<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb61c9c7e80680e07bc42jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1228" height="850"/><figcaption>Bagmati River in the 1950s.</figcaption></figure>“As far as I know, there is no one conducting the ritual these days,” began Ganesh Maya Khadgi as she gazed out from her home on the banks of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/encounter-with-bagmati-river" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Bagmati River</a> to the grey, slow-moving water just outside her door.She is referring to Naworatri, a ritual practiced by the Newas of Kathmandu during first nine days of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/dasain-once-more/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Dasain festival</a>, which this year fall in end-October. When she was young, she would join crowds of worshippers at two or three in the morning and they would walk together to the tirtha, holy sites on the banks of the river.On each day of the nine-day festival, they would travel to a different tