The sense of sight is front, centre, and everywhere else as hundreds of eyes follow visitors while they move from one painting to the next at Nikhil Bahadur Shakya’s ongoing exhibition at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Shakya has used blank canvases as well as partially-done thangka and paintings as a base for more than 50 works on display. The exhibit takes visitors beyond the physical world into a surreal spiritual realm. Shakya strips the human body down to muscle, tendon, networks of nerves, and skeleton. But all the while, eyes are a constant presence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Artist Nikhil Bahadur Shakya with a visitor.</figcaption> </figure>  The central theme is self-reflection and the journey from one’s outward to inward self, and the works offer a glimpse into the artist’s world of mindfulness.&nbsp; Shakya grew up watching his artisan grandfather design jewellery, which he says cultivated in him an interest for art. During the Covid-19 pandemic, confronted by the fragility of life and the stark reality of death, his art took an introspective turn. The paintings have splashes of neon yellow, pink, red, orange, green, and gold, and Shakya combines them with black and white to create the human body, sunflowers, geometrical shapes, and the cosmos — turning these motifs into elements of devotion and spirituality. In Wheel of Life, Shakya adds to an incomplete thangka, contrasting traditional Buddhist devotional imagery with contemporary mosaic art to create a demon holding on to a wheel with a yin and yang symbol.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Wheel of Life (centre)</figcaption> </figure>  “I wanted to reflect the elements of life and the balance of good and bad in this painting,” explains Shakya. “I took a lot of time to complete this particular piece, but it felt as though my vision flowed out of the brush onto the canvas.” The neon colours used means that visitors can see his artwork under blue light as well, giving viewers a chance to look at a single artwork from two different perspectives. His Sunflower series draws from a field of blossoms, and the eyes stare back at visitors in an almost-hypnotic gaze. In An Ancestral Visit, Shakya goes transcendental to depict the connection of living beings to their forebears.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1431" loading="lazy" alt="sunflower painting"> </figure>  “In my father’s last days, he was unwell and often unable to eat, it left his body very frail,” explains Shakya. “An Ancestral Visit was inspired by a dream in which I saw my father as his former healthy self. That dream made me feel deeply connected to my ancestors.” In another one of his works titled Devotion, a woman prays to a Shivalinga against a background of red-and-white stripes, which was inspired by the tradition of women being at the forefront during religious and spiritual ceremonies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="devotion"> <figcaption>Devotion</figcaption> </figure>  In Sunyata, which shows a skeletal figure meditating as they are surrounded by flames, Shakya captures the chaos of the outside world with peace of the inner self. Shakya was compelled to create Sunyata when he saw a monk, his body thin and face gaunt, meditating peacefully. “Many viewers might find the painting frightening, but when they take it home, I think it will give them strength whenever they feel like they need it,” says Shakya. The exhibit also includes a gigantic painting of Masan Bhairav spread across two canvases, capturing the majesty of the original work housed at Banepa’s Chandeswori Temple. Shakya met the artist who painted it, and asked to reproduce it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Geometric figures are another recurring motif on Shakya’s creations, which he says were inspired by mathematics textbooks from his school days. He says, “Art channels the strength of our minds and brings about change in our lives. My paintings reflect the fact that we are all made up of some madness, magic, and love.” Journey to a Visionary Artworld by Nikhil Bahadur Shakya Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Till 6 April 11AM-5PM

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In the mind's eye

We often see ourselves reflected in the other. For someone who grew up in Kathmandu Valley in the eighties and nineties, this maxim comes alive with an even greater force. Nepal’s media ecosystem was dismal, the school curriculum was narrow and did not provide opportunities for creative expression. Perhaps that is why I became obsessed with MTV videos and Bollywood films. I saw my developing self reflected in these story-lines and razzmatazz. When the media and education system do not engage the public and reflect myriad interests, aspirations and lifestyles of the population, citizens get detached and disconnected from their roots. I left for America for further studies, and was somewhat determined to never return to Nepal. It was a country full of potholes and black-outs. But foreigners have been fascinated with our country for decades. In the early 19th century, Francis Buchanan-Hamilton led a pioneering expedition and documented more than a thousand species of plants native to the region. Almost a century later, in 1905, Frenchman Sylvan Levi published ‘the first attempt to produce a comprehensive study of Nepal’, drawing on not just indigenous but available Chinese and European sources as well. After Nepal opened up in the 1950s, different kinds of foreigners have traveled here -- most notably, cold-war era spies disguised as diplomats, and later came the hippies. I returned to Nepal in 2013 and was primarily struck by two major demographics - the artists and the expats. Energised by the recent revolution, the creatives were making vibrant, powerful works. The expats, on the other hand, demonstrated a different way to navigate life in Kathmandu Valley. These two groups of people re-introduced Nepal to me and I began seeing my country and my hometown with a renewed perspective. Which is why one particular image from Giovanna Caruso’s ongoing show at the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank">Kalā</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank"> Salon</a> curated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/facades-and-flowers-from-nepal-to-italy" target="_blank">Sophia L Pandé</a> instantly caught my attention -- rather, it called out to me, as if it was composed for me, framing a key moment from my own life. Its title is, coincidentally, 2013. Like most of her other works, the pen-and-ink drawing is punctuated by an explosion of watercolour: a woman standing confidently in front of a Newa-style house, a leg arched up, as if she is fixing a strap around an ankle before stepping out on an adventure. The watercolour depicts a rainbow streaming out of a pot through a second-floor window. The rest of the details are rendered in realism – clusters of garlic and onion hanging to dry from the rafters, and further down a stack of corn. There are towels drying, even an old water pump.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="art review Kala Salon"> </figure>  When I walked over to this artwork with Caruso, she chuckled, “Ah, this work is a celebration of my 30 years in Nepal.” It was while trying to calm a restless group of students during her teaching days in Italy that Caruso first came across an iconic image of Kathmandu Darbar Square. She had found an old box of slides and while projecting images from the Himalaya to engage her students, the artist was determined to travel to Nepal. The first flat she rented was close to the square and the view from her rooftop was the same as the one she had encountered inside her classroom. She has been traveling to Nepal every year since. Some of her favourite drawings depict Khokana in morning fog. From 1993-2006, she drew murals at Ram Mandir and Pashupatinath, asking sadhus to guide her and correct her depictions. Caruso received a classical education, which means she was trained to focus on perspective and geometry while capturing mainly portraits and still lives. She is influenced by M C Escher and his explorations of mathematics and symmetry. No wonder she finds the Darbar Square architecture so compelling. She also names as inspiration Gustave Dore, whose style is different from Escher’s and I can see how she has fused these influences in her body of work: Escher’s austerity complimented and slightly dislodged by Dore’s comics and caricatures. “Before starting, the painting needs to be complete in my mind,” she explains as we pass a series of portraits titled Saraswati, Lakshmi, Kali Dancing, and Durga dominated by a roaring tiger. “These are all real people, I ask my friends and family members to sit for me.” The Kali in the drawing has the artist’s fiery copper red hair and she is dancing, surrounded by various men with flowing hair. The artist seems to have experimented here, drawing the revelers from above, and indulging in playful abandon. Depictions of Nepal are often in danger of being exoticised. But Caruso is familiar with her subjects, knows our alleys and temples intimately. Her colours and compositions are passionate and dense. In an essay, Anirudh S Chari writes the artist’s work is splashed with rapturous energy and most drawings have a carnivalesque element. ‘Kali Dancing’ illustrates this idea perfectly in that she has turned Kali’s usual fearsome portrayal on its head by depicting and embracing another feminine principle - the capacity to celebrate and create joy. Apart from drawing inspiration from Hindu goddesses and Nepal’s multi-colored rituals, Caruso has also drawn the Sumerian Ianna and Lillith and the Egyptian Nut. She enjoys drawing Nataraja, and says it is because “Shiva is a good husband”. We stand another painting titled 100 Days a Lion. “There is a saying in Italian, Better one day as a lion than a hundred days as a sheep, but I thought why not 100 Days a Lion?” This sentiment captures this nomadic artist’s spirit spanning four decades, in which she has captured urban energy as well as the sacred imagery of ‘life diaries on canvas’. From Venezia to Kathmandu and Journeys In Between Giovanna Caruso The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre Mall, Thamel Till 12 December 10am- 8pm

Looking at Nepal from Venice

Intricately painted Buddha, Aryatara, Krishna, and Parvati gaze serenely at visitors at the Kathmandu Art Gallery under muted amber lights. Moving from one artful devotion to the next, a quiet, profound connection to the divine envelopes the visitor. This transcends art to the realm of the spiritual. &nbsp; The gallery’s latest exhibition, Masters of Devotion, features art by 22 artists all from Bhaktapur. They also include Ajay Karmacharya, Purna Prasad Hyoju, Nhuche Kaji Bajracharya, Rajani Sinkhwal, Shashi Dhar Sainju, Surya Bahadur Chitrakar and Sundar Sinkhwal from the Khowpa Paubha Chowmi Pucha. Paubha are religious and devotional art depicting deities and mandala that date back to the 7th century, when Newa artists began to paint images of the gods on cloth. For the artists who practice this craft, the art form is as meditative as it is meticulous.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art review "> </figure>  The exhibition at the newly-opened space Kathmandu Art Gallery coincides with the festival season and is a collection of extravagant works done in mineral and stone colour, sakura and gouache. The vintage art space is located at Babar Mahal Revisited and is a fitting accompaniment to the paubha featured in the exhibit.&nbsp; Sundar Sinkhwal’s vividly painted Harihara is among the more eye-catching works. “Half of the painting is Shiva and half is Vishnu, hence the name Harihar,”explains Sinkhwal. “Together with their consorts Parvati and Laxmi, I have painted Uma-Maheswor and Laxmi-Narayan.” Nandi and Garuda, the vehicles of the two gods, complete the vibrant painting.&nbsp; In contrast, for his piece titled Lakshmi, Sinkhwal shrouds his canvas in dark colours to paint Kuber, the deity revered as the custodian to the wealth in the Hindu pantheon, accompanied by two khyak apparitions —one black, the other white— both mythical creatures in Newari folklore.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  “The black khyak is considered inauspicious, while white ones are a symbol of good luck,” explains Sinkhwal. Purna Prasad Hyoju has used mineral paint on canvas for a powerful depiction of Ardhanareswar, the composite form of Shiva and his consort Parvati.&nbsp; “I drew inspiration from the Newari Swasthani story about the separation of Shiva and Satidevi,” says Hyoju. Legend has it that Shiva, unwilling to part from his consort, reincarnated as a unified dual gender form of himself and Parvati. Hyoju has painted goddess Parvati in bright yellow, in homage to one of her other manifestations, Gauri, which means radiant.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Ratna Gopal Sinkhwal’s Kurkula Devi, done in stone pigment, is radiant on the cotton canvas. “Kurkula Devi is a tantric goddess whose traces are found in the Sadhana Mala,” says Sinkhwal. “The stone pigment is what makes the goddess look like she is gleaming.” One of Sinkhwal’s other works draws from stories in the Mahabharat to depict Bhimsen, Draupadi, Dushasan and Akash Bhairav in confrontation, expressions fierce.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="854" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  The opening of the exhibition last week also featured a music session, during which some of the artists sang traditional songs. Their voices joined the rhythm of the madal and melody of the harmonium, adding warmth to the crisp autumn evening.&nbsp; Each painstakingly detailed paubha reflects the artists’ devotion to divinity and mythology, as well as their heritage. Masters of Devotion showcases the work of veritable masters of their craft, and is a must-visit for art connoisseurs and devotees alike. Says the gallery’s Sangeeta Rana Thapa: “It is our honour to celebrate the artists’ work—to stand among pieces that embody both devotion and mastery, and to witness a tradition that continues to inspire us.” Masters of Devotion Kathmandu Art Gallery Baber Mahal Revisited Until 22 November

Artful devotion

The Barun trees surrounding Patan’s Agnishala temple are bowed with age — curving over stout brick walls of the temple, its gnarled branches threading through power lines. Rain drips from its glossy green leaves onto the temple courtyard. The trees are said to have existed for as long as the sacred eternal fire has burned in the temple.&nbsp; Botanical illustrator Neera Joshi Pradhan was on a heritage walk through Patan when she saw yellow flowers blanketing the ground, and recalled visiting the temple for puja with her family as a young girl. “I realised that while we look with much awe at Nepal’s temples and architecture, we tend to neglect our natural heritage," Joshi says. “Once that realisation set in, I started sketching them.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_2b0770b0c497ff2dc1277284e5fdbfd9637d697fef2b0e597669eb7fa57bd067.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250622030648_2b0770b0c497ff2dc1277284e5fdbfd9637d697fef2b0e597669eb7fa57bd067" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  In 2021, Joshi had also been invited to the Florence Biennale, and she extended her stay to spend time with family there. Surrounded by the architecture of the city, she was hit by a strong urge to pick up her sketchbook to commit Italy’s historic buildings and vibrant plant life to paper. The results of this interplay of our natural and cultural heritage are currently on exhibit at The Kalā Salon’s From Nepal to Italy: Drawings of Flora &amp; Vernacular Architecture.&nbsp; Joshi’s collection of more than 40 Pen/Ink and Watercolour Drawings are a departure from her signature precise, detailed botanical illustrations. They explore the history, heritage, and indigenous plant life of Kathmandu Valley, but as well as Rome, Florence, and Brixen.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_5941db0a2eabe91022a74284088ef3b698d90e0ced5db9129803e2d4dc14456e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250622030648_5941db0a2eabe91022a74284088ef3b698d90e0ced5db9129803e2d4dc14456e" data-rendition-name="original" width="631" height="854" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  “Neera’s latest collection is a bit different from the botanical illustrations that she is known for, and is a really beautiful project that shows her capabilities as an artist,” says Sophia L Pandé, curator at The Kalā Salon. “Even in her depiction of architecture and heritage, the flora are a constant presence.” Joshi’s artwork include pieces she did during her downtime more than a decade ago, before the thought of painting Nepal’s architecture and flora together had really crossed her mind.&nbsp; One such painting from 2013 includes a view of Swayambhu poking out from its surrounding forest, with blue-green hills in the background and the grey-brown concrete of Kathmandu Valley in the foreground, painted from her perch on Kirtipu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_562df6371592ec90e4a342e23d4024efc96e7e651315fd13fa196acf34ad1868.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250622030648_562df6371592ec90e4a342e23d4024efc96e7e651315fd13fa196acf34ad1868" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  Her more recent works from 2023 include pen/ink watercolours of monkeys playing beneath the shade of a Mayal Tree in Swayambhu, the Barun trees at Agnimath, and Panyu trees with their soft pink blossoms swaying in the breeze. In Italy, Joshi walked along cities sketchbook in hand, admiring the view and stopping at public benches and gardens whenever inspiration struck. Her drawings are serene explorations of everyday life in Italy — people walking through cobblestone alleys or sitting in contemplation in public parks, combined with sweeping landscapes of the country’s architecture.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_1e31fc25bbfc9732a2b36ac06d83f765665d2ac63d557d5df467426e4406095f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250622030648_1e31fc25bbfc9732a2b36ac06d83f765665d2ac63d557d5df467426e4406095f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  In one painting from Italy, titled Balcony, Brixen, the veranda painted in faded brown with its pen and ink detailing of the intricate railings, is reminiscent of Kathmandu Valley’s Newari architecture.&nbsp; “Seeing the balcony took me right back home,” says Joshi. And even when buildings and architecture take up much of the portraits, the plant life is striking. Joshi has captured Supari trees towering over Patan Museum, ivy trailing up the soft yellow façade of a house in Brixen, pink flowers blooming in window boxes along a canal in Venice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_28fcd3c9ac3f928451e3c26355514c6828cdf94263a56c32c110a82c7572bd52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250622030648_28fcd3c9ac3f928451e3c26355514c6828cdf94263a56c32c110a82c7572bd52" data-rendition-name="original" width="637" height="871" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  Joshi’s attention to detail allows viewers to identify some native plants like the Barun tree flowers in Patan and sweet chestnut native to Italy.&nbsp; Joshi is perhaps the only botanical illustrator in Nepal, and &nbsp;her detailed, vibrant drawings &nbsp;balance scientific accuracy with artistic expression to document and preserve Nepal's native plants. Her exhibition is also accompanied by a colouring book with botanical art.&nbsp; “As we increasingly face natural disasters and the effects of the climate crisis, it is even more crucial to recognise our indigenous flora and save them,” says Joshi.&nbsp; She wants the public to be able to access some of this knowledge so that young people are at least able to identify plant life around them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250622030648_f974188e16945a659c28702b357c2bc36aff753bc5606f0453417f897a641805.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250622030648_f974188e16945a659c28702b357c2bc36aff753bc5606f0453417f897a641805" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Façades and Flowers from Nepal and Italy NT"> </figure>  “This is what I am able to do from my side, but there needs to be institutional and policy-level attention to native plant knowledge and conservation,” Joshi says. Adds Pandé: “We are very happy to have released her book as an accompaniment to the exhibition. I hope this is the beginning of something much larger to document and conserve our native plant life.” &nbsp; From Nepal to Italy: Drawings of Flora &amp; Vernacular Architecture By Neera Joshi Pradhan Curated by Sophia L. Pandé Until 6 July 11AM - 8PM The Kalā Salon, Chhaya Center, Thamel

Shristi Karki

Façades and flowers from Nepal to Italy

Global temperature increase is nearing 1.5°C since pre-industrial times, pushing the planet close to irreversible climate tipping points. The Himalayan region is warming even faster than the global average. The exhibition At the Tipping Point: Art and Ecology from the Rooftop of the World seeks to bring the climate emergency into focus, showing that it is not a distant threat, but a present reality reshaping the natural world around us. The exhibition at Taragaon Next features work from 12 artists, including Amit Machamasi, Chris Jordan, Himali Singh Soin, Joana Moll, Maksud Ali Mondal, Monica Ursina Jäeger, Robertina Sebjanic, Salil Subedi, Samyukta Bhandari, Saurganga Darshandhari, Ursula Biemann and Utsa Hazarika.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_dcdda5b774c21e7f4d2a7e2182aa37a627ebd18f2733491689589d65d287ad82.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250617150624_dcdda5b774c21e7f4d2a7e2182aa37a627ebd18f2733491689589d65d287ad82" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Amit Machamasi’s Not the Same Anymore, The Irony, and Seeds and Tools</figcaption> </figure>  They highlight the strategic location of Nepal and call for a ‘fundamental rethinking of the ecological imagination- where the local and the global, the visible and the invisible, the scientific and the spiritual converge’ though photographs, paintings, multimedia visuals and sounds. “The world will wake up when you say Everest, it is an important barometer to look at ecology, especially that of Nepal,” says curator Arshiya Lokhandwala from India. “The idea was to look at not only local but global issues as well.”&nbsp; The exhibition began on 5 June with powerful performance art titled Earth Emergence by Salil Subedi who falls from the back of a tractor trailer filled with wet red clay. Amidst sounds of gongs and singing bowls, the audience is taken into a journey of Mother Earth as Subedi approaches what appears to be Mount Meru.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_965e76bb3c322fc8915428ce168e7ef4419e73be744bb7427e8970cd3a2514db.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250617150624_965e76bb3c322fc8915428ce168e7ef4419e73be744bb7427e8970cd3a2514db" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Salil Subedi's Earth Emergence. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption> </figure>  Chris Jordan's Midway: Message from the Gyre and Albatross was eight years in the making and depicts the stark fallout from environmental degradation. His eerie images of dead baby albatrosses covered in plastic waste serve as a powerful critique of globalised consumerism. Samyukta Bhandari’s Echoes of Survival addresses the plight of sparrows amidst urban noise. The exhibits consist of a labyrinth of exposed wiring, ceramic sparrow figurines and mirrors, representing the friction for coexistence between sparrows and humans. The mirrors with the sparrow figures symbolise the sparrows colliding with windows.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_09ba776a03042e47faa97d3ba2cecf7d4adf88b04f02461ff1edd1ba2a488671.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250617150624_09ba776a03042e47faa97d3ba2cecf7d4adf88b04f02461ff1edd1ba2a488671" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Maksud Ali Mondal’s Fungal Habitat presents a self-sustaining ecosystem through the life cycle of a mushroom. As the audience moves through the exhibit, the scent of fungi permeates, underscoring the fact that decay and renewal are a part of life. The Newa traditions of food, harvest, and communal bonds is the highlight of Yomari wo Yomha ji and Grain of Gold by Saurganga Darshandhari. Says the artist, “In Newari tradition, Yomari is made of rice flour, and the grains are grown from the soil. Hence, linkage with the earth is established. These traditions are passed on from one generation to another, and the sweet delicacy is usually made by women, so I tried to create happiness through cooking and linking it to yomari, and the bird, so that she can fly as free as a bird."  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250617150624_df04d076e834c362b00ba17aa0b71988a22b941b35ee0ba7ee9ed0f7cda27cb0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250617150624_df04d076e834c362b00ba17aa0b71988a22b941b35ee0ba7ee9ed0f7cda27cb0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Himalayan tipping points NT"> <figcaption>Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption> </figure>  Such communal bonds are very much tied with the land and harvest, but rapid and haphazard urbanisation has had much adverse impact, as Amit Machamasi’s Not the Same Anymore, The Irony, and Seeds and Tools portray. What were once farmlands are now being plundered and plotted to give way to unplanned and disastrous development. “There must be development, roads must be expanded, but not at the cost of nature,” says Machamasi, as he explains one of the other photographs on display: “The small crow was photographed when the tree that it was residing on was cut off for development.” Our misguided approach to development has a dire impact on the overall ecology, from heat stress in the Tarai to the drying of natural springs in the hills to receding glaciers in the mountains.&nbsp; At the Tipping Point: Art and Ecology from the Rooftop of the World Until 31 August 10:00AM to 5:30PM Taragaon Next Hyatt Regency premises

Himalayan tipping points

Journalism as a form of communication is limited by its format and style. After all, it is history in a hurry. Fiction tries to transcend this, and novels are sometimes turned into movies to get the message across more urgently about the human condition. Poetry goes beyond words and employs sonic language to dig deeply into our innermost feelings. Art takes visual cues to go beyond even poetry. But it is often art for art’s sake. Actually, art is a pure form of communication. Only art can reach the subconscious in us to explore existence and expression. Which is what Mukhiya Samridh and Subesh KC are trying to get across to us with their joint exhibition of installations and paintings in WHOARE.YOU at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Subesh KC is a Norway-based artist who is obsessed with how language determines who we are, how we perceive and are perceived. We take words and sentences as a given, the linguistic codes tumbling out from the recesses of our brain and we spout and write words without thinking. KC deconstructs language into a series of paintings ‘We Simply Find Ourselves Here’ with stylised human forms in a backdrop that looks like gibberish – random imaginary hieroglyphics. The underlying message could be that the written language is just a phonetic code of what is spoken, which in turn encrypts our thoughts, feelings and communicates them imperfectly. WHOARE.YOU is not a question, it is an answer. But visitors are not given answers in a platter, each has to find their own meaning and interpretation. Artists are not required to explain the meaning of their work, but we ask KC anyway. “I am trying to investigate the links between language and our perception of reality, using asemic letters and abstraction to question how language determines our understanding of the self,” he says. KC has partnered with Mukhiya Samridh for this exhibition and has two joint works on display. The most striking is ‘Status Quo’ -- an installation with 1,500 nails hammered into an off-white board and arranged in a sine curve running across like a graph.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250127130128_4f8399e6a907b404a34a6dbc6d3fe12b7b4014ea737f5d44316bdbb1771b49ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250127130128_4f8399e6a907b404a34a6dbc6d3fe12b7b4014ea737f5d44316bdbb1771b49ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="WHOARE.YOU art review"> <figcaption>Status Quo</figcaption> </figure>  “This is the cycle of consciousness,” explains Mukhiya. “We start from a high point where the ego is dominant, then we find out we are not so smart after all, and only after that lesson in humility do we rise up again to be enlightened. And all the time society is trying to hammer in any nail that sticks out.” Mukhiya is the son of artist Tekbir Mukhiya who has designed over 4,000 covers of Nepali books, many of them in wood blocks, in a career spanning five decades. Samridh has obviously inherited some of the abstract ways of expression from his versatile father. Samridh and Subesh went their separate ways from Nepal and came together again last year for this exhibition of conceptual work, and took five months to hammer out the main message which is an inquiry into who we are. And as visitors move from one exhibit to the next, they are left to also ponder: Who am I? Why am I? What am I? Where am I going after this? Samridh’s installations have a bleached faded look with no colours to distract us from the message. In a series called Nepali Time, just the second hand of clocks tick noisily reminding us also of the temporal dimension. While exploring concepts of language, consciousness, illusion and freedom, the collaborative exhibition has a thread running through it: the question of identity. Not a national or ethnic identity but a sentient identity, a being that is capable of pondering the mystery of its own existence and express it in the language of art. WHOARE.YOU forces us to think about why are we in this world at this time. Kunda Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250127130128_946d7cebeacaf615ae468a1cab597badcc1d75e0161a2aa22ae2eaca1a4519d3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250127130128_946d7cebeacaf615ae468a1cab597badcc1d75e0161a2aa22ae2eaca1a4519d3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1134" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="WHOARE.YOU art review"> </figure>  WHOARE.YOU Till 19 February Siddhartha Art Gallery Baber Mahal Revisited

Communicating existence through art

The art scene in Nepal is witnessing a renaissance, and at the centre of this resurgence is <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/The-world-beyond-thangkas,3139">Tsherin Sherpa</a>, the internationally renowned artist known for his distinctive, and sometimes provocative, fusion of traditional and contemporary. Sherpa has now embarked on a new chapter in his career by returning to Nepal to open <a href="http://www.takpagallery.com/">Takpa</a>, Kathmandu’s newest art gallery strategically located in Lazimpat. ‘Takpa’ is a playful spin on the Buddhist expression of ‘Mitakpa’ which means impermanence. So, Takpa is permanence and for Sherpa this name encapsulates his exploration of the dynamic interplay between the sacred and the secular and reflecting his journey from traditional thangka painting to the unique, hybrid approach he eventually mastered. “Growing up, I never thought I would be an artist. My father was an established thangka painter, and he always wanted to hand over his knowledge to one of the children. For better or worse, it happened to be me,” quips Sherpa who started <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/sacred-survival">painting thangkas</a> at 12.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023083104084_36f4866caba6ddf21f17b1c3ef85a936ef4797b11b3a844db1c95db0ef9fc2ac.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023083104084_36f4866caba6ddf21f17b1c3ef85a936ef4797b11b3a844db1c95db0ef9fc2ac" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Takpa Gallery"> </figure>  But in the late 1990s venerated thangka art was becoming commodified as in tourist souvenir shops. “I was discouraged seeing this, and did not want to follow my father’s footsteps,” recalls Sherpa who enrolled in a computer science course in Taipei and later went to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/us-nepali-art">United States</a> in 1998 to live there for the next 20 years. Away from home, Sherpa needed an emotional outlet which he found in art. He visited museums and exhibitions, and rediscovered the real sacred significance of thangka paintings.&nbsp; Two exhibitions of South Asian and Chinese art pushed him to experiment with traditional techniques like Chinese brush in contemporary art. &nbsp; But Sherpa does not regret his Computer Science degree, in fact it allowed him to integrate technology into his art. He explains, “Computer science actually helped me visualise my work, allowing me to spend less time drawing sketch after sketch. I do one sketch, scan it, work on the computer and finalise it.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023083104084_b7cd3d76c665505d343a523cbb911185159514dde895797dfc984e1f5a95fa37.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023083104084_b7cd3d76c665505d343a523cbb911185159514dde895797dfc984e1f5a95fa37" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Takpa Gallery"> </figure>  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-craft-of-art">Sherpa’s shift</a> from traditional thangka painting has been shaped by encounters with diverse art forms during his time in the United States.&nbsp; For instance, his first experience of painting something non-traditional was a marketing poster for Jamba Juice. This made him realise that he could go beyond the traditional confines to express himself and bridge the gap between older and modern art forms. Sherpa now divides his time between California and Kathmandu and draws inspiration from diverse cross-cultural lifestyles to imbue vitality in his artistic expression.&nbsp; “Your work becomes stagnant if you are just in one place. Travelling allows me to go to new places and learn, so I keep moving,” he says. And yet, each of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/god-and-superman">Sherpa’s works</a> is a visual representation of his heritage. The modernised thangka themes represent his heritage and identity.&nbsp; Collaboration has become a hallmark of Sherpa's artistic approach, and he works with local artisans to develop skills and offer them platforms to exhibit. His tie-up with traditional copper repoussé artists after the 2015 earthquake resulted in exhibitions spanning continents and landing collaborative work at the Rubin Museum in New York. Back in 2018 when he relocated back to Nepal, Sherpa noticed that there were not enough platforms for emerging artists to showcase talent. In 2022, Nepal participated in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-pavilion-afloat-in-venice">Venice Biennale</a> for the first time, where Sherpa collaborated with many local artists, sculptors and installations, providing them with the exposure they deserved.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023083104084_961a0d2fecc3aecf134463af308fbddefbb83b781d025d46de32c2532b455128.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2023083104084_961a0d2fecc3aecf134463af308fbddefbb83b781d025d46de32c2532b455128" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Takpa Gallery"> </figure>  Takpa is an extension of this collaboration with Nepali artists, which comes after <a href="https://windhorseartgallery.com/">Windhorse Gallery in Jhamsikhel</a> which he also had a hand in opening three years ago. Takpa is currently showing artist Pooja Duwal’s first solo art exhibition Stranger Is a Friend.&nbsp; Takpa also showcases Tsherin Sherpa’s work from time to time, but the artist says his main intention is to help Nepali artists.&nbsp; “I am more visible internationally and I want to use that opportunity to create a platform for other emerging artists so they get more visibility,” he says.&nbsp; Sherpa also has a non-profit, the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HimalyanARTinitiative/">Himalayan Art Initiative</a> that provides training to young artists in Nepal teaching both traditional thangka painting as well as contemporary art styles.&nbsp; He says, “If there is potential, we showcase the work at our gallery and then internationally. It all comes back to not letting art die.” Strangers no more With an array of both large and small oil on canvas and charcoal created in six months, Pooja Duwal’s exhibition Stranger Is a Friend invites viewers to contemplate the transformation of Bhaktapur.&nbsp; The charcoals are strikingly monochromatic and melancholic, and are a commentary on what Nepal risks losing in its frenzied march to modernity. The portraits depict Duwal’s family members, with her sister as a recurring muse. These alla prima creations exude an immediacy and authenticity.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023083104088_306323233dbbe6603137a258741e36e1d29d19d98c5722573a779ade93b0471a.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2023083104088_306323233dbbe6603137a258741e36e1d29d19d98c5722573a779ade93b0471a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1927" height="1207" loading="lazy" alt="Takpa Gallery"> </figure>  &nbsp;Duwal paints Bhaktapur’s labyrinthine alleys and hidden corners meticulously capturing the mundane yet profoundly meaningful everyday activities: laundry drying a terrace, people sipping tea, reading a newspaper or strolling down by a pond.&nbsp; Stranger is a Friend is a visual documentary of the tangible and intangible threads, and an enduring spirit in life’s fleeting moments. In two pieces, Duwal employs diptychs and triptychs, weaving together narratives that transcend individual frames, drawing viewers to complex connections between specific instances, individuals, and the city itself. Duwal's art serves as a reminder to slow down and savour memories and moments of life as time races by. The paintings offer a haven for contemplation.

Tsherin Sherpa returns home to Takpa

A piece of fabric can take on a dynamic meaning in art, as evidenced by eeSofiya Maharjan’s works currently on display at Dalai La Art Space in Thamel. Viewers are made aware of delicate childhood memories: clutching on to one’s mother’s hem for a sense of security, or perhaps to call, to seek attention, to be invited into a world that is at the outset far from reach for a young child. Maharjan plays not only with her own memory but also that of her mother’s, and this is the central theme of the exhibition Absence Unbothered. Raised by a single mother who left her husband when Maharjan was only eight, she is as inspired by her mother’s nostalgia for her own childhood as she is by how that yearning and the stories told by her mother shaped her own experience growing up.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230423120412_d0550e05cd9d442efbaf847e58bdcd2c4f4343f32bfe68ac615b1183a4056189.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230423120412_d0550e05cd9d442efbaf847e58bdcd2c4f4343f32bfe68ac615b1183a4056189" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Absence Unbothered art review"> </figure>  Maharjan’s works are visually striking and unique in their execution. Using white fabric, stitch and photo transfer, a vision of an absence is rendered to canvas – an absence of a man, a father, and that her mother made sure the children never felt in their lives. The artworks express a profound sense of loss worsened by the patriarchal fist that limits a woman’s choice, freedom and desires, but at their core, they are about an absence that is not present. The absence also gave her brother an opportunity to step up, filling in the role of her father, as shown by ‘Jhin Nima’. The idea had been in the back of Maharjan’s mind for some time, but it did not start to take form until her third year in college when she worked with her family archives. “At the time, I was not entirely sure what the idea looked like concretely,” she recalls, “but it was in the middle of the pandemic and that allowed me a chance to know my mother more intimately.” She began to collect stories of her mamaghar, where she was close with her mother's family. Her mother, too, would tell her and her brother stories of her own childhood in fragments, which then Maharjan would piece together like stitching together a large, colourful tapestry of joys and sorrows, laughter and comfort – almost a precursor to her matured works in the exhibition, where these emotions and stories get concrete shape in objects such as gherwa lamps, karuwa, dalchaa and gha.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042312048_00264e19f39a96d9972efc9af08c3554998ddd0a989f5c23699e9ca3360d1f74.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023042312048_00264e19f39a96d9972efc9af08c3554998ddd0a989f5c23699e9ca3360d1f74" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Absence Unbothered art review"> </figure>  The objects themselves take on a double significance in Absence unbothered. While they are most naturally the tangible connection her mother has with her past, they also speak of another added layer. When her mother left her husband and his family, she had to leave behind many things that she had collected over the years. Some of them were gifts of love from family members while others were fruits of her own hard work. “When I was growing up, many of my friends used to wear their mother’s jewellery and clothes, but that was not possible for me,” says Maharjan. “When I used to ask my mother for her things, she would say, ‘Oh, I left that behind’. She used to miss them but did not have anything from her past with her that she could share with me.” Now, the cousins on her father’s side wear the same jewellery and clothes and seeing this fills her with sadness. Maharjan’s mother now keeps a clothing store in Pinchhen in Lalitpur, she re-collected all that she lost: the cha: cha:, the ghadi. The fabric Maharjan uses is also inspired by clothes she found in the store. “And she worked hard, standing tall and independent, warmly holding us in her arms, and giving us space and peace,” says Maharjan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042312048_4eed148e551efb391e8aeb83934b679e4dda97be6a44f25c60f74ccac4d9df97.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023042312048_4eed148e551efb391e8aeb83934b679e4dda97be6a44f25c60f74ccac4d9df97" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Absence Unbothered art review"> </figure>  This fact is immediately represented by a series of three larger works, which show a mother with her children. Each is faceless and the details are in their clothes, meticulous stitchwork that add depth and an inviting texture. Here, it becomes apparent that the story Maharjan is telling is not just her own but of countless young people who grow up in a similar absence.&nbsp; “There were times when I felt the difference from many of my classmates who grew up in families with fathers,” says Maharjan, who is 26 now. “But not anymore. My mother built a house without a husband and that’s okay. It has brought us closer. I am who I am now because my father was not around.” Absence Unbothered Sofiya Maharjan Dalai La Art Space, Thamel Until 6 May

Ashish Dhakal

Girl, unbothered

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fc09c7e80680e0c2531jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"/>For 19 days in May, artist Sushila Singh followed the Rato Machhindranath chariot, its construction from the ground up.She sat, watching the locals gather material to build the rath and sketched the progress in real time, the chariot taking form in sharp, meticulously sketched black lines.By the time Bunga Dyo Jatra was over, Singh had made 19 drawings, 16 of which will be on display at the upcoming exhibition at the Museum of Nepali Art (MoNA) starting 17 July.Singh came to Pulchok from Baneswor every morning at around 5 before her two children were up.“It was helpful that they didn’t have school then,” she quips. She would work for two to three hours before the sun got too warm, sometimes returning in the evenings to plan where she could sit and work the next day.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fc49c7e80680e0c2532jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1530" height="2000">The series is reminiscent of the chronophotography, the 19th-century photography technique that captured multiple phases of motion, and prompt one to imagine the drawings placed side-by-side and then moved at lightning-speed.The chariot of Bunga Dyo grows before the viewer’s eyes: first the wheels, then the wooden columns. Slowly the storeys add and the skeleton rises. Then comes the outer layer of green Juniper and vines, which look like lines reached out to the heavens.Sketched entirely in pen and ink, the drawings strip the rath off any ostentatiousness, presenting it in its essential form. In the shifting hues of a consistent palette, the audience notices how the shape, size and depth of the lines change according to the light, and where Singh must have sat when she made them.The light is not exactly visible on the canvas, but Singh leaves clues. In one of the drawings, for example, a rope extends, curls and breaks.She explains, “I drew it as it appeared to me when the light hit it from behind.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fc79c7e80680e0c2533jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1333" height="2000">In some ways, the gradual growth in the drawings is also reflective of Singh’s own artistic journey, inviting the viewer to think about the dedicated creative process.Like many artists, she too began drawing at a young age, making hills and mountains in school, and filling in the colours.“I remember I used to make postcards during Guru Purnima and other festivals myself and gift them to my teachers and friends,” she says, but this did not necessarily mean that she knew she wanted to be an artist later in life: in fact, all she was certain about was that she did not want to do a 9-5 job.In 2004, after completing her bachelor’s in accounting, Singh joined Lalit Kala Campus for fine arts without telling anyone.“Even then I did not know what I wanted to do,” she recalls, a wide smile across her face, “but I enjoyed art school very much, and slowly, almost subconsciously, I became an artist.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fca9c7e80680e0c2534jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1313" height="2000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fcd9c7e80680e0c2535jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1322" height="2000">Many art students begin with portraiture, and Singh’s portraits were well-received in her family. Her parents, she recalls, did not force dreams and ambitions upon her. “They were pleased and encouraging,” she says.Then in 2011, she had a successful first solo exhibition at the Nepal Art Council, some pieces from the show will be displayed at MoNA as well.These works are striking for their linework, and also the fact that Singh made the canvases herself, unfolding the paper on a stretcher and then applying three layers of white texture.But Singh’s œuvre is multimedia. She had in 2019 an exhibition showcasing her work on paper and with ceramics, ‘Udaan, Beyond Bounds’.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fd19c7e80680e0c2536jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1334" height="2000">Highlights of the exhibition were the iconic dream-like temple pagodas in black and orange strokes, with oblique finials, as though one were looking up at an exceedingly tall monument –– and earned her a National Award.She repeated the feat in 2021 with her brick installation at Gallery MCube, a section of which will be reproduced at MoNa.She did learn to work with pencil in the beginning, but Singh now prefers to draw directly with pen and ink without outlining. But Singh enjoys this intense artistic experience: “I find that it helps me be more confident, and thoughtful.”Perhaps this is only fitting for an artist whose works reflect long periods of careful thinking and thorough patience, often accompanied by philosophical enquiries. “I am also the kind of person who thinks about where these thoughts come from,” Singh says laughing.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fd59c7e80680e0c2537jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1333" height="2000">She recalls that during her work on the chariot of Bunga Dyo, she found parallels between the structure, the construction, and the different private and public persona of people.“As in the case of the rath, we only ever see the outside, what’s apparent, and very few of us pause to think about what’s hidden,” she says. “After all, the rath cannot stand unless it is one with the people and the people with each other.”The many layers of meanings and musings are characteristic of Singh’s artwork, which become even more pertinent when one realises that no women participate in the construction of the rath, except as spectators or on a specific day when only women pull the chariot from Lagankhel to Thati.In these 16 exquisite drawings, Sushil’s Singh has built her own chariot.The exhibition will take place alongside that of Raj Prakash Man Tuladhar at the Museum of Nepali Art, Thamel 17-30 July 2022.Read more: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">Makers of Machhindranath</a>, Cynthia Choo

Sketching the chariot of the rain god

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222f79c7e80680e0c0328jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1705" height="1279"/><figcaption>Aashma Dangol, "Sir Frog", Oil paint on canvas. All photos: BIKALPA ART CENTRE.</figcaption></figure>Bikalpa Art Centre (BAC) in Pulchok is an interdisciplinary space onto itself. A cosy complex cloistered by low-hanging trees, it has a cafe, workstations, a music stage and a rectangular gallery where the latest pop-up exhibition Monsoon Hymn is underway.Bikalpa means 'alternative' in Nepali, and the gallery features works by artists Aashma Dangol, Sundar Lama, Aditi Sherpa, Anamika Gautam, Devina Joshi, Katyani Rai and Priyanka Singh Maharjan. The exhibition explores the essence of growing up and youth culture in Nepal, alongside documenting their multifaceted inner lives and their surroundings, through photographs, paintings and poetry.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222fb9c7e80680e0c0329jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1382" height="1037"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Among the striking works is ‘Letting Out’, a photographic journey by Devina Joshi through a period of mental exhaustion, looking to find spiritual, emotional and creative outlet for her thoughts and feelings.The picture of feet decorated with ala (red pigment) turns the lens towards the inner child emulating the Kumari. The divine feminine resides in every girl, believes Joshi, and the picture represents a search for the goddess within.Next to it is a photograph of a chair – washed-up, almost, in sepia tones, exuding a profound sense of loneliness and immobility. Pictures speak a thousand words – and this is the case with the other artworks on display as well – and here, the four-legged furniture waits: for company, perhaps, or for meaning. The edges look frayed and fading, and there is also a sense of time trickling away.But even then, the outward motion of expressing or releasing reflects back to one’s interior. Joshi relates life and time in her photographs, and ultimately finds a connection to herself. This act of healing is immediately relatable to the viewer, whether in the solitary chair or in fading footsteps.Healing is indeed a large part of the monsoon, as rains can symbolise the washing down of one’s sorrows and plights. And the many artworks in the exhibition have that quality about them, even when what they represent or depict appear at the outset intimidating and violent.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222fe9c7e80680e0c032ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1382" height="1037"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>For example: Katyani Rai’s ‘The Waves’, ‘Hymn of Death’ and ‘Insomnia’, that form a sequence of varied media where dreams and dismay peek with engaging looks from across the frames. Finding inspiration in her insomnia, Rai experiments with printmaking, charcoal and pain to tell cohesive stories of war-torn realities in deep red, beaked angels of death in black and white, and anxious feet soothed by silvery moths.Elsewhere Aashma Dangol’s triptych ‘Coming of Age’ depicts the creation of self and body autonomy through the classic American bacon and eggs breakfast, each frame zooming into the image of vulnerability that comes with breaking open one’s shell and turning to face the world.Next to it sits the ‘Sir Frog’, its wide eyes and smile – slightly flirtatious and immensely comforting – drawn in the style of portraits of important people. Perhaps this painting is the most obvious connection to monsoon, reminding one of the integral roles the amphibian plays in an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-culture/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">agrarian ecosystem</a> such as Nepal’s.This is the nature of a pop-up exhibition, explains curator Saroj Mahato: “There is no overarching theme: it’s just artists expressing themselves and being promoted.”And this is true of Monsoon Hymns, which was quickly brought together in collaboration with the artists and BAC. The title reflects the in-between season– a period for planting and growth – and the symbolism of new, rising artists showcasing their works here could not be more apt.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637223019c7e80680e0c032bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1889" height="1417"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>And the absence of a rigid theme has allowed an assortment of artists with diverse stories to take their place in the ever-expanding Nepali contemporary art scene.For instance, Anamika Gautam’s cubist ‘Winter in her Palace’ and ‘The Grief’ are captivating medleys of geometric shapes. Here, she depicts the socio-political assessment of gender and mental health in deceptively simple execution with vibrant colours.Priyanka Singh Maharjan’s ‘Home in a City’ is also an example of simple and vibrant series, but here the subjects are entirely different. Evenly spaced thin lines fall from the top of the canvas to the bottom, and in those lines shapes begin to take form, women talking, telling stories, working, participating. In pen and ink, she weaves the tapestries of society, placing women front and centre and depicting the side of our culture and community so often overlooked by the prominent male gaze.Sundar Lama’s sequence of three – ‘Lungs’ – are selectively coloured and paired with poems in Nepali that look at the Covid pandemic and healthcare. Ribs suspended mid-air feature in the three frames, as symbols of protection or prisons, together with clouds, floating hands, and a quiet <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-long-covid-impact-on-children/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">child caught between</a> the past, the future and salvation.Aditi Sherpa’s colourful paintings are equally abstract in their narratives. Eyes stare out right into the viewer’s souls. The cacophony of shapes ask “What are you?” in large bold Devnagari letters. A yellow lemon with windows floats between a banana, omelette, lizard, face and a confused clock. As the artist grows from one canvas to the next, these are anxious pieces that look for answers in our environment and imaginations.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637223049c7e80680e0c032cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1751" height="1313"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Says Namami Rana, assistant art manager at BAC:  “This is a vulnerable exhibit. The artists have explored topics such as mental health, social conformity, stigma, the fear of Covid. It is very exciting to see the positive response from the audience as well which has bene encouraging to the artists.”In fact, some of the artists are showing their works for the first time at Monsoon Hymns, and Mahato’s curation is impeccable, giving each their own space, their own corner to shine, without saturating in the mix.Most artworks are for sale, especially as the promotion of the artists and finding a space for them to explore and be discovered are central to the exhibition, and the prices range between Rs10,000-40,000Monsoon HymnsCurated by Saroj MahatoBikalpa Art Centre, PulchokTill 15 July 2022.

Nepal's new generation of alternative artists

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible While premium beauty product outlets were closing during the Covid-19 pandemic, two young women gambled on setting up a new skin and haircare brand with natural ingredients mostly sourced from Nepal and suited for the Nepali complexion. Arushree Sharma Khatiwada and Megha Agarwal were batchmates in school before they left for studies abroad, returning to set up Avani Nepal after year-long rigorous research into ayurveda-based cosmetic products. Avani in Sanskrit means ‘earth’, and as the name suggests it is committed to bringing all natural, pure and authentic range of beauty solutions.&nbsp; “We found a gap in the Nepali market demand for cosmetics, which is why we decided on a brand sourced from all-natural Himalayan herbs that are not used or explored properly,” says co-founder Khatiwada.&nbsp; Nepal is a treasure trove for medicinal plants and those with therapeutic properties. After all, legend has it that Hanuman flew right across the subcontinent from Sri Lanka to the Himalaya to find a rare medicinal plant to save the life of Lord Ram, who was wounded in battle. When he could not find the specific plant, he tore off a whole mountain and brought it down. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/looking-good-by-doing-good">Looking good by doing good</a>, Sudiksha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314120356_32323fd084540236fe4edb3b98286c131d67c73310279c8038510da1e1ae1bc0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260314120356_32323fd084540236fe4edb3b98286c131d67c73310279c8038510da1e1ae1bc0" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="2012" loading="lazy" alt="Avani"> </figure>  Medicinal plants in Nepal range from yarsagumba to jatamasi and 500 other species traditionally used in the Ayurveda as well as now in the wellness industry. Avani is also trying to experiment hibiscus, Himalayan honey and other plants to eventually launch an export drive. Running a business in Nepal is no easy task, especially for small scale locally crafted products but in a few years, Avani has ammased loyal customer base and have many repeat customers. “While it was tricky initially, we were determined to launch our products with the best quality ingredients and in an affordable price range,” says Khatiwada. Following a worldwide trend and emulating the method used by Korean cosmetic brands, Avani has deployed celebrities and influencers to increase its outreach through tikTok , Facebook and YouTube. &nbsp;Actresses Barsha Shiwakoti and Shilpa Maskey and makeup artists like Lemi have reviewed their products favourably. Sutainability is a big part of the brand, and Avani uses glass bottles, cardboard boxes, paper bags for all its products. Plastic use is cut to a minimum, and where used is recycled.&nbsp; “Many people think that sustainable brands are expensive, we want to bust that myth,” Khatiwada told us. “We focus on being eco-friendly using ethically sourced materials that are paraben, silicon, and cruelty free.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/proud-to-wear-dolpo">Proud to wear DOLPO</a>, Vishad Raj Onta  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314120356_da0d7d4082a9aa51c96ecbcb8a2e7a5bc60e27de202fb339a522036aa3f50b49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260314120356_da0d7d4082a9aa51c96ecbcb8a2e7a5bc60e27de202fb339a522036aa3f50b49" data-rendition-name="original" width="1048" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Avani"> </figure>  Avani has expanded its business to get a toehold in Nepal’s tourism and wellness industry, and the products are carried by spas in leading hotels and resorts in Kathmandu and Pokhara such as the Terraces, Marriott, and Kavya resort, and is in talk with the Hideaway Resort in Pokhara.&nbsp; The skin and haircare brand that initially started with 10 products has since expanded its line to 60 with goods placed in more than 100 stores across Kathmandu. Plans are in the works to expand to India, China and in Japan partnering with Okada. Avani Nepal’s founders say that they support empowerment through employment and training opportunities for women at the company. Khatiwada herself has been engaged with organisations such as Nepal Women Chamber of Commerce, and Nepal Youth Entrepreneur Forum. Additional support from the government such as the provision of lower excise duties has helped but guidance for export and other business regulations is as crucial. Such an environment would also foster opportunities for the youth who are otherwise moving away for jobs or study abroad. “While everyone is trying to go abroad, opportunities can be created here in Nepal itself, with adequate support from the government,” says Khatiwada. “In the meantime, we are eyeing for long term benefits. We are trying to create a legacy for cosmetic brands in Nepal.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/java-in-the-himalaya-y1ilc21h">Java in the Himalaya</a>, Vishad Raj Onta

