development exploits the natural resources of native and indigenous communities. Such projects may boost GDP and corporate profits, but they rarely improve the lives of the people whose land is being extracted from. This work reflects the uncertainty felt by the local people about their village’s future. <h2>Fragmented Land and Me</h2> Sujata Khadka  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_f28f960361f822792d8e4442f61deaea71bdf6022b9906509b7e9258939fdbcb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251113121128_f28f960361f822792d8e4442f61deaea71bdf6022b9906509b7e9258939fdbcb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUJATA KHADKA</figcaption> </figure>  Sujata Khadka’s ancestral home in Godavari’s Jharuwarasi was destroyed in the 2015 earthquake, after which her family built a new house on a small plot of land nearby. In the decade since the earthquake, rapid land trade has turned the farmland surrounding her home into a housing development. For the past 10 years, Khadka has been watching natural and man-made events unfold on the plots from her window on the second floor of her house. The land has been witness to playing children, negotiating brokers, bulldozers, and prowling wildlife. But despite relentless hemming and hawing by buyers and sellers over the past decade, no houses have been built on the land. &nbsp;“This misshapen land feels like a stage where a cast of characters performs an ongoing act,” says Khadka. “Perhaps this land and I are spectators to this drama.” <h2>Why doesn’t home feel like home?</h2> Karma Tshering Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_c568cdf076247f8904b289e9108ed4e7b5187d86694913751123a6b5df663142.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251113121128_c568cdf076247f8904b289e9108ed4e7b5187d86694913751123a6b5df663142" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: KARMA TSHERING GURUNG</figcaption> </figure>  Karma Tshering Gurung was born in Manang to a Manangi family, where he was raised with his siblings. But in recent times, whenever he has visited his family in Manang, he has felt a sense of unease, like the place sees him as an occasional visitor, an outsider who no longer understands the aspirations of his people. As Manang becomes a tourist spot, Gurung’s brother thinks it is a good idea to tear down their ancestral house and build a snooker house in its place. But Gurung thinks the house is their Appa’s legacy, and worth preserving. The brothers’ ideas of home have diverged. &nbsp; &nbsp;“With a camera in hand, I am trying to rediscover my relationship with this place, with my past, navigating ideas of home and belonging tied to Manang,” he says. “Maybe home for me is no longer just a place, but this search for identity, memory and connection.” <h2>Life and Struggle of Garment Workers&nbsp;</h2> Taslima Akhter (Bangladesh)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_9447434bde6d70048768c33dda8001e4e3f8da0718c8fff8f96970c4d69139ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251113121128_9447434bde6d70048768c33dda8001e4e3f8da0718c8fff8f96970c4d69139ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: TASLIMA AKHTER@Taslima Akhter</figcaption> </figure>  This project focuses on the millions of workers who leave their villages and move into crowded worker barracks in the cities of Bangladesh, in search of a better life. <h2>Between Us, a Thread&nbsp;</h2> Ahmed Alaqra (Ramallah)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_805845728d6e1fd13539d5c0af35f202f72ffbfb8e7dd502cc3c44067e2b574f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251113121128_805845728d6e1fd13539d5c0af35f202f72ffbfb8e7dd502cc3c44067e2b574f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: RUBA ALFARAOUNA</figcaption> </figure>  A quiet gesture between photographers, image-makers, and those who hold memory like a fragile light. Palestinian, Arab, scattered — yet orbiting the same wound.