<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14ae9c7e80680e0a998cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3210" height="3156"/><figcaption>The Dark Light by Dipesh Nepali.</figcaption></figure>At first glance, it screams utter sorrow. It projects out-and-out unhappiness of the mind, body and soul, a feeling of having given up on life itself. It is dark, it is lonely, it is sad.But do not dismiss <a href="https://www.mona.com.np/art/v/the-dark-light" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the painting</a>, give it some time to grow on you. The painting may fleetingly transport viewers to painful periods of their lives, long repressed. Most of us have experienced such 'dark' moments, where we struggled and persevered only to emerge elatedly on the other side.This painting is the work of 16-year-old Dipesh Nepali who is from a village in Jumla district, in the isolated mountains of north-western Nepal. An ordinary school student, Dipesh has had a difficult life in a harsh environment where food is often scarce, winters are long and dreary, and access to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-one-nepali-mother-at-a-time/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">basic healthcare and education is minimal</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14b19c7e80680e0a998djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="961"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In his spare time, after finishing his household chores, Dipesh likes to draw and paint. It is his escape from the daily grind, a chance to express himself and bare his soul."Art was my escape from the world, and from myself,” Dipesh told me recently. “It is a way to be truly free from the chains of family and society. It is where the chaos of my mind and soul find rest, art is a medium to bring it all out."Talking to the young artist in Kathmandu recently helped me understand the written and unwritten rules of society, not least materialism and the desperate search for instant, superficial gratification which ultimately led him to seek solitude, go into hiding, and retreat into himself.Yet, in his work, Dipesh has retained the curiosity of his childhood, the questioning and seeking, and in doing so he has discovered that art resided within him. It only needed to be kindled gently to become a powerful tool.At first glance, this painting does not seem to inspire much, it looks ordinary and is not pleasing to the eye, either. But give it time and space to incubate, and it radiates a quiet energy, like an inner applause for a battle won ove<a name="m_1340593093098604498__GoBack"></a>r negative emotions. Proof that the artist has been at a low point in his life, and is back up to show us how it felt.If we reflect on the painting long enough, it may bring back our own dark moments, reminding some of us of the process of recovery, how we emerged stronger, determined and self-reliant. No matter what our struggle, there is always more ahead to look forward to. But evoking and honouring these memories empowers us to meet adversity head-on and overcome themDipesh was confused about himself and about his passion for art. So, he travelled to Kathmandu seeking skill and exposure. Luckily, his older brother was in the city and took care of him.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/i-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n-by-uttam-nepali/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">IMAGINATION by Uttam Nepali</a>, Rajan Sakya"Yet, internally I found no relief, being weighed down with my own thoughts, feelings and emotions. I submerged myself in my work, as an escape. Hard work became a form of a band-aid, but it never really healed the wounds,” Dipesh relates.As a teenager, I too had issues like Dipesh. And as a way to escape them, I travelled to the United States at age 17. My band-aid was enrolling as an exchange student, my senior year in high school. Folks in Nepal covered my costs, and I lived with an American family for a year.Unfortunately, I had developed vitiligo, a depigmentation of skin colour. For a teenager trying to adapt to a new society, this was disheartening. With no relatives or friends, I felt totally isolated, not because I was bullied, but due to the turmoil inside me.My horror at my own appearance and how people would view me was unbearble. I lacked confidence, kept away from people, afraid of how they would react. It got to the point where for four months I ate my lunch in the school bathroom, and then went straight to class. There was a sense of achievement in just avoiding people.Today, I no longer feel embarrassed or inferior. I believe those hard years gave me a solid foundation to face anything and everything that life throws at me.Dipesh Nepali’s art transports me back to that time of my own life: the sadness, the loneliness, the anxiety, the feeling of being trapped by powers beyond my control. Yet it also reminds me of a personal battle that I waged and won over myself. I would not be who I am today if it was not for that ordeal.Dipesh’s mind has travelled further than his young body. With an incredibly mature and unique vision of the world, one finds in his work expressions of anguish and a yearning to be free. Painting has become an outlet to bring out his repressed emotions and feelings.The depth in his art is there for everyone to see, but less obvious are numerous and varied technical skills he has improvised to create his painting -- his choice of oils to achieve a unique blend and shades of colours. The painting is now on exhibit at the Museum of Nepali Art (MoNA) in Kathmandu.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-compassionate-white-tara/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">A work of art</a> can mean a different thing for different people, response is by definition subjective. Dipesh Nepali's art touched the deepest and darkest parts of my own past, and reminded me of my own struggles. But I also found contentment and peace in the darkest reaches of this canvas.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14b49c7e80680e0a998ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Rajan Sakya is the founder of the <a href="https://www.mona.com.np/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.mona.com.np/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1636885001579000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3ALJGKdDeixs8GvIU7FLGG">Museum of Nepali Art</a> at Kathmandu Guest House, Thamel and contributes this monthly column For Art’s Sake in Nepali Times.

Rajan Sakya

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Dipesh Nepali’s dark light

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cI1CkRG7MxU“Had I not become a woodcarver, I don’t know what I would be doing today,” says <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/featured-videos/out-with-the-old-in-with-the-new/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Indra Prasad Shilpakar</a>. “I have never thought about it.”Indra Prasad, 38, cannot see himself in any profession besides wood carving, despite having a degree in fine arts and a masters in contemporary sculpture from Tribhuvan University.Not only is wood carving a passion for Shilpakar, his family has been into the craft since the 6th century, and their surname literally translates as ‘woodworker’.Indra Prasad, like his father Indra Kaji, started playing with wood when he was just 12. By the age of 17 he had already learned the basics of carving from his father.“I grew up seeing my father’s woodwork and his dedication to keeping our traditional Newa craft alive. It inspired me to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors and continue what the Shilpakars have always been known for,” he adds.Both Indras have built and restored windows, doors and struts of temples and falcha resting places, and crafted replicas of old masterpieces in Bhaktapur and Patan Darbar Squares. All their work is purely handmade and reflects traditional art, mythology and symbolism. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151124/636a66879c7e80680e05998cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photos : SHRILUNA SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure> It takes 15-20 days to complete a skeleton of the work. They draw the figures with pencil, and carve by hand using only a few modern implements: electric saw, plane and drill.“We do not use modern machines for production because it depletes the quality. Doing it manually may consume time, but it is much more satisfying,” says Indra Kaji.Adds Indra Prasad, “Wood carving comes only to those who have patience and passion to create, learn and bring art to life. Those who see it as a business do not go a long way.”Indra Prasad has carved 32 Newa masterpieces in the past 18 years, mostly sculptures and traditional windows. He held his first solo exhibition at the <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.15px;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/taragaon-museum-boudha,1609">Taragaon Museum</a> earlier this year, and plans another one in Germany next year. It will include carved deities and spirits, dragons and Tantric struts, based on themes of fertility, wisdom, compassion, meditation and music. <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151124/636a668a9c7e80680e05998djpeg.jpg" alt=""> For both father and son, wood carving means more than using a chisel and designing. It is a detail-oriented process that requires an understanding of traditions, norms and values.“There are some rules for carving the designs onto wood. We cannot just randomly chisel away — every object or creature seen in the toran has its precise significance that cannot be changed. That is why understanding the meaning is highly important,” says Indra Kaji.Both father and son want traditional Newa wood carving taught as a discipline in universities in order to preserve its values and techniques for the future. Otherwise, the father and son may be the last generations of master carvers in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/clash-of-cultures-in-bhaktapur/">Bhaktapur</a>.“The young generation today is more drawn towards technology and machines. They are in a hurry,” says Indra Prasad. “I cannot guarantee my 9-month son or 5-year-old daughter will be woodcarvers, but I am hopeful they will have new avenues to preserve and promote what my family has been doing for so long.”Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=37782&amp;preview_nonce=9d7ef77938&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Coming out of the woodwork</a>, Kunda Dixit

Crafting a heritage

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151120/636a667f9c7e80680e059989jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="843"/>Heinrich Meyer came to Nepal in 1975 to work on the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19496#.XfIPEZMzbIV" target="_blank" rel="noopener">German government-supported Bhaktapur Development Project</a> to restore the old town and its glorious architectural heritage.As a cultural conservationist, his job was to rescue some of the magnificent but crumbling buildings of the historical kingdom, as well as the devotional art that decorated them: mainly carved wooden struts, windows, doors and eaves.Between 1975 and 1979, Meyer worked to set up a cooperative to revive woodcarving and to make the profession sustainable again. He worked with the Shilpakar clan, the traditional woodcarving family of Bhaktapur, in which the craft has been passed down through generations. By the time he left, the Shilpakars had revived the skills they had nearly lost.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/featured-videos/out-with-the-old-in-with-the-new/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In with the old, in with the new</a>, Sewa BhattaraiAfter the 2015 earthquake, which <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapur-shows-the-way-by-rebuilding-itself/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">devastated Bhaktapur</a>, in his hometown in Germany, Meyer took out boxes of slides from his time in Nepal and found photographs taken 40 years ago of the woodcarvings of Bhaktapur.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151124/636a66839c7e80680e05998ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1148">‘The photos were unique because many of them cannot be photographed in the same setting again, and that prompted me to start this book project,’ Meyer writes in his preface to Kasthakala: The Art of Nepalese Woodcarving. ‘Many of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/learning-from-nepals-past-to-rebuild-its-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">valuable historical carvings in Nepal</a> had been lost over time through neglect, decay, earthquakes and theft.’Indeed, the book is an image-rich documentation of what has been lost, and what is still left of this priceless facet of Nepali heritage. The numerous close-ups of the carvings provide detailed information of the grain, the texture and components of the pieces for posterity.Meyer gives full credit to the Shilpakars for setting up the Kasthakala Sajha Sansthan and upholding the tradition. He writes: ‘Today Indrakaji Shilpakar is one of the best carvers in Nepal.’Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=37788&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Crafting a heritage,</a>Shriluna ShresthaWood carving was a component of the Kathmandu Valley civilisation from at least as long ago as the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13528#.XfISUpMzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Licchavi Period</a> (3rd-9th century CE) till the Malla Period (12th-18th century CE). Thereafter it suffered a decline during the Rana and Shah Periods, and it was not until the revival of Bhaktapur and its artisans in the 1970s that woodcarving came out of the woodwork, as it were.Unlike stone sculptures in Kathmandu Valley, which go back at least 2,000 years, the fact that wood is perishable material means it is less durable. Still, the oldest wood carvings found in Kathmandu are from the 6th-7th century CE, surviving mainly because they were carved in hardwood sal timber.Meyer traces the evolution in the carving style in the bilampu wood struts, as Patan and Bhaktapur moved from Buddhism to Hinduism, including how the designs of the sculptures of the salabhanjika lost their fluidity and elegance, becoming increasingly rigid and flat renditions of Hindu avatars as extra limbs and heads were added to the deities. The golden years of wood carving were during the Malla period (1482-1768), when the most elaborate winged lions in the roof struts, along with the lattice windows and doorways of Bhaktapur, were carved.No book on the wood carvings of Kathmandu would be complete without a discussion of the eroticism depicted there. This one explains how the carvings of figures copulating in twos or in groups became bolder after the 15th century as Tantricism took hold. There are scenes of acrobatic intercourse, oral sex and even bestiality. As Meyer’s compatriot Wolfgang Korn explains in his book, Erotic Carvings Of The Kathmandu Valley Found On Struts of Newar Temples (Ratna Pustak, 2019), the explicit carvings were supposed to be too shocking even for evil spirits, and so helped ward off their wrathful manifestations like lightning and earthquakes. However, could it be that they were just an early method of sex education?Kasthakala is magnificently produced, with page after page of exquisitely detailed photography. The most amazing section displays intricately carved windows (the Nepali word jhyal comes from the Newa jhya), in Kathmandu Valley, which seems to have witnessed an explosion of lattice windows, each more elaborately carved than the next.The photos were taken in the 1970s and the captions, which are simple enough for the lay reader, remind us that many of the carvings no longer exist in the original space. The book is in English and German, but with a little extra effort it could have easily been published in Nepali as a trilingual offering.Overall, this is a hopeful book that shows how traditional woodcarving now has a sustainable future thanks to the 800 or so artisans of Bhaktapur who are training others in Patan and Panauti through the cooperative set up in the 1970s. They can make a living because many of the carvings are meant for post-earthquake reconstruction, or have an export market among collectors abroad and the Nepali diaspora.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151124/636a66869c7e80680e05998bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="207">Kasthakala: The Art of Nepalese WoodcarvingHeinrich MeyerVajra Books, 2019In English and German159 pagesRs4,800ISBN: 9789937623889

Kunda Dixit

Coming out of the woodwork

<figure><img width="2592" height="1944" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/6369037b9c7e80680e037cc6jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Manujbabu Mishra's studio with him in 2017. Pic: Sewa Bhattarai</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="2048" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/6369037f9c7e80680e037cc7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Manujbabu Mishra had lived the second half of his life in almost complete isolation, not going outsidehis leafy home on the outskirts of Kathmandu. His studio, cramped with books and painting equipment, suited his lifestyle and personality.His large writing desk is lined with containers, each holding tools of an unimaginable variety: hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, scissors, brushes. He was skilled with his hands, and made his own bamboo pens, a water cannister to sip from, and even crafted his own chairs, benches and easels when younger.Before advancing age and ill health forced him indoors, Mishra lived a hermit's life in an outhouse while his family lived nearby. The fiercely self-sufficient artist,who preferred expression to aesthetics, passed away in his sleep at the age of 83 on 8 August.Mishra's residence, fittingly called 'Hermitage,' reflected his artistic sensibilities: an old fashioned pulley bell instead of an electric one, sea shells adorned the slot for his letterbox, artistic pieces from all over the world litter his home.He disliked uniformity and conformity, and this is reflected in the ambience of his studio decorated with  multicolored warm rugs and a library beautifully age-worn. Everything is exactly where he left it, including a half-finished painting.Mishra was known for a grotesque trademark style where his own face is seen in distorted forms, often accompanied by horns, tridents and rockets amidst tumultuous multi-coloured clouds swirling over transgenic animal forms. He imbued each of his symbols with meaning.The trident is a symbol of power, of creation and destruction, which to him symbolised eastern philosophy. The horns are often seen growing out of his own self-portraits, and are emblematic of the beast in the man. He often bemoaned that modernity seemed to isolate people even further from each other, which was increasing these ghastly tendencies.Even though he almost never left home, he painted portraits of our times with a deep understanding of the devastation outside: of nature, of humanity, of morality and goodness, of loneliness and the fear of isolation. There is a loneliness and isolation in Mishra’s studio,  accentuated by his absence."There is a lot of demand for a certain types of images from Nepal," he would say. "Paintings of  mountains or lifestyles. I would have been rich by now if I had painted those. Beauty is not everything in art. The scream of people who are injured in war, that makes a powerful piece of art too. And my art is expressive and emotive rather than aesthetic." He sometimes described his paintings as "shit",an excretion produced when he got a great urge to empty his emotions. Also Read: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2014/04/29/review-exhibit-the-face-of-faceless-art/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The face of faceless art</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16424#.W3Vd1M4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Art attack</a> <figure><img width="2048" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/636903839c7e80680e037cc8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The rocket streaking across many of his paintings were a symbolic protest against the global dominance of Western civilisation. He was not just an artist but also a <a href="http://apps.who.int/immunization_monitoring/globalsummary/timeseries/tsincidencepolio.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chronicler of world art history</a>, and was concerned about how colonialism had slowly wiped away the cultures of Africa and Asia. A fervent admirer of ancient Egyptian art, he claimed that no statue made after Nefertiti is comparable for quality.He was a lifelong seeker of original Nepali styles which he believed to be more vibrant than the 'monochromic wash' of the western palate. He opened an informal art school at his home where he would take in only janajati students, hoping they would create art that reflected their cultures. That, however, did not last long as students from all ethnicities wanted to enroll in his class, and the numbers grew too large for him to handle.It seems ironic then that this seeker of Nepaliness in art himself used a western genre. After graduating from the College of Arts and Crafts in Dhaka in 1969, he was among the early pioneers of modernism in Nepali art. Asked to explain the contradiction, he once said he was forced to do so because it is not possible to paint in completely Nepali style today.However, he lovingly preserved a small painting of his father by the famed Nepali painter Anandamuni Shakya, which he would show as an example of Nepali style art to anyone who was interested. This week, it still hung on the wall outside his studio.Also read: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Manandhar-fourth-exhibit-Nepal,2641" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Empowering expressionism</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/On-the-way-up/missing-a-creative-curator,972" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Missing a creative curator</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit

Manujbabu Mishra's expression

<figure><img width="598" height="816" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef1b9c7e80680e03595fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Quince (Cydonia Oblonga) by Jessica Tcherepnine Collection Dr Shirley Sherwood</figcaption></figure>The sickening realisation hit as the door slammed behind me and I froze on the polished wooden floor of our fourth floor 81st Street apartment in Manhattan. Damn! The watercolours!I had just paid off the yellow cab on the corner at the end of a long week at the office, and lying carelessly abandoned on the back seat was the navy canvas portfolio that contained every single painstakingly created botanical watercolour that my English room-mate Jessica had ever painted. Her entire life’s work-exquisitely wrought flowers and plants on thick creamy paper, each one the fruit of hours of meticulous dedication and diligence. Lost. Left behind.Jessica had entrusted me with her precious cargo only because I had persuaded her that they should be shown to a gallery-owning acquaintance with a view to an exhibition. She managed a major art auctioneering business, but was far too modest to seek fame or fortune from her secret life as a self-taught botanical artist. Besides, each creation took so many months to craft she was the very opposite of prolific. With no pets, kids or lovers for distraction, these watercolours were her total passion and purpose.Older than me and a bit pedantic for my personal taste, I was trying to thank Jessica for welcoming me into her carefully furnished apartment and for generously putting up with my neophyte enthusiasm for her life in New York’s art world. I had found work with a posh antique dealer that included a boss who was a baronet. This was 1970 when Brits were welcome additions to the Manhattan social circuit, and the art scene was flourishing. But we always carried cash in case of the inevitable street muggings, and venturing into Central Park at night was considered the height of recklessness in those crime-ridden days. <figure><img width="888" height="1204" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef1d9c7e80680e035960jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>My route to this charmed life in the USA had been circuitous and opportunistic. I started with a rather oblique job cooking for a former senator on a picture-perfect bird-hunting plantation near Thomasville on the Georgia-Florida border. Grey green Spanish moss decorated the trees and alligators lurked amongst the bulrushes, but the family stood to attention when the President appeared on television, and even now I prefer to forget their explanation of the mental capacity of their army of faithful black servants.Friends fixed me up with a role in the <a href="https://www.mfah.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Houston Museum of Fine Arts</a>, and another chance meeting at an antiques’ fair had landed me my current life at Mallets in Bergdorf Goodman, an elegant outlet selling vintage English furniture on the second floor of the revered retail institution, strategically located to entice wealthy New Yorkers between Lingerie, the Givenchy Boutique and the Fur Department.Anyway, good intentions aside, Jessica had to be told about this appalling catastrophe. I spent a miserable July 4 weekend calling every cab company to see if anything had been handed into lost and found, hanging around the hot summer sidewalk in case my driver felt moved to return, reporting it to the police (as if they cared) and generally praying that some miracle would restore them or that the ground would swallow me up before she returned from some Long Island beach house.I had no real excuse, just pure negligence, and abject apologies that felt dry on my tongue as I saw the light fade in her eyes. She was admirably calm and British about it. But the already stuffy air in the apartment was heavy with grief and resentment that only thickened as the weeks wore on, and hope receded. Her painting gear lay untouched on the lowest shelf of the bookcase. <figure><img width="652" height="1028" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef209c7e80680e035961jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Life had settled into an uneasy truce and the trees outside 151 East 81st Street were fading to gold. The call came one sleepy Saturday morning as shafts of sunlight penetrated the traffic sounds and smudged window panes. Jessica was again away for the weekend, avoiding me. Although she had many friends, the voice on the phone did not sound like one of them. In those nervous New York days one did not take kindly to cold callers with a Brooklyn accent who asked if Jessica lived there.“Who wants to know?” I countered unhelpfully.“My Dad brought home some flower pictures that look like someone took a long time to paint them, signed with a name that I can’t really make out. I’m calling everyone in the phone book that has a similar name from around the area where they were left in his taxi. It’s taken me a long time, I’ve hit lots of dead ends, it’s become a sort of obsession with me ’cos I reckon someone must be really sorry to have lost these paintings. I think they are really lovely but my family think I’m nuts to go to so much trouble. But, sorry to bother you …”.The world stood still, time suspended. “Wait, wait, wait …” I yelled into the phone. My breath returned, and so did all of Jessica’s paintings.A series of fateful twists and turns would deliver me to Nepal several years later, but my flatmate’s destiny was sealed by the miracle of this man’s perseverance. Marrying late, she stayed in America and with restored confidence found time to pursue her plant painting. Today, as <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1997/04/13/magazine/portrait-of-a-plant.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jessica Tcherepnine</a>, she is an acclaimed artist with solo exhibitions and two gold medals from the <a href="https://www.rhs.org.uk/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Royal Horticultural Society</a>, and is represented in major botanical art collections all over the world.I’m still not sure that she has forgiven me.Jessica Tcherepnine, the Botanical Artist <a href="http://Jessica Tcherepnine, the Botanical Artist died on 31 December 2018 at age 80 in New York: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/11/obituaries/jessica-tcherepnine-dead.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">died on 31 December 2018 at the age of 80</a> in New York.

Lisa Choegyal

A Miracle in Manhattan

India and Pakistan are twins separated at birth. Tensions between them have been at a hair trigger ever since independence and has erupted into full scale conflict at least four times in the past 80 years.
The 22 April terrorist attack in Kashmir that killed 25 Indian tourists and a Nepali citizen, threatens to escalate tension between the two nuclear-armed nations. India has squarely blamed Pakistan for the attacks, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has given his military “operational freedom” to respond. Pakistan has said it has credible intelligence of an Indian military strike and its officials have promised a “full spectrum” response — a code for a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/thinking-the-thinkable">nuclear retaliation</a>.
For Nepal, the killing of its national in the Pahalgam attack comes as another stark reminder that in conflicts from Afghanistan to Iraq, from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/how-to-agree-an-armistice-in-ukraine">Ukraine</a> to Israel, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/10-nepalis-from-one-town-fighting-in-ukraine">Nepalis are getting caught in the crossfire</a>. The last time full-scale fighting broke out between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/peacemongers-at-india-pakistan-border">India and Pakistan</a> on Kargil in 1999, at least 22<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-trial-by-fire-for-soldiers-from-nepal?%27%5C%22="> Nepalis fighting for the Indian Army</a> were killed in action.
Three of Nepal’s immediate neighbours (China, India, Pakistan) have nuclear weapons, and they do not have good relations. With China supplying weapons, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/war-and-warming">missile technology</a> and other support to Pakistan, this triangular friction could set off a regional conflagration.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43016-022-00573-0" target="_blank">Research at Rutgers University</a> has calculated that even a week-long tactical nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan would throw up so much smoke and debris into the atmosphere that it would block out the sun for years, and lead to a collapse of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grow-nourish-sustain-together-world-food-day">global food system</a>. This does not take into account the radioactive fallout that prevailing winds would blow up to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">the Himalaya</a>, contaminating glaciers that are the sources of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Asia’s main rivers</a>.
The impact of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>on High Asia was already ringing alarm bells about its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/himalayan-icecap-melting-faster-than-thought">shrinking ice cap</a> reducing the dry season flow of water downstream. Water was going to be the next strategic commodity, geopolitical experts warned, and the next wars in Asia would be over water.
That water war is already happening. India retaliated to the Kashmir attack by suspending the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/24/world/asia/india-pakistan-indus-waters-treaty.html" target="_blank">Indus Waters Treaty</a> of 1960 mediated by the World Bank that has withstood at least three wars between India and Pakistan. The treaty gives India control over the three eastern tributaries of the Indus (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beas_River" target="_blank">Beas</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravi_River" target="_blank">Ravi</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutlej" target="_blank">Sutlej</a>), while Pakistan got water from the Indus and two of its western tributaries (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_River" target="_blank">Indus</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenab_River" target="_blank">Chenab</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jhelum_River" target="_blank">Jhelum</a>.
Pakistan was assured of 70% of the annual flow, and India could use a reasonable amount of water for<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15231"> irrigation and hydropower</a>. &nbsp;Within days of its threat, India stopped water flowing down to Pakistan from the Chenab river and is reportedly preparing to do the same on the Jhelum.
The sabre-rattling has reached a crescendo. Besides threats and counter-threats there are also symbolic drills, with the Indian Air Force practicing landing on an expressway in Uttar Pradesh by its Rafale, Su-30 and Jaguar fighter jets to demonstrate ‘operational readiness’. In response Pakistan test-fired its Abdali ballistic missile that can carry a nuclear warhead and has a range of 450km.&nbsp;
The danger is that with ultra-nationalist rhetoric and the beating the war drums by both sides, India’s government and Pakistan’s military may have to ‘do something’ to appease domestic public opinion. But any tactical strike, an artillery exchange, or territorial incursion could quickly escalate out of control.
Expecting an Indian retaliation for the Pahalgam killings, Pakistan is using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/interfaith-collaboration-for-nuclear-disarmament"> nuclear deterrence </a>and warning of “catastrophic consequences”. The two neighbours came close to a nuclear exchange in 2019 after an attack on the Indian military in Kashmir, and prompt international intervention led by the United States cooled tensions.&nbsp;
This time, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trump-shock-wave-hits-nepal">Trump administration</a> is too distracted and not as engaged. Pakistan has denied it was responsible for the terrorist attack and called on Washington to stop a possible Indian retaliation. India and Pakistan have stopped overflights by each other’s airlines, and some international carriers have even stopped flying over Pakistan fearing an air war.
Washington, Beijing, the UN and the EU have all urged restraint. Iran, which has good relations with both India and Pakistan has sent its foreign minister to urge both countries not to go into a tit-for-tat war. Iran has its own nuclear flashpoint to worry about with tensions in Israel, &nbsp;Yemen and Syria.
India and Pakistan both share similar problems of joblessness, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-s-poverty-rate-is-stuck">poverty </a>and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepal-s-rhinos">environmental threats</a>. Neither side needs the threat of a senseless war, and we in the neighbourhood do not need it either.&nbsp;
Kunda Dixit
This Editorial is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

Nukes in the neighbourhood

The streets of Patan are alive this month with lavender jacaranda trees under rain-washed skies as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the chariot of Rato Matsyendranath</a> is pulled across town. This is the festival of the rain god, and inevitably the heavens opened up and pre-monsoon showers pelted the chariot as it started being pulled in Pulchok last week. Thousands of devotees, onlookers and the chariot procession organisers thronged the streets on the first day last week. The rhythmic cymbals and drums exuded a vibrant energy as the enormous four wheels turned and the chariot lurched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  The<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Red-rain-god,3141"> red rain god</a> has Hindu and Buddhist antecedents, alternatively called Bungadya and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-gravity-defying-chariot-festival"> Karunamaya</a> — reflecting Kathmandu Valley’s syncretic mixture of the two religions.&nbsp; “Bungadya is a profoundly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/marketing-the-intangible">intangible form of heritage</a>,” explains heritage expert Monalisa Maharjan. “It embodies traditional knowledge,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft"> artisanal skills passed down through generations</a>. Local communities and specific families have specified roles in being custodians of the heritage, ensuring their survival over the centuries.” There are many legends and stories about this annual tradition. Lichhavi king Narendra Dev is supposed to have brought Rato Matsyendranath from Assam to Kathmandu Valley to convince Guru Gorakhnath to lift a spell that created a two-year drought in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1503" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Matsyendranath was Gorakhnath’s mentor, and upon seeing him, the serpents were released, unleashing the rains. The chariot festival honours the return of this life-giving rain. The deity is seen as an icon for thriving agriculture, t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">he arrival of monsoon</a> showers, and the welfare of the community. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain">The reign of the god of rain</a>, Vidhu Prakash Kayastha Till this day, the Rato Matsyendranath festival is no ordinary celebration. Patan does not sleep for a month as the chariot is pulled through various neighbourhoods. It unfolds at a state level with the president (formerly the king) attending the climax of the Bhoto Jatra in Jawalakhel later this month.&nbsp; The intergenerational transmission of tradition is unique in the world, and the reason the festival is one of the most vibrant cultural expressions that thrives despite inroads of modernity. The other unique aspect is that it is a transnational festival, binding Patan with Guwahati in the Indian state of Assam.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  “Unlike Nepal, where the deity commands grandeur and devotion, many in Assam are unaware of Rato Matsyendranath,” says Khagen Sharma of Gauhati University, which convened <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-assam-connection-revived">a symposium in February in Guwahati on the rain god</a>. Attending was a delegation led by Lalitpur Mayor Chiribabu Maharjan, organisers of the festival, and builders of the chariot. After the symposium, a committee was formed to explore and revive the tradition in Assam as well. Although the team had planned to visit Nepal this month, logistical challenges delayed the trip. Still, there are plans to build a Guru Matsyendranath statue in Assam to reestablish regular worship practices in the Guwahati shrine.&nbsp; The vines used to build the chariot in Patan are sourced from the jungles of Assam. But Sharma notes that in recent years unclear regulations have blocked the official import of the vines, although they are still brought to Nepal informally. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">chariot making</a> has also had a taste of modernisation in recent times. In the past, even a single nail or piece of steel was avoided. But over time, the wooden structure, particularly the shaft between the wheels, has been replaced with bronze. When that too proved unstable, metal clamps were introduced, which have become a pragmatic compromise.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Another welcome change is the focus on safety. Builders climbing the chariot’s tower now wear harnesses and there are efforts in crowd control. The most visible change in recent years has been the involvement of Patan’s enthusiastic youth in the festival — the tradition is now passing to a new generation. Says Matsyendranath expert Vidhu Kayastha: “There is more energy, the young people in red t-shirts this year were very organised, these modern touches aren’t diluting our culture, they’re keeping it alive in new forms.” He adds, “We are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">reconnecting with our roots</a>, we have more resources, more awareness than ever before. We must not be swept away by western values that may not serve us, and in some ways, cause more harm than good. We must revive our own culture.”&nbsp;