Redefining the criteria for beauty

- High Court employee Amrita KC fulfilled her duties as a polling officer in Nepalganj on election day, with her six-month-old daughter held in her arms.&nbsp; - The same morning in Kathmandu-1, RSP candidate Ranju Neupane appeared at the polling station to cast her vote with her 10-day-old baby. The next day, she became the first candidate declared a winner by the Election Commission. Her party won a supermajority and will now be tasked with reforms in governance, development, the economy, and service delivery. At least four of the winning RSP candidates are doctors, and the party must fulfil its campaign promise of improving healthcare access across Nepal. Among the lowest-ranking region for healthcare indicators in Nepal is Madhes Province. Across the districts of Madhes and Karnali, where maternal and neonatal health outcomes remain poorer than in the rest of the nation, local governments in collaboration with non-profits, have financed and facilitated the operation of birthing centres where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-haemorrhaging-nurses">nurses are lifelines</a> for pregnant women, new mothers, and newborn babies.&nbsp; At the Inarwari birthing centre in Rautahat district, nurse midwife Manisha Kushwaha gently applies ultrasound gel on the abdomen of 28-year-old Robina Khatun who is having a sonogram in the first trimester.&nbsp; Kushwaha glides the transducer over Khatun’s belly before pronouncing her baby healthy. She will later send the ultrasound machine for the municipality’s monthly mobile sonogram program in a neighbouring village.&nbsp; Ministry of Health and Population guidelines recommend that pregnant people make eight antenatal care (ANC) visits to health posts before their delivery date. Expecting mothers are also provided Rs800 for the eight visits and travel costs according to geographical region. In Baudhimai, the local government provides more incentives: 10 eggs for non-vegetarian and protein powder for vegetarian mothers-to-be per visit. The municipality also provides free ambulance service for pregnant women, and conducts a monthly mobile sonogram program across all communities.&nbsp; The initiatives of local governments, health officials, non-profits, and volunteers have meant that institutional deliveries here have increased drastically. In Rautahat, institutional deliveries have increased from 50% to 68% in four years, according to figures from the non-profit One Heart Worldwide that works to improve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-lagging-in-safe-motherhood">maternal and neonatal health</a> outcomes arcoss Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020352_a3f66142aa6a0333b78d82cd5520b1818633a580885232c10625572e014b1b15.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260314020352_a3f66142aa6a0333b78d82cd5520b1818633a580885232c10625572e014b1b15" data-rendition-name="original" width="1034" height="650" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  “Home deliveries have completely stopped in Inarwari, and women are increasingly accessing ante-natal and post-natal care, as well as family planning measures,” says Manisha Kushwaha. “Women and families here are now more aware of maternal and neonatal healthcare.” One of them is Noor Jahan Khatun, who had her first baby at home and gave birth to her second child at the local birthing centre despite wanting another home birth. When the due date for her third child came around, she walked to the health post herself.&nbsp; “I realised it is much better to give birth at the hospital,” Noor, who is pregnant with her fourth child, told us. “They have everything we need in case of complications.” The nursing staff at the birthing centre, as well as other centres in the municipality also periodically review their training in the birthing simulation room set up on the premises of the Inarwari birthing centre so that they retain their training and continue to hone their skills. Over in Sarlahi’s Sundarpur in Chakraghatta Rural Municipality, a state-of-the-art birthing centre now stands adjacent to the derelict old structure from which nurses previously had to provide services.&nbsp; The new and improved maternity ward was built last year with Rs2.4 million from the municipality and a Rs2 million from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/what-can-be-more-fulfilling-than-saving-lives">One Heart Worldwide</a> under a cost-sharing public-private partnership formula.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_4e7f71b535541d56d267baa6f2656faf008b7e98cc16da0042253f4c0db3eeb7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260312120328_4e7f71b535541d56d267baa6f2656faf008b7e98cc16da0042253f4c0db3eeb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> <figcaption>Sundarpur birthing centre in Sarlahi built through the collaboration of the local government and One Heart Worldwide.</figcaption> </figure>  Chief nurse Sunita Rai has been stationed here for the last six years, and looks at the old building. “I remember when we had to deliver babies while ankle-deep in flood water during monsoon,” recalls Rai. “This new facility and the equipment have improved service.”&nbsp; Since the start of the fiscal year, the six-nurse team at Sundarpur has delivered more than 140 babies. One day last month, a national holiday, the centre was quieter than usual, with just two women waiting for delivery.&nbsp; But fewer-than-usual patients does not mean there is no work to be done. In the afternoon, nurses make the rounds of the community to conduct post-natal care visits, and to keep track of how the new mothers and babies in the village are doing. This is important because neonatal mortality of babies within the first month of birth is still high. “For the people in this village we are both the doctor and the nurse,” Rai says matter-of-factly as she walks towards the village to see a new mother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020352_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260314020352_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027" data-rendition-name="original" width="790" height="542" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  In Sarlahi's Laxmipur Kodraha, Kanchan Rai makes her own rounds, calling out to several young children playing in the pale afternoon sun. Rai has been stationed in Laxmipur for 10 years and delivered most of those children playing outside herself. A beloved member of the community, Rai is greeted by several women and invited in for tea and snacks as she walks by. The Laxmipur birthing centre has seen major renovations to make it more spacious, better equipped, and hygienic. Mothers now have more privacy, especially from men who in the past would simply barge in wanting to know which woman from the village was about to give birth.&nbsp; “We deliver 400 babies on average every year,” Rai says. “There have been zero home births in this village for the last five years, and women are increasingly accessing maternal healthcare and family planning services.” Institutional deliveries in Sarlahi have gone up from 37% to 71% over the past five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020348_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260314020348_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac" data-rendition-name="original" width="359" height="329" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  Pregnant women who require C-sections, or those who experience complications during pregnancies, are referred to the nearest provincial hospitals in Gaur or Malangwa. “Community-based awareness programs about going for hospital visits have helped reduce home deliveries, and counselling sessions provided to new mothers at provincial hospitals have contributed to better maternal and neonatal health outcomes,” says Sachin Yadav, obstetrician-gynaecologist at Malangwa Provincial Hospital. SAFE MOTHERHOOD Newborns with birth asphyxia, tachycardia, meconium aspiration syndrome and other complications are admitted to the special newborn care unit at the Gaur Provincial Hospital. But Apsana Khatun, chief nurse at the hospital’s maternal and neonatal unit says: “We have not been able to provide neo-natal care as effectively because we do not have an NICU.”&nbsp; Provincial hospitals provide life-saving services, but remain underfunded and in need of life-saving equipment. At the Gaur Hospital, Rukmini Kumari Shah gently rocks her three-day-old son, who was admitted to the special newborn care unit due to birth asphyxia and dehydration.&nbsp; “I have not even been able to think of a name for him,” says the 25-year-old. “My other two children were born normal but I worry for this one.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_2736dbc7660fdb60d928df22b387d084a244607126567e5cbf37235177d1ac3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260312120328_2736dbc7660fdb60d928df22b387d084a244607126567e5cbf37235177d1ac3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> <figcaption>Gaur Provincial Hospital.</figcaption> </figure>  This is where the election pledge of the RSP will be tested. Will the new government cut through the bureaucracy, corruption and resource constraints to provide life-saving services to mothers and babies in places like Rautahat and Sarlahi? There has been no maternal mortality at the Malangwa Provincial Hospital for the last two years, but the hospital has had neonatal deaths. “We need more spacious waiting areas and training for maternal and neonatal healthcare workers,” says Sachin Yadav. “Without that we are unable to serve our patients and have to send them to Kathmandu or Birganj.” In Baudhimai village, patient numbers have increased by 140% in the last three years, but the federal government slashed the health budget by 60%. The government across three levels is supposed to provide 98 types of essential medicine free of cost at primary healthcare centres, but the federal and provincial governments often fail to make their share of the drugs available.&nbsp; “Federal and especially provincial governments have been irresponsible when it comes to investing in local healthcare,” says Baudhimai mayor Pradeep Kumar Yadav. Health workers and institutions continue to work without being paid or funded when the budget remains frozen for months at a time. “It does not matter to a patient when the fiscal year begins,” says Sachin Yadav at the Malangwa Provincial Hospital. “Maternal deaths do not wait for the budget to be released.” And despite budget constraints, political posturing still continues. At local levels, officials build multiple birthing centres in each ward when one would suffice, and these buildings remain empty.&nbsp; Politics also plays a significant role in whether or not local officials are willing to agree when health officials try to refer pregnancy-related complications to better-equipped facilities. And while services have improved due to the efforts of dedicated healthcare officials, they are transferred from one place to another at the whim of governments that come and go, which means staff turnover in these institutions is very high, affecting consistent service delivery. &nbsp; Yadav has been at Malangwa for three years— during which yearly institutional deliveries have gone from 2,000 to 3,200 and C-section births have gone from 150 to 700. He had just begun to hit his stride at the hospital when he received transfer letters to another hospital.&nbsp; So far, he has managed to hold on to his position in Malangwa, but he does not know how long he will be able to delay the transfer. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Tackling patriarchy</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_7df47f32c19a10cd59efbd7e2639a1b719bd4f6ca50bfa24189c8ecc65f21d09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260312120328_7df47f32c19a10cd59efbd7e2639a1b719bd4f6ca50bfa24189c8ecc65f21d09" data-rendition-name="original" width="1850" height="3000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> </figure>  Nepal has made dramatic progress in reducing the maternal mortality rate (MMR) from 539 per 100,000 births to 142 over the past 30 years. But that is the national average. MMR is still high in parts of Nepal where access to healthcare and adoption of health services are not as extensive. One reason is that despite birthing centres and awareness of pre- and post-natal healthcare, s<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-slaughter-of-our-daughters">ocio-cultural norms in a patriarchal society</a> also mean that female literacy remains low, and the rate of underage marriage is high.&nbsp; Rautahat has the lowest literacy rate in Nepal, and the lowest female literacy rate. This has a direct correlation with its its fertility and maternal mortality rates. Gaur Hospital continues to see maternal and intrauterine fetal death (IUFD) deaths due to a lack of ANC visits by patients. In the absence of education and information, socio-cultural misconceptions still persist. Women refuse to take essential pre-natal medication like folic acid because they think it will affect their babies’ complexion, and do not eat enough fruits because they believe it will cause fetal pneumonia.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020348_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260314020348_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856" data-rendition-name="original" width="377" height="367" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  Women are also expected to get through their pregnancies without going for health check ups in keeping with the tradition of their mothers and mothers-in-law enduring pregnancy and childbirth at home without access to healthcare. Maternal and neonatal health outcomes are also affected by child marriage, as well as the patriarchy-enforced preference of a male child in the family.&nbsp; At Gaur Provincial Hospital, 25-year-old Asha Kumari stands with her hands braced against the hospital bed as she is gripped by a contraction. Her eldest child is already 12, and she is at the hospital to have her fifth baby.&nbsp; “She had already had two children by the time she was 18,” explains her mother, who is here with Asha’s mother-in-law. &nbsp; Officials worry that reporting instances of child marriage might mean that women no longer trust health workers and hospitals, and stop accessing healthcare altogether. They insist that investment in maternal health needs to be accompanied by socio-cultural interventions. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FtVA--CRk3nM%3Fsi%3DJtFs6cwqOhJua9NI&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>

