<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205c69c7e80680e0b28d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Photo: SONIA AWALE</figcaption></figure>The last Sunday in January is World Leprosy Day. Since 2006, I have issued an annual Global Appeal to End Stigma and Discrimination against Persons Affected by Leprosy, supported by influential individuals and organisations around the world.Amid the coronavirus pandemic, which has shown how easily fear and anxiety about a disease can fuel prejudice, I believe this call to eliminate <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=711#.YfYlNi2B3ow" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">stigma and discrimination</a> is more important than ever.Leprosy, also known as Hansen’s Disease, is a chronic infectious disease caused by the bacillus Mycobacterium leprae. It mainly affects the skin and peripheral nerves and is one of the oldest diseases in human history. Yet each year, around 200,000 new cases are reported globally.In Nepal, 2,304 new cases were reported in 2020 and it is one of 23 countries on the WHO’s priority list for leprosy. Most cases are found in Madhes Province bordering India.Today an effective treatment exists in the form of multidrug therapy (MDT) and with early detection and treatment, the disease can be cured without complications. But if treatment is delayed, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=39#.YfYl-S2B2b8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">leprosy can cause progressive impairment</a> and lead to permanent disability.There are an estimated 3-4 million people living with some form of disability due to leprosy. This fact, together with deep-seated fears and misperceptions about this age-old disease, has subjected persons affected by leprosy and even their family members to severe discrimination, which continues to this day.Since becoming WHO Goodwill Ambassador for Leprosy Elimination in 2001, I have visited some 120 countries to see the situation for myself. This has led me to think of leprosy in terms of a motorcycle: the front wheel symbolises curing the disease, and the back wheel represents eliminating discrimination. Unless both wheels are turning together, we will not reach our ultimate goal of zero leprosy.As regards to the front wheel, efforts against the disease, including new case detection, have been badly disrupted by the spread of the novel coronavirus and efforts to prevent transmission. In 2020, the number of new cases reported was down to 37% year on year, according to the WHO, largely due to the impact of Covid-19.Concerning the rear wheel, I have worked hard to have leprosy recognised internationally as a human rights issue since the early 2000s, when I first approached the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights. One result has been the adoption in 2010 of a UN General Assembly on elimination of discrimination against <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15213#.YfYl_y2B2b8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">persons affected by leprosy</a> and their family members.But the real measure of success will be when principles and guidelines accompanying the resolution are fully implemented. Because of the pandemic, however, awareness-raising efforts in many areas have stalled, and some people have found that Covid-19 is exacerbating the discrimination they already experience as persons affected by leprosy.This is why last August I launched a <a href="https://www.shf.or.jp/en/dont-forget-leprosy-campaign/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">campaign called ‘Don't Forget Leprosy’</a> to ensure that leprosy and the needs of those affected by the disease are not overlooked, even amid the pandemic. The campaign stresses the importance of early detection and treatment, as well as the need to eliminate stigma and discrimination.The term 'don't forget' covers many things: that leprosy still exists, that people affected by leprosy and their families still face social prejudice, and that there are healthcare professionals doing their best in difficult circumstances to provide needed services.In Nepal, a country I have visited many times over the years, what has impressed me has been the strong cooperation I have found between the <a href="http://mohp.gov.np/eng/program/communicable-disease/leprosy-control-program" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ministry of Health and Population</a> and leprosy NGOs. They make the most of their respective strengths and complement each other’s efforts, and in this way have helped to advance measures against leprosy throughout the country.Working in partnership with the ministry’s leprosy control program, <a href="https://tlmnepal.org/blog/anandaban-hospital/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Anandaban Hospital</a> near Kathmandu, Lalgadh Leprosy Hospital &amp; Services Center in Janakpur and the Green Pastures Hospital in Pohkara provide both medical and social support. They provide treatment and rehabilitation, and assist with reintegration into the community.I would also like to give a mention to the leprosy center established in Surkhet with the support of the Sasakawa Health Foundation, operated with the dedicated effort of local people and contributing to community medical care.Nepal has also pioneered a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/new-treatment-offers-hope-for-nepals-leprosy-patients/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">revolutionary treatment for leprosy wounds</a> saving money and prolonged pain for the patients. The technique called Leukocyte Platelet Rich Fibrin (LPRF) originally devised for dental surgery accelerates the healing of tissue and is now being used widely in the country to treat hard-to-heal skin lesions of diabetes and leprosy patients.Over the past 50 years we have come a long way toward our goal of a world free from leprosy and the discrimination it causes. We must not allow the progress we have made to be undone by the impact of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/omnipresent-omicron-starts-to-lose-its-edge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>.Together with my annual Global Appeal and the activities that partner organisations will be carrying out for World Leprosy Day this year, I hope it will put the disease back in the spotlight and show that our work to end the medical and social problems related to leprosy is not yet done.Please add your voice to the campaign and make this a collective effort. Together we can be heard loud and clear: “Don’t Forget Leprosy.”Yohei Sasakawa is WHO Goodwill Ambassador for Leprosy Elimination as well as the Japanese Government Goodwill Ambassador for the Human Rights of Persons Affected by Leprosy. He is the chair of The Nippon Foundation.

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During the pandemic, don’t forget leprosy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJLBI7sim0M&amp;feature=youtu.beA revolutionary treatment for open wounds has dramatically reduced the healing period of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=711#.XSckw-szaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">leprosy patients in Nepal</a>, saving them money and prolonged pain. The new procedure has huge implications internationally, as it reduces the medical cost for treating patients with chronic open wounds.The technique, called Leukocyte Platelet Rich Fibrin (LPRF), was <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6089057/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">devised for dental surgery</a> by Nelson Pinto of Chile and has proven to accelerate the healing of tissue. Now, it is also being used to treat hard-to-heal skin lesions of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/diabetes-in-south-asia,3018" target="_blank" rel="noopener">diabetes</a> and leprosy patients.“LPRF has shown miraculous results in the treatment of chronic wounds in Nepal,” says dental surgeon Sushil Koirala who is pushing the new treatment in government hospitals. “It does not need special equipment, is cheap and, so simple even paramedics and nurses can perform it.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4f009c7e80680e04fce5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>SECOND CHANCE: Surgeon Indra Bahadur Napit guides a paramedic during a session of LPRF on a patient with leprosy at Anandaban Hospital. Pic: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>There are three specialised leprosy hospitals in Nepal: Ananadaban in Lele, Green Pastures in Pokhara, and Lalgadh in Dhanusa. Anandaban Leprosy Hospital 16 km south of Kathmandu has been trying out LPRF on patients with excellent results.Leprosy is a biblical disease in which bacteria called Mycobacterium leprae damages the patient’s nerves and causes the fingers, toes and limbs to go numb, leading to further injuries. Leprosy is treated with antibiotics, but some patients suffer antigen reaction and need long-term rehabilitation.One of the patients at Anandaban is Phelit Sahi, who was ostracised by her community in Jumla because she had leprosy and had been living in a cave for 25 years. Reporters who had gone to cover a local event in a helicopter found out about her, and flew her to Kathmandu for treatment.Every week, doctors draw 80cc of blood from her and place it in a special centrifuge for 12 minutes. The clear plasma separates from the red corpuscles and is compressed to form a high-density fibrin clot which is applied to her wound.“She is among more than 100 patients that we have treated with LPRF, and we have gained enough experience in this technique to lead the way for the world,” says surgeon Indra Bahadur Napit at Anandaban, who presented his results at WHO in Geneva.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4f039c7e80680e04fce6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Raju Lama was 27 when he was diagnosed with leprosy, but because of late diagnosis, his fingers and toes were deformed, and he had to abandon his job. Doctors recommended amputating his right leg, but became the first patient to get LPRF treatment. He is happy with his “ragat upachar” (blood treatment) and says after several LPRF procedures his wounds are healing much faster.Ram Kumari Sah and her husband from Janakpur have been living with leprosy for decades. She does not feel pain in her hands and legs and often hurts herself. Her lesions become infected and never healed. This week, she was waiting for her turn at the LPRF ward in Anandaban.The hospital’s LPRF pilot study has shown that 97% of the cases healed completely within seven weeks. The results are so encouraging that news of this revolutionary treatment has spread through word of mouth. A dozen patients, currently at Anandaban were referred by hospitals in India. A team of Nepali doctors is also training doctors in Burma, Bangladesh and Nigeria.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4f069c7e80680e04fce7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1003"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The new treatment is expected to add to Nepal’s success in reducing the prevalence of leprosy from 21 cases per 10,000 in the 1980s to less than 1 today. Nepal was officially declared leprosy-free in 2010 when the prevalence rate came down to 0.79%.However, in recent years, the prevalence rate is creeping up again, and was 0.94% in 2018. More than 3,000 new patients are diagnosed with leprosy every year, with most of the cases found in Province 2. Experts say this could be a result of active case finding and may not mean that the prevalence is increasing.Leprosy is curable with multidrug therapy but many do not get treatment on time. The incubation period is five years on average and symptoms may occur within a year, but can also take as long as 30 years to become visible, making the disease difficult to diagnose, and the delay leads to nerve damage and deformities. Leprosy is transmitted through the air during close and frequent contact with untreated cases.“Leprosy can afflict anyone but there is a correlation between the disease and poverty,” explains dermatologist Mahesh Shah. “If one’s immune system is strong, the bugs do not do any damage. But poor hygiene and nutrition increases susceptibiltity. Neglected people from neglected countries suffer from leprosy the most.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4f0a9c7e80680e04fce8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1169"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Up to 40% of patients undergoing multidrug treatment develop a reaction, and need long-term hospitalisation. Since the patients are poor, most private hospitals are not interested in treating them. At Anandaban, treatment is free as it is supported by government grants and charities.Since 1% of cases suffer from relapse in Nepal, active door-to-door case finding is important to meet the WHO target of zero leprosy transmission by 2030.Even more daunting is to counter societal stigma and ostracisation of leprosy patients. Family members regard the disease as punishment from the gods, and even some medical interns and nurses refuse to touch patients despite patients being on antibiotics and unable to spread the disease. Nepal’s laws still allow husbands to divorce their wives if they have leprosy.“It is a complicated disease made even more so by stigma and ignorance,” says Napit, “but with LPRF, we now have a powerful weapon in our arsenal. A vaccine would be the final solution, but no one cares about leprosy. All the funding goes for diseases like HIV.”   <h2>Miraculous healing</h2>When Nelson Pinto’s favourite horse broke its leg, he had two options: either put it down or amputate its leg. The Chilean dentist decided on a third option.He drew some blood from the horse, spun it in a centrifuge to separate the autologous fibrin matrix which is rich in platelets, and applied the plasma to the horse’s wound. After a few weeks, the horse was cantering again.Pinto knew about the technique because Leukocyte Platelet Rich Fibrin (LPRF) was developed for dental implant treatment. The surgeon was so convinced that the new process would be useful in treating chronic open wounds that he embarked on a global crusade to spread its use.Pinto convinced fellow-dentist from Nepal, Sushil Koirala, whom he met at an international conference, to adopt the technique. Since then, Koirala has been trying to convince the government and private hospitals to adopt the procedure, but without much success. However, Anandaban Leprosy Hospital in Lalitpur has seen phenomenal improvements in the healing time of lesions among its patients. (See adjoining report above)LPRF is now used to treat diabetic wounds, lesions caused by leprosy, localised <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/burning-in-the-aftermath,3757" target="_blank" rel="noopener">burns</a> and surgical wounds, and with this, healing time is often cut in half. It is also being used in cosmetic surgery to remove wrinkles and rejuvenate the skin. The reason why it is so effective, Pinto explained during a trip to Nepal last month, is because it is completely natural and autologous, which means a patient is not receiving any foreign tissues or chemicals.And the treatment is cheap. A similar treatment used in Europe, which involves a kit manufactured by a multinational pharmaceutical company, costs $3,000 per patient. LPRF costs only $30. But it seems as though private hospitals are not interested in this treatment as patients heal so quickly. Many doctors are also not enthusiastic because LPRF can be administered by a paramedic or a nurse.Says Sushil Koirala: “The reason they don’t like it is because there is no money in it. LPRF only uses the patient’s blood and there are no chemicals or equipment involved for multinational companies to make money out of.”Koirala’s Punyaarjan Foundation has donated centrifuge machines to a few hospitals in Nepal including the Sushma Koirala Memorial in Sankhu, Anandaban Leprosy Hospital, Bir Hospital in Kathmandu and to three hospitals in Burma with varying degrees of acceptance.The Bible relates how Jesus Christ miraculously and instantaneously cured ten lepers at the gates of Jerusalem. LPRF may not cure leprosy lesions as quickly, but the procedure is nearly as miraculous.<h2>Life after leprosy</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4f0d9c7e80680e04fce9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kumar Tamang, 47, is putting the final touches on his painting of an elephant with a bejewelled crown and a howdah. He dips his paintbrush on a palate and paints the border bright red. His fingers are numb and deformed by leprosy, yet he has been painting for 25 years. His love for Mithila art is on full display on the walls, pillars and ceiling of Shanti Sewa Griha, a leprosy clinic set up by the German charity, Leprahilfe, in 1992.Nearby, in a dark corner, is 50-year-old Nathuni Barai from Nawalparasi, who also has deformed fingers which he uses deftly to draw intricate patterns on a letter pad. Both Tamang and Barai are former patients at <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15213#.XSckyeszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shanti Sewa Griha,</a> making a livelihood from products that Leprahilfe buys from fundraising. Their families live nearby, and their children attend a school set up by the charity.Now, nearly three decades after the clinic was set up, Shanti Sewa Griha runs a school and orphanage in Budhanilkantha, an organic farm in Sundarijal and a rehabilitation centre near Pashupati.As the number of patients grew, they were trained in painting, tailoring, quilt making, carpentry and jewellery making as a form of livelihood. Bags, uniforms, paintings, stationery and decorative items are sold as souvenirs to raise money for the upkeep of the shelters and to pay former patients.“This is a form of operational therapy which tries to break the vicious circle this disease has formed,” said Marianne Grosspietsch, one of the founders of Leprahilfe. “Our goal is to create hope in Nepal.”In 1974, Grosspietsch adopted a young boy named Puskar Limbu who had leprosy like the rest of his family. She took the boy to her home in Germany, treated his leprosy and sent him to school. Limbu went on to pursue a successful career in graphic design in Germany and is a grandfather himself today.Children of former leprosy patients have also gone on to become nurses and doctors.Kalpana Pariyar (pictured above) was 14 when she was diagnosed with leprosy before there was serious nerve damage to her fingers. She grew up in the shelter and married fellow-patient Krishna Majhi, whom she took care of until he died eight years ago. She now has a college going daughter and an eight-year-old son.“I have spent my entire life here. This is my home, this is where I made my life and found peace,” says Pariyar, looking up from her sewing machine on which she was weaving dhaka fabric.Sonia Awale

Sonia Awale

New treatment offers hope for Nepal’s leprosy patients

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

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Lumbini gets the lion’s share

My father’s son

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