Divine chariot

In 2025, two seemingly disconnected acts of violence shattered the illusion of stability in the region. In March, <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/16f7f947-1e96-4206-9844-891378adc683" target="_blank">militants hijacked a passenger train</a> near the Bolan Pass in Balochistan, executing soldiers in cold blood. A month later, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/22/world/asia/kashmir-terrorist-attack.html" target="_blank">gunmen in Kashmir’s</a> Pahalgam Valley massacred tourists. 
In both Islamabad and New Delhi, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/4/25/were-cursed-kashmiris-under-attack-across-india-after-pahalgam-killings" target="_blank">the reaction was reflexive:</a> condemn the violence, <a href="https://www.economist.com/asia/2025/04/22/india-and-pakistan-could-come-to-blows-over-kashmir" target="_blank">blame external enemies</a>, declare the situation contained. But South Asia’s leaders are not fighting terrorists alone. They are fighting the consequences of their own betrayals.
Across <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-26272897" target="_blank">Balochistan</a>, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-south-asia-11693674" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, <a href="https://www.crisisgroup.org/asia/south-asia/india/346-finding-way-out-festering-conflict-indias-manipur" target="_blank">Manipur</a>, and beyond, decades of <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/projects/enforced-disappearance-in-south-asia/" target="_blank">enforced disappearances</a>, broken promises, and brute militarisation have hollowed out the social contracts meant to hold these nations together. The grievances that drove rebellions from the 1940s through the 1990s – demands for dignity, recognition, and political agency – were never meaningfully addressed. They were buried beneath asphalt and propaganda, paved over by development projects and security checkpoints.
States may claim victory. But their victories are mirages, dissolving the moment anyone looks too closely. South Asia’s unfinished wars are not relics of a violent past. They are live ammunition, loaded into the future.
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/mar/24/he-only-wanted-revenge-the-bloody-insurgency-in-balochistan-gaining-lethal-momentum" target="_blank">Balochistan</a> has been at war with Pakistan for most of its modern history. Rich in gas, minerals, and coastline, the province has been plundered for decades under the language of national development. 
Projects like the <a href="https://eastasiaforum.org/2020/11/26/pakistans-three-evils-cpec-and-good-governance/" target="_blank">China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC)</a> promise progress but deliver exclusion: minerals are mined, ports are secured, but Baloch homes are raided. 
The insurgency endures not because of foreign conspiracies, as Islamabad endlessly insists, but because the Pakistani state remains incapable of seeing its <a href="https://thebalochistanpost.net/2025/01/enforced-disappearances-in-balochistan-in-december-2024-tbp-report/" target="_blank">Baloch citizens</a> as anything other than a security problem to be managed.
In <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/ranisingh/2016/07/12/kashmir-in-the-worlds-most-militarized-zone-violence-after-years-of-comparative-calm/" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, the Indian government claims to have <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/08/world/asia/kashmir-village-defense-committees.html" target="_blank">“normalised” the valley</a> after revoking its autonomy in 2019. It <a href="https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/conflict-between-india-and-pakistan" target="_blank">looks a lot like occupation</a>. Soldiers outnumber local leaders, dissent is criminalised, internet shutdowns suffocate public life. Tourism campaigns and investment summits cannot erase a generation raised under curfew and surveillance.
<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-66260730" target="_blank">Manipur’s descent into ethnic bloodshed</a> in 2023 exposed another fault line Delhi prefers to ignore. Long-simmering tensions between the Meitei and Kuki communities erupted into violence that shattered any illusions of northeastern integration. The central government’s delayed, politicised response made clear what many Manipuris had always suspected: they are citizens of India only when convenient.
Even the <a href="https://msf.org.au/rohingya-worlds-largest-stateless-population" target="_blank">Rohingya, stateless and exiled from Myanmar</a>, find themselves entangled in South Asia’s ethnonationalist calculus. Fleeing genocide, they are criminalised anew in Bangladesh and India – trapped between the countries that reject them and the memories that refuse to let them go.
South Asia’s states have excelled at suppressing rebellion. But failed at extinguishing the reasons rebellions rise in the first place. And the wars South Asia tries to forget at home have found new life abroad.
Across <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-06-17/modis-indian-government-accused-of-spying-silencing-critics/103974414" target="_blank">Canada, Australia, Britain, and the United States</a>, diasporic communities have become memory-keepers and, increasingly, <a href="https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/khalistan-supporters-hold-protest-outside-indian-consulate-in-vancouver-123092600087_1.html" target="_blank">the agitators</a> for the struggles their home states would rather erase.
Khalistan flags fly outside Indian consulates in Vancouver and <a href="https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/punjab/perturbed-over-waving-of-khalistani-flags-at-an-event-in-melbourne-india-warns-australia-of-khalistan-separatists-and-their-links-with-terror-groups-458320/" target="_blank">Melbourne</a>. Tamil activists march through London, demanding accountability for the <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/5/19/grim-reminder-sri-lankas-tamils-mark-15-years-since-end-of-civil-war" target="_blank">massacres in Mullivaikkal</a>. Kashmiri protests in Washington and New York refuse to let India’s crackdown slip into diplomatic amnesia.
For host countries, these movements pose uncomfortable questions. Freedom of expression collides with fears of extremism. Clashes erupt between communities carrying wounds that their new homelands.
Meanwhile, South Asian states pursue their adversaries across borders. India faces allegations of <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/canada-says-india-home-minister-ordered-campaign-against-sikh-activist-rcna177972" target="_blank">targeting Sikh activists for assassination in Canada</a> and the <a href="https://www.npr.org/2024/10/27/g-s1-29561/sikh-separatist-assassination-india" target="_blank">United States</a>. Pakistan continues to court Kashmiri separatists abroad while crushing Baloch dissent at home. <a href="https://apnews.com/article/sri-lanka-tamils-civil-war-dead-5b372b0bba567837c5a4d94250040e7d" target="_blank">Sri Lanka</a> lobbies furiously to brand Tamil diaspora organisations as fronts for terrorism, even as it stonewalls investigations into its own wartime atrocities.
The old insurgencies have not been defeated. They have been globalised. South Asia’s governments have long mistaken silence for stability.
In Punjab, India broke the back of the <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2023/10/06/india/india-canada-sikh-khalistan-analysis-intl-hnk/index.html" target="_blank">Khalistan insurgency</a> through brute force. The fields grew green again, the trains ran on time. But the wounds were never closed, the <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/why-is-indias-khalistan-separatist-movement-on-the-rise/a-65081729" target="_blank">movement’s heart beats</a> not in Amritsar but in Brampton and Surrey.
In Sri Lanka, the <a href="https://www.academia.edu/4738983/The_Man_Who_Destroyed_Eelam" target="_blank">military crushed the Tamil Tigers</a> with <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/01/17/death-of-the-tiger" target="_blank">overwhelming brutality in 2009</a>. <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/politics/article/3264148/we-want-our-children-back-sri-lankan-families-still-demanding-justice-their-missing-loved-ones" target="_blank">Tamil families still search for their missing</a>, still mourn their dead – and still organise across the diaspora for justice that remains undelivered.
In Kashmir, Delhi boasts of new <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2023/2/4/kashmir-is-bleeding-its-economy" target="_blank">highways and investment corridors</a>, showcasing the region as a trophy of unity. But when the visitors leave and the cameras are packed away, <a href="https://harvardlawreview.org/print/vol-134/from-domicile-to-dominion-indias-settler-colonial-agenda-in-kashmir/" target="_blank">the checkpoints, the raids, and the quiet despair remain.</a>
Victory parades fade. Grievance endures. Suppressing insurgency may end battles. It does not end the ideas that fueled them. In a region where <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/23/world/asia/kashmir-attack-india-pakistan.html" target="_blank">history is rarely past</a>, and memory is rarely voluntary, states that rule through repression are only ever buying time. And often, not very much.
South Asia’s unfinished wars are not accidents. They are the inevitable consequences of states that confuse conquest with consent, and erasure with reconciliation. They cannot legislate memory out of existence.
Every <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c15qyyzz89lo" target="_blank">disappeared son in Balochistan</a>, every <a href="https://medium.com/the-wvoice/the-half-widows-in-kashmir-fef80c6b88e9" target="_blank">half-widow in Kashmir</a>, every <a href="https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/focus/rohingya-refugee-crisis" target="_blank">refugee child born stateless in a Rohingya camp</a> carries forward the memory of betrayal – a memory that outlives soldiers, politicians, and peace accords alike.
The region’s future will not be decided by GDP figures or infrastructure projects alone. It will be decided by whether its governments can summon the political courage to face the truths they have long suppressed – or whether they will continue down a path <a href="https://theconversation.com/india-is-using-the-g20-summit-to-further-its-settler-colonial-ambitions-in-kashmir-205166" target="_blank">where forgetting is demanded</a>, and rebellion becomes inevitable.
Shyam Tekwani is a professor at the Daniel K. Inouye Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies in Hawaii. This <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/nexus_articles/ghosts-at-the-border-south-asias-unfinished-wars/" target="_blank">article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/security-nexus/" target="_blank">DKI APCSS Security Nexus.</a> The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of DKI APCSS, the Department of Defense, or the US Government. The appearance of external hyperlinks does not constitute endorsement by the United States Department of Defense (DoD) of the linked websites, or the information, products, or services contained therein. DoD does not exercise any editorial, security, or other control over the information you may find at these sites.

Balochistan to Kashmir

Most Nepalis thought they had seen the last of it after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/11-56-25-april-2015-wkc9q2an">the 25 April 7.8 magnitude </a>earthquake ten years ago. But the Himalaya had more surprises in store. On 12 May, another 7.3 magnitude tremor that some said was an aftershock, but was strong enough to itself be a major earthquake, struck Dolakha.&nbsp; Not many people had heard of Singati till then — a cluster of houses by the Tama Kosi River along a narrow gorge that is the roadhead to Rolwaling Valley.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_57b6e316656851f71eca56ca6f98d9bbcc820c1a00d62af3c990725b4361244d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250508110520_57b6e316656851f71eca56ca6f98d9bbcc820c1a00d62af3c990725b4361244d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_016534fb2b6a79957402281cda768efb83a146786377e39e11df3e251d37159e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250508110520_016534fb2b6a79957402281cda768efb83a146786377e39e11df3e251d37159e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>  It was here that dozens were killed on 25 April in the first earthquake. Hundreds of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Singati-rising-from-rubble-rebuilding,3703">Singati survivors</a> had lined up for food and relief supplies in the morning of 12 May when the second earthquake triggered a rock slide that buried a nearby camp. At least 50 people were killed. &nbsp; Three hours later, a US Marine Corps UH-1Y Venom helicopter landed in a nearby cornfield to pick up the wounded, and flew off. The aircraft lost contact with air traffic control in Kathmandu and its wreckage was located high on Kalinchok four days later. Six American servicemen, two Nepal Army soldiers, and five wounded civilians from Singati were killed. Today, Singati bears little physical scar of the multiple tragedies that struck the town ten years ago. Most <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bungamati-builds-back">houses have been rebuilt</a> as urban-style concrete structures, and Singati has become an economic hub on the road leading up to several hydropower plants and a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/off-the-beaten-trek-in-nepal"> popular trekking destination</a>.&nbsp; The town looks less like a village and more like a suburb of the Dolakha district headquarter of Charikot, 47km away.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_196f341d1df1403ba133e5dfeb837eec20d7cbcb4c8c56b17cc5598810de5df2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250508110520_196f341d1df1403ba133e5dfeb837eec20d7cbcb4c8c56b17cc5598810de5df2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110524_ae66c4a92430f67db51b5e11e017059eedfbac4cb18c8e073f2a50cca1fe904e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250508110524_ae66c4a92430f67db51b5e11e017059eedfbac4cb18c8e073f2a50cca1fe904e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>  “The demand for construction material, cement, iron rods and bricks peaked after the earthquakes,” says Suresh Khadka, who owns a hardware business here and now supplies material to the 456MW Upper Tama Kosi hydropower project that is undergoing repairs after it was damaged by a landslide last year. The demand for cement boomed since most residents believe, not necessarily correctly, that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state">cement houses are safer</a>. Although Khadka did well selling construction material after the earthquake, he worries that most new structures do not follow seismic-resistant building codes.&nbsp; The construction boom financed by bank loans has in turn forced many from Singati to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better">migrate overseas for work</a> so they can service their debt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110524_50caa4530bd5ff9120cf7ab70a62173846d337ef448ff8bac339f3faa375a9e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250508110524_50caa4530bd5ff9120cf7ab70a62173846d337ef448ff8bac339f3faa375a9e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> <figcaption>Suresh Khadka</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_ef8b7d3993fc3b5df852bbf952feb3fbabc96d6883b0d5eb74ee5c60f4123b83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250508110520_ef8b7d3993fc3b5df852bbf952feb3fbabc96d6883b0d5eb74ee5c60f4123b83" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> <figcaption>Phu Doma Sherpa (right)</figcaption> </figure>  “My family had no choice but to borrow money to rebuild our home since the government compensation was not enough, and ten years later we are still paying off the loan,” says Phu Doma Sherpa, 60. Because of the shortage of qualified masons and proper seismic engineering, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/structural-problems">many of the buildings are of questionable building standards </a>and the traditional architecture has been abandoned, admits Kul Bahadur Budathoki, deputy chair of the municipality. “But these buildings were more expensive than what the government grants could cover, many people here are heavily in debt and the men have <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/every-day-is-closer-to-pay-day">migrated to the Gulf to pay their loans</a>,” Budathoki says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_32f89e97b7e757fc9286c0bbb671f48ea8d4468e9634fa646d7247c650ad8480.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250508110520_32f89e97b7e757fc9286c0bbb671f48ea8d4468e9634fa646d7247c650ad8480" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1079" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> <figcaption>Kul Bahadur Budathoki</figcaption> </figure>  Singati is in a multi-hazard zone. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Singati,3091">12 May 2015 earthquake </a>could have led to the collapse of Nepal’s largest glacial lake, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/stairway-to-heaven">Tso Rolpa</a>, upstream. Due to global warming, the glacier has turned into an expanding lake 3.5km long, and its collapse would have unleashed a catastrophic Himalayan tsunami down the Tama Kosi Valley, with Singati directly in its path. Singati has literally risen from the ashes of 2015, with its residents beginning to recover from the trauma and financial toll. But it is not out of danger as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>magnifies the risk from future earthquakes.