<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222909c7e80680e0c0302jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>Lions in Africa have been known to use quicksand to trap prey. For example, it is when a wildebeest finds itself mired in mud that the lioness approaches for the kill.There is an uncanny parallel between the wildebeest and today’s youngsters who encounter Instagram or TikTok for the first time, unaware of what they are getting into. Watching a funny reel on Instagram, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok videos, or waiting for likes on a Facebook post – they all deliver instant gratification.The addiction rides stealthily on the algorithms, fueled by feel-good hormones whenever the user procrastinates on important homework to watch YouTube or take a break from an assignment to post a #bored selfie.Dopamine rushes through the brain whenever they get a new like or a mention, resulting in a rush that is as addictive as a drug.  Studies have shown that it is when users seek to be constantly rewarded with such short-lived emotional highs that it starts to affect their personality and real life social skills.The human mental circuitry gets accustomed to frequent flashes of joy, and users find it increasingly difficult to concentrate and invest time in things that actually matter, that take time and energy to accomplish. Gratification is then not deferred, but is needed immediately and frequently.In Nepal and elsewhere, disruptions brought out by the Covid-19 pandemic and the home isolation of lockdowns increased screen time. TikTok video uploads and downloads alone take up a quarter of Nepal’s entire internet bandwidth.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-you-want-to-become-an-influencer/">So you want to become an influencer?</a>, Anjana RajbhandariEven as the virus wanes, social media users yearn to go viral. As young people get back to in-person classes and physical meetings, social media dependence now manifests in other spheres of life. Everyone wants fast results, top grades without putting in the work, a restaurant meal to share on IG, and to show friends how much fun I am having.Students spend most of their years waking hours swiping through reels, clocking likes, scrolling through stories. They are getting used to making fast judgements, only to realise that real life moves at a slower pace, and friendships are made face-to-face and not on Facebook.Of all the things that social media offers, the one thing it can never teach is patience and reflection. An adolescent then is deprived of real-life friendships, thinking and talking about career goals, going on a slow trek through the mountains – all this takes too much more effort than updating an Instagram feed or posting a TikTok clip.Deferred gratification is when we resist the temptation of short-term pleasures in the hopes of a lasting reward and it is so much harder because it requires patience.Just as the habitat of the wildebeest and the lion is the savannah, human habitat today is the cybersphere. Nearly 60% of the world’s population browses the net, and we spend an average of 2.5 hours a day networking on our phones. These numbers have shot up after Covid so that we are surrounded by posts, comments and notifications. We are lost without the device to access them.Social media algorithms ensnare users in the quicksand.Media literacy in schools would make today’s young be better informed about social networking sites, and how they cleverly reinforce preferences and reward choices. This could perhaps push them to understand the influence it has on their lives, and make a more rational use of this media resource.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-interface-with-information/">Nepal’s interface with information</a>, Kunda DixitSilicon Valley mines personal data for revenue, and the more time users spend on their sites, the more money they make. They call it ‘Improving user experience’ but that is just a euphemism for the algorithm that engulfs users in the quicksand.To be sure, there is much to be gained from sensible use of social media: promoting an enterprise, catching up with friends or advocating for a social cause. But how do we maximise its usefulness and avoid the swamp?<ol><li>The first step is a self-realisation and determination to improve our use of social media. You first need to want to kick the habit.</li></ol><ol start="2"><li>Mute notifications. We have been conditioned to react instantly to notifications. Checking a notification feels like unwrapping a present and getting a shot of dopamine. But what starts out as a quick check ends up being a binge watch of videos. Muting cuts this distraction at the source and short-circuits the algorithm.</li></ol><ol start="3"><li>The third step may be the hardest, and what makes the difference between taming the lion or being tamed by it. The best course of action for the wildebeest is to remain still. The more it moves, the more it sinks in the ooze. The more you are online, the more social media tracks you, keeping you engaged through clever customisation. Minimising use helps extricate users from the bog.</li></ol>Think before posting, don’t share unverified posts, resist double tapping just because you have nothing better to do, and self-examine your own social media use. Like many things in life, it is ultimately your own choice.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222939c7e80680e0c0303jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="78" height="109">Yugottam Koirala is a student at St Xavier’s College, Kathmandu.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/digital-discrimination/">Digital discrimination</a>, J B Biswokarma

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Avoiding the quicksand of social media