Motherhood in the Madhes

Nepal’s new political wave has been described in many ways: a generational shift, a technocratic shift, a shift in ideas, and a shift in political behaviour. Young leaders now sit in Parliament, many with international education and policy experience.
But amid this excitement, a quieter truth risks getting lost: this political transformation is also the ascent of people who, until recently, were the grassroots themselves.
For the first time, many of the people now sitting in government are not distant elites. They are people I have marched with, argued with, worked with, and been inspired by for more than a decade.
They are people who once stood ankle‑deep in floodwaters, not in front of press conferences. As optimism rises around the new government, we must not forget that the climate crisis has not slowed down. 
The monsoon is at our doorstep again. And if the disasters from previous years taught us anything, it is that climate impacts do not wait for political transitions. And our mountains and rivers do not care who sits in Singha Darbar.
What is different this time is who holds power.
During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">September 2024 floods in Kathmandu</a>, the first responders were not the state or development machinery. It was ordinary young people. A loosely formed WhatsApp network coordinated everything from dispatching mountain bikers to landslide‑stranded areas, to pooling relief supplies, to delivering materials to army bases for airlifting. These were citizens acting out of necessity, not mandate.
Many from that very network are now part of the government. As I have argued before in Nepali Times, top‑down climate responses in Nepal have always been too little, too late, and too disconnected from lived experience. The only proven path is bottom‑up, community-led adaptation where those who face the risks daily shape the solutions. 
International research backs this: community-based adaptation has been central to success stories from Bangladesh’s cyclone shelters to Vietnam’s mangrove restoration to the Philippines’ barangay disaster committees. The world has repeatedly learned that resilience grows from the ground up, not the top down.
RARE MOMENT
Nepal now has a rare political moment where people with lived experience of crisis sit in positions of authority. The real test is whether this lived experience becomes policy and immediate action.
The expectation should not be that these new leaders deliver because of their degrees. It should be because they remember where they come from and use their privilege to strengthen and fund local institutions, networks and people who kept this country functioning long before governments did.
The monsoon that starts in June will test the government’s commitment to governing from the bottom up. Will these new leaders govern the way they once volunteered — listening first, acting fast, improvising where needed, and involving those closest to the danger? Or will the weight of the state push them back toward the familiar comfort of top‑down plans and consultant reports?
The challenges are complex. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu" target="_blank">Climate change is driving displacement</a>, deepening poverty, and exacerbating gendered vulnerabilities. Climate adaptation, therefore, needs cross-sectoral solutions that understand how these issues intersect.
Long-term transformation is essential. Our major cities like Kathmandu desperately need a future where rivers are protected instead of mined, where an urban forest cools our heat‑trapping city, and where mobility focuses on sustainability, not just shiny EVs. Our mountain villages and terai lowlands deserve a community resilient to climate impacts, with livelihoods protected.
These require years of work. But immediate, life-saving measures cannot wait.
Will the government finally rein in the sand mining and quarrying upstream of the Rosi and Nakkhu Khola? Will someone sit down with the communities on the riverbanks and listen to the early warning signs they’ve learned through pain? Will climate adaptation be prioritised amidst political noise and competing crises?
Or will we find ourselves, yet again, mourning damage that could have been prevented? I have been inspired by many of the individuals now in government — they questioned old hierarchies, challenged worn‑out norms, and believed that things could be done differently. 
But while the faces in Parliament have changed, the bureaucracy has not. Development organisations and civil society groups have not. And those systems are slow: too slow for the speed at which our climate is changing.
So something has to give. And that shift must begin with remembering where this political movement came from: the grassroots. Those now in power must not forget the urgency they once carried in their bones. They cannot forget the feeling of wading into murky floodwater, holding a bag of rice over their heads. 
And it is our responsibility — mine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/turning-green-policies-into-greenbacks" target="_blank">as a writer</a>, yours as a reader, and ours as citizens — to remind them. The real spark for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/measuring-climate-impact-on-culture-and-heritage" target="_blank">climate action</a> comes from personal stories of loss, fear, survival, and solidarity. And suddenly, those stories are no longer outside the halls of government. They are inside.
The question is no longer whether our leaders understand the stakes. They do. They lived it. The real question, as the skies grow heavier again, is this: What will we do with this moment?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu">Rastra Raj Bhandari</a> is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change.

art-review

In the mind's eye

Looking at Nepal from Venice

Artful devotion

Façades and flowers from Nepal to Italy

Himalayan tipping points

Communicating existence through art

Tsherin Sherpa returns home to Takpa

Girl, unbothered

Sketching the chariot of the rain god

Nepal's new generation of alternative artists

Redefining the criteria for beauty

Motherhood in the Madhes

Soon, the monsoon

In the mind's eye