&nbsp; <h2>Possible and Imaginary Lives&nbsp;</h2> yasmine eid-sabbagh / Rozenn Quéré  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_a30877e2c30764d5d29c0b0457e2722685138e968549dedd8803dee1299bc45c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251113121128_a30877e2c30764d5d29c0b0457e2722685138e968549dedd8803dee1299bc45c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo Courtesy: YASMINE EID-SABBAGH AND ROZENN QUÉRÉ(Photo: ) </figcaption> </figure>  An exhibition, based on family photographs and taped interviews, tells the story of four strong and feisty Palestinian-Lebanese sisters, exiled to the four corners of the globe. <h2>Martyrs, Saints &amp; Sellouts&nbsp;</h2> Siona O’Connel (South Africa)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121128_7b84f695bdd27353af1f35ff5f739283d739b4fa7594e4965ca1230d4d60940b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251113121128_7b84f695bdd27353af1f35ff5f739283d739b4fa7594e4965ca1230d4d60940b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: BENNY GOOL</figcaption> </figure>  Comprised of photographs by Benny Gool, Zubeida Vallie and Adil Bradlow, documenting apartheid South Africa, this exhibition presents a vivid narrative of violence, loss and injuries that continue to reverberate under the rhetoric of the post apartheid landscape. <h2>Humo, Semilla, Raíz</h2> Isadora Romero (Ecuador)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113121132_b01b94f340265fd42dcdffd98f39f58d3b1b3385718cb055d2b35e04fb1eda58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251113121132_b01b94f340265fd42dcdffd98f39f58d3b1b3385718cb055d2b35e04fb1eda58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="798" loading="lazy" alt="The politics behind photographs NT"> <figcaption>Photo: ISADORA ROMERO</figcaption> </figure>  An alternate look into environmental issues through the prism of possibility, instead of catastrophic consequence is what this exhibition brings. Romero’s visual research engages with how the loss of ancestral memory and Indigenous knowledge resulting from colonisation, forced displacement, and racism is causing seeds to disappear at an alarming rate. <h2>First week schedule (selected)</h2> Friday, 14 November Bhandarkhal Garden, Patan Museum, 5:30pm -7:30pm Festival Opening + Award of Excellence Saturday, 15 November Yala Maya Kendra, Patan Dhoka 3pm-4pm Demounting Louis Agassiz – Artistic Renegotiation of Archive, Memory &amp; Place. Talk by Sasha Huber (moderated by Diwas Raja Khatri) 4:30pm-6pm Witness or Accomplice: Photography, Human Rights and the Question of Freedom. Talk by Prof. Siona O’ Connell (moderated by NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati) Sunday, 16 November Yala Maya Kendra July, Unfinished. Jaheen Faruque Amin in conversation with Sabnam Lama, 3pm- 4pm When The World is Blind – Images by Palestinians. Ahmed Alaqra in conversation with yasmine eid-sabbagh, 4- 6pm Manga Hiti, 7pm-8pm Slideshow – Who Does The River Belong To? Monday, 17 November Yala Maya Kendra, 3pm - 4pm Memory is an Inaccurate Place: Dialogues Across Time, Territories, and Histories. Isadora Romero in conversation with Tanvi Mishra 4:30pm-6pm Third Camera – a Film Series: Ernest Cole: Lost and Found Dir. Raoul Peck 2024 | 1h 46m | English Tuesday, 18 November Yala Maya Kendra Sustaining Art Ecosystems That Resist and Nurture – Part 1 Paola Farran in conversation with Jessica Lim, 3pm- 4pm Sustaining Art Ecosystems That Resist and Nurture – Part 2 Chelsea Chua in conversation with Tif Ng, 4pm:30-6pm Khapinchhen, Patan A Photographer’s Fifty-Year Journey in Nepal. A Slideshow and Talk with Kevin Bubriski, 7-7:30pm PhotoKTM Bhoé, 7:30pm-9:30pm Rs1,800 (early bird), Rs2,000 (door sale) Wednesday, 19 November Yala Maya Kendra 3pm- 4pm Sustaining Art Ecosystems That Resist and Nurture – Part 3 Andrea Thal in conversation with Diwas Raja Khatri 4:30pm-6pm We must refuse silence! Samir Eskanda, Shahidul Alam, and Tabara Korka Ndiaye in conversation with yasmine eid-sabbagh Thursday, 20 November Nepal Art Council, 4pm- 6pm Walk-thru at NAC with Enuma Rai, Jyoti Shrestha, Karma Tshering Gurung, Manoj Bohara, Manjit Lama, Rejin Purja, Sujata Khadka, Sushila Bishwakarma More details <a href="https://photoktm.com/photoktm6-schedule/">here</a>. PHOTOKTM6 14 November-14 December Kathmandu Valley All events free and open