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111120/6372170e9c7e80680e0ba9cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1057" height="700"/><figcaption>A S PANNEERSELVAN. Photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>A S Panneerselvan is executive director of Panos South Asia, which fosters public debate in the region. He has been the Reader's Editor of The Hindu, and a strong advocate of ethical and responsible journalism. He teaches media studies at the Asian College of Journalism in Chennai. The following are excerpts from a recent conversation between him and Shekhar Kharel on the challenges facing old and new media.Nepali Times: As a frequent visitor to Nepal, what do you make of the mediascape here?A S Panneerselvan: In the 1990s Nepal set a standard for South Asian media when it came up with the finest decentralised media environment through its <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/radio-sagarmatha-the-radio-wave,3718" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community radio revolution</a>. But the digital disruption has completely changed that. While it has given a voice to everyone, no one is actually listening. We have concurrent monologues, not dialogues. There is also no supporting revenue stream for this new model.With <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mobile connectivity</a> even in rural areas, the digital divide itself is an obsolete concept. But the global media is also extremely centralised. A handful of Silicon Valley multinationals control our information ecosystem. Governments can switch off connectivity as we saw in Jammu and Kashmir in 2021 when its special status was abrogated.Traditional media played an empowering role during Nepal’s People’s Movements I and II. But there are new questions today: Is the media going to get caught up in the social media cacophony, or play a leadership role?How are these changes going to affect the sustainability, credibility and independence of Nepali media? The Nepali media now has reach, but it needs revenue to survive. This is crucial because the media has a dual role: bearing witness and making sense. Bearing witness means journalists have to travel to gather news and that costs money. The budget to bear witness is shrinking. So, broadsheet publications retain their respectability by focusing more on making sense by writing editorials explaining a particular issue. Making sense has taken precedence over bearing witness. This is why the digital disruption is hurting us.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/internet-in-everything/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Internet in everything</a>, EditorialHow does this revenue model then affect the digital media? When the Arab Spring happened, we thought the digital media would become an enabler. But <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/ununited-states-of-america/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Trump</a> and Brexit showed us that it is also a curse. Today, the trend is towards clickbait journalism since algorithms decide what is going to get amplified and what is not. Editorial judgment has no place in this environment, the content can be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/digital-discrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">misogynist, ultra-nationalistic jingoism, war-mongering, spewing hate</a>. It does not matter, as long as it gets the reach. When you ask Silicon Valley companies to regulate such content, they say they are not a media organisation but purely a platform. Yet they want all the credibility and reach of media organisations. When it suits them they become a media organisation, when it doesn’t they become a platform. The fact that these trans-border organisations are not governed by conventional laws is causing further harm.The political economy of these platform companies is that they give money to the carriers, not the content generators. But carriers are not neutral. Whether they are ISP providers, DTH platforms or search engines, they are heavily loaded and discriminatory. And carriers have become so powerful that content companies are now dependent on them, and this is against the spirit of an independent media elsewhere and in Nepal.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111120/637217119c7e80680e0ba9cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="700"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>So what is the role of journalists in this new environment?Journalism is different from all other forms of communication because at its core is the act of verification. It is different from blogging or posts on social media with no filtration. This act of verification is mediated by editorial judgment — the two things that give journalism its credibility. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-social-media-contagion/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Social media</a> is destroying this and denying citizens the democratic right for credible information.Whose responsibility is it to uphold the media’s credibility?It is the responsibility of citizens who have to invest in credible information that is the building block of democratic rights. People’s spending on media in the last 5-10 years has gone up, but the money is going to the carriers. We pay internet service providers, DTH companies and for mobile connectivity. Money spent on those creating content for media has gone down. Credible information is a public good, we must reinvest in it.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/press-for-people/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Press for people</a>, Sahina ShresthaBut will a public hooked on TikTok invest in credible information? People don’t think twice about paying IPSs or for DTH connections, why would they not also pay a part of it to news outlets that they trust? Trusted institutions need a certain amount of financial leeway. Since 2006 we have witnessed a huge squeeze on the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-print-is-exaggerated/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">traditional media model</a>. This is hurting us in two ways. One, the most credible information has become the most expensive, while the most salacious is the most accessible. For example in the UK, those who want credible information, say the Financial Times, have to pay, but the tabloid Daily Mail is free. Tabloidisation of news is the biggest challenge for us, and we don’t have a language to confront that. But we can’t expect the government to act either, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">their response is censorship</a>. Silicon Valley corporations already account for 80% of digital revenue. If Facebook, Google and Twitter are going to take it all away, what is the role for professionals across the world working to produce credible information?Doesn’t this erode the independence of the press?We have to make a distinction between what was happening till 2010 and after. Until 2010, the mainstream media had its own problems, but were still largely independent. Post 2010, the ownership has gone over to big corporations who do not mind losing money as long as they prevent others from entering the field. The rules have changed in such a way that the political economy has become the corporate economy.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/digital-discrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Digital discrimination</a>, JB BiswokarmaSo, is there a future at all for the printed media?Digital media is here to stay, and we have to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/internet-in-everything/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">negotiate our space within this new environment</a>. But digital platforms do not have a sustainable revenue model. We have a hybrid entity controlled by corporates, and whatever they give is what we receive. Large content generators have been reduced to an appendix. People often cite The New York Timesand the Financial Timesas examples of successful transitions, but they are only mimicking the Silicon Valley giants. The better model was that of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepali-radio-nepali-awaj,3728" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s community radios</a> which decentralised credible information produced by and for the people. But even that has been eroded with corporate takeovers.This is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/reward-performance/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">year of elections in Nepal</a>. Three Ms are considered important for the polls: Money, Muscles and Media. Are there lessons from India?Back in the day, the media used to come up with difficult questions. Now it presents only easy answers. Social media like <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/huge-uptick-in-tiktok-during-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">TikTok</a> are leading this trend by producing content with simplified narratives which rob the reality of its complexities. The misuse of media is not new. During India’s emergency from 1975-77, the government controlled the media and yet the people eventually voted against Indira Gandhi. Recently we saw media manipulation in West Bengal, but the public voted against the BJP there. The thing is, the will of the people cannot be underestimated or manipulated beyond a point.

“All the people cannot be fooled all the time”

The monsoon has got bad press because Nepal’s tourism operators actively told visitors to avoid <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon?%2F">the rainy season</a>. It is time to change that. The reason can be found right here in the vast alpine meadows of Central Nepal where this time of year you can walk on velvet grass of pastures abloom with delicate pink, red and yellow flowers as the mist rolls up the valley. There is no sound except the hum of bumble bees. &nbsp;&nbsp; There are dozens of places across high Nepal called Chaurikharka, which means yak pasture. But this particular Chaurikharka in Rukum East located at an altitude of 4,000m stands out for its serene beauty, rustic charm and bucolic setting. There is just the occasional chime of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">yak bells</a> in the distance, and the sharp whistle of herders corralling sheep. &nbsp;&nbsp; The grass shoots are so fragile that one hesitates to step on them, the rounded ridges appear and quickly vanish in waves of mist. With the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon"> arrival of monsoon</a>, these meadows are a soothing shade of green dotted with millions of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-anatomy-of-a-flower?%2F=">multi-coloured flowers</a>. Until very recently, it took a week or so to hike up to places like Chaurikharka, but with the expansion of the road network even to these far-flung mountains in the lap of Dhaulagiri, they are much more accessible. It is just a three-hour uphill from the Mid-Hill Highway on the border between Baglung and Rukum East.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Purists would say that such easy access devalues the sanctity of these remote high meadows, but it also means more people will be moved to treasure the experience, appreciate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">the value of nature </a>so they can take steps to protect it.&nbsp; To be sure, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/deadly-monsoon-in-nepal-turns-deadlier">monsoon season can be challenging for road travel</a>. The roads are rough even at the best of times, and in the monsoon they become muddy and treacherous, often blocked by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/monsoon-deluge-in-nepal"> landslides</a>. But that could be precisely the kind of adventure that the more intrepid visitors crave. Improved road connectivity has already made Chaurikharka and places like Badimallika &nbsp;and other sacred lakes in the mountains of western Nepal popular with domestic tourists. What is driving this traffic is the urge to go to exotic new places and share videos and selfies on social media. Several of Nepal’s travel vloggers have visited Chaurikharka and popularised the place, enticing followers on TikTok or YouTube to retrace their footsteps. But even as they become more popular, these fragile and once-remote places should be protected from over-tourism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="699" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon NT"> </figure>  <h2>INCREASING FOOTFALL</h2> Chaurikharka is located in Bhume Rural Municipality of East Rukum, near the scenic valley of Dhorpatan in Baglung district. Even in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-culture">middle of the monsoon</a>, there is a steady stream of Nepali hikers trooping to these high pastures – especially during festival days like Saune Sankranti which this year was on 17 July and actually marks the auspicious beginning of the monsoon here. “This year the rains have not been as heavy and there have been some clear mornings when we could see everything from Dhaulagiri to Machapuchre,” says Khageswar Bhandari, who trekked up here from the road. “The flowers, the greenery and the snowy mountain views make this an incredibly unique place.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Chaurikharka is worthwhile to get to in any season, but it has a different charm during the monsoon. Word has spread and because it is now easy to get to from Baglung or even Pokhara, people have been flocking here.&nbsp; “Holidays and Saturdays see the largest crowds, with up to 500 visitors every day,” says ward chair Mankaji Pun of Bhume.&nbsp; There was a time not too long ago when local herders brought sheep, goats, cows, buffaloes, horses, and mules to graze here during the monsoon. Although there are still livestock around, animals have been replaced by visitors taking selfies. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-monsoon-and-nature-s-arithmetic">The monsoon, and nature’s arithmetic</a>, Tom Robertson Ward Chair Pun says infrastructure development is his main priority. A foot trail to Chaurikharka was built last year by the Tourism Division Office in Kohalpur, but access via the Raniwas-Koipa road section still remains challenging.&nbsp; “If we get more budget, we can improve the road and facilities to make Chaurikharka the main tourist attraction of this region,” says Bhume Municipality Chair Hom Prakash Shrestha. “After that, we hope to promote Chaurikharka as a top tourist spot.”&nbsp; Economic activity is also picking up with the arrival of visitors, but there seems to be a need to manage the makeshift sheds made of corrugated sheets that spoil the beauty of the place. Tea shops and lodges are also available but facilities are basic. Kuldeep Neupane took a three-day trip from Ghorahi in Dang to visit Chaurikharka recently, and says: “This is an ideal trip to make a quick getaway and let nature recharge your mind and body. And it is much more fun with a tent, to watch the sunrise over the Himalaya or the mist blowing in.”

Visit Nepal in the monsoon

The final investigation report on the crash of a Saurya Airlines jet on 24 July 2024 at Kathmandu airport has revealed flaws in the carrier’s technical operation procedures, poor monitoring by the Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) and gaps in the airport’s emergency response. Eighteen people including a child were killed, and only the captain survived as the plane plunged seconds after takeoff, crashing within the airport perimeter. This was the latest in a series of aircraft accidents in previous years, and further tarnished Nepal’s already poor aviation safety record and contributed to the country being retained in the EU’s air safety list. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The circumstances in the Saurya crash were different from the Yeti Airlines crash in Pokhara in January 2022 that killed all 72 on board, and two Tara Air crashes in February 2016 and May 2022 on approach to Jomsom that together claimed 45 lives. However, all four tragedies were a result of negligence of carriers and crew, failure to follow procedures, regulatory slackness, and overconfidence. The Saurya crash, especially, was a glaring example of how an ailing airline broke its own rules to allow passengers, including non-employees, a joy ride to Pokhara on a maintenance ferry flight. CRASH REPORT The Final Investigation Report prepared by the Aircraft Accident Investigation Commission and released on the first anniversary of the crash last week carried a long list of rules that were ignored or broken, and of regulatory failure. The first mistake was to cram spares, tools and inflammable chemicals needed for the aircraft’s C-Check in Pokhara into the cargo hold flouting its own ground handling procedures.&nbsp; There was no check-in of passengers, some of whom were not even employees – even though regulations say only flight and maintenance crew should be on board a maintenance positioning flight. Many brought their own luggage into the plane and stored it unsecured in the cabin. There was no flight attendant to give a safety briefing to passengers. The load and trim charts given to the flight crew were rough estimates, and the total takeoff weight of the plane was 18,300kg plus or minus 200 kg. That would still have been all right, but there was a glaring mistake in the speedchart Saurya pilots were using to calculate the minimum takeoff speed (known as VR), and it had been wrong ever since the 21-year-old aircraft entered service with the airline in 2017. FAULTY DATA&nbsp; The Commission probed Flight Data Recorder inputs from previous takeoffs of the Canadian-built CRJ200-LR in 2023-2024 and found that the undetected error in the speedchart had caused the plane to pitch up at an abnormal rotation rate at least 18 times on previous takeoffs.&nbsp; Any rotation rate more than 3°/sec is regarded as unusual. But on at least two occasions, this aircraft with tail number 9N-AME had rotation rates of 5.8°/sec and 5.5°/sec, the second one was when the pilot who survived was flying in March 2024.&nbsp; On this particular day, the plane’s rotation rate was 6.5°/sec, causing it to go into a deep stall soon after takeoff, the Commission report said. Essentially, the plane was not flying fast enough down the runway to take off safely.&nbsp; It is not yet clear whether excess weight, unsecured luggage, wrong centre of gravity were also factors, but relying on a faulty speedchart for the given takeoff weight, the captain flying pulled back on the yoke before the plane had reached takeoff speed and at a pitch angle that was too steep. The investigation report says the plane then went into a deep stall and started banking right with the stick shaking. At this point, the flight officer on the right hand seat is heard on the cockpit voice recorder saying: “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sir, Sir, Sir…” It then banked left before the pilot flying turned the plane sharply to the right again in an evasive action to avoid the parking aprons of the international and domestic terminals. Had he not done so, there would have been a disaster of a much greater magnitude at Kathmandu airport that day. The plane scraped the runway with its right wingtip, collided with a container having helicopter spare parts, and plunged into a gully east of the runway, exploding in a fireball. The investigation also noted that the impact forces seemed to be survivable for some occupants. The fire trucks took unnecessarily long to reach the site even though it was inside the airport perimeter. The absence of an ICAO-standard runway strip, inadequate rescue drills, lack of training, and a blocked emergency service gate leading to the crash site were cited as other factors. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Timestamp of a Disaster</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110724_39cdd04693994ce6e55a5b302905c0fa4884fe85bed21ff0779bb1439f3a5725.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250731110724_39cdd04693994ce6e55a5b302905c0fa4884fe85bed21ff0779bb1439f3a5725" data-rendition-name="original" width="778" height="826" loading="lazy" alt="Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy NT"> </figure>  11:10:34 - The Saurya Airlines CRJ200 on the takeoff roll from runway 02. It had a takeoff weight of about 18,300kg, but the pilot’s speedcard had a previously undetected mistake about the minimum takeoff speed. 11:10:55 -The plane with tail number 9N-AME goes into deep stall soon after takeoff because it does not have enough speed to lift its weight. The plane also has an abnormally steep nose-up attitude.&nbsp; 11:11:03 - Without enough speed to generate lift, the plane banks right, then left and right again in CCTV photos taken from the domestic apron (below). If it had not banked right, it could have hit the aprons and terminal buildings. Seen parked is Saurya’s other CRJ200 with tail number 9N-ANM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110732_608132f7225c649125cca2691dd6a6bf930984c5b359e888d7ad9e5eacce3afd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250731110732_608132f7225c649125cca2691dd6a6bf930984c5b359e888d7ad9e5eacce3afd" data-rendition-name="original" width="770" height="555" loading="lazy" alt="Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy NT"> </figure>  11:11:08 - The plane scrapes the runway with its right wingtip, and falls into the gully. The captain is thrown off the left side of the cockpit and survives. 11:11:15: Plane explodes in a fireball inside the airport perimeter. Firefighters take time to reach the site because of lack of access road and a blocked gate. Read the full investigation report <a href="https://www.tourism.gov.np/files/9N-AME%20AIC%20Final%20Report.pdf">here</a>.

Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy

Every year, up to 15 people are killed by tigers in and around Nepal’s Chitwan National Park, famous for its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/is-wildlife-conservation-a-victim-of-its-own-success-in-nepal">conservation success story</a>.&nbsp; But this was not always the case — elders say there used to be many more tigers but fewer deaths. What changed? Long before <a href="https://chitwannationalpark.gov.np/index.php">Chitwan National Park</a> was established in 1972, the indigenous Tharu people and tigers coexisted, fostering a centuries-old relationship based on an understanding of each other’s behaviour. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">the Tarai </a>plains, especially Chitwan, gained fame for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">tiger hunting</a> and proved useful as Nepal’s rulers employed hunting diplomacy by inviting British royals to extravagant hunting parties. Hunting expeditions would descend from Kathmandu in winter months to avoid malarial summers. The Tharu supplied rice, vegetables, goats, and constructed access roads.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250729160752_c9998ffdaa27ff3c251556bd472945bf6e648fdb4016d3b152cbef86f321c7f7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250729160752_c9998ffdaa27ff3c251556bd472945bf6e648fdb4016d3b152cbef86f321c7f7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1146" loading="lazy" alt="Tharu people"> <figcaption>A US-supported DDT spraying campaign against malaria in Chitwan in the 1950s that opened the valley to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. The Tharu people were partially immune to malaria. Photo: USOM RECORDS, US NATIONAL ARCHIVES, COLLEGE PARK, MARYLAND</figcaption> </figure>  Rana rulers also relied upon Tharu mahout expertise in handling elephants, navigating the jungle, and tracking wildlife for hunting. The Ranas and their guests killed an astonishing number of tigers. During a hunting expedition in 1850, Rana Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana personally shot dead 31 tigers. In 1876, during two weeks, British King Albert Edward VII shot 23 tigers.&nbsp; In 1911 King George V killed four bears, eight one-horned rhinoceroses, and 39 tigers. Rana Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher is said to have killed 433 tigers from all across the Tarai between 1930 to 1940. At the time, 90% of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/chitwan-s-bote-people-in-a-changing-world">Chitwan’s population </a>were indigenous Tharu, Bote, Musahar, with the Kumal making up the rest. While people were worried about their crops and food sources, they were also mindful of tigers, rhinos, and other forms of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor?%2F">wildlife</a>.&nbsp; The Tharu trapped tiger prey such as wild boar and deer for their survival, also understood that predators like tigers sometimes hunted their buffalos, goats, and cows — especially when they grazed in or near the jungle. To Tharu, this seemed only fair. “In 1973, just before the establishment of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-the-tri-junction-of-wildlife-conservation-conflict-and-co-existence"> Chitwan National Park</a>, my family owned between 200 and 300 cows, oxen, and buffaloes,” says Keval Chaudhary, 95. “Tigers killed four to five of my cattle each year, but we never hated tigers and never felt like killing them. It was coexistence — we shared the same land.”&nbsp; Shukhlal Chaudhary of Bachauli once told us there used to be significantly more tigers before malaria eradication in the 1950s, but that did not mean there was more conflict with humans. “We used to go into the forest every day, and were familiar with the routines of the animals that lived there,” he used to say. “The tigers rarely ventured into our village or killed anyone who lived there.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250729160756_e39f7bdb451f752b753b1d8fc4e590196afd5cd21e2456443557c2eafb6c5c82.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250729160756_e39f7bdb451f752b753b1d8fc4e590196afd5cd21e2456443557c2eafb6c5c82" data-rendition-name="original" width="1915" height="1443" loading="lazy" alt="Tigers in Nepal"> </figure>  In the days before the National Park, the tiger population in Chitwan was probably bigger. The Ranas had laws against hurting rhinos and tigers, but more importantly, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/unsung-heroes-of-nepal-s-tiger-recovery">the Tharu also cared for the animals </a>and the jungle. This respect for nature runs deep in our tradition. The Tharu worship through the Gurau spiritual healer and honour the forest deity known as Bandevi. Says Aasha Ram Mahato, an 85-year-old resident of Madi: “हमरा पुजा करइ खुनिय जम्मा देवी देउता जससनेकी सोमेसोरबाणि, कल्की माइ, बिक्रम बाबा सब थारु देवी देउता क नाउ लेके हमरा सन्सारी बर्ना कर्साहु इय जेठवा नत एसार्ह महिनावमा हमरा इअ बाली बिर्ही बचावके, बनवका चिजुवा बिजुवा बचावके कहके हमरा बरसमा ३ चोटी पुजा कर्साहु एसार्ही बर्ना, लेरुवा पैठ हसे चैत पैठ बर्ना।” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu">The Tharu </a>take the names of all the gods they worship — such as Somesor Baani, Kalki Maai, and Bikram Baba, and perform Sansaari Puja, a traditional ritual to protect crops, wild and domestic animals, insects, and everything in nature. This ritual reflects the community’s deep respect and spiritual bond with the natural world and is performed three times a year. Bikram Mahato, 65, recalls an incident six years ago when 10 people entered Chitwan National Park to cut fodder grass. A tiger was 50m away, silently watching them and preparing to attack. The group quickly decided not to run or scatter. Instead, they stayed close together.&nbsp; This smart and immediate decision prevented a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/close-encounters-with-tigers-in-nepal">tiger attack</a>. It also depicts the Tharu indigenous community’s understanding of nature and wildlife, as well as their choice of coexistence and protection. The Nepal government and foreign aid organisations have mostly forgotten the history of Tharu–tiger coexistence and the community’s silent but c<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/conservation-at-the-crossroads">rucial role in tiger conservation</a>. Nevertheless, let us hope that the state will eventually acknowledge and pay tribute to the contributions of the Indigenous Tharu in protecting the forests and wildlife, especially the tigers, that currently make up Chitwan National Park. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

Nepal’s Tharu are tiger protectors

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

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Walking, working, worshipping in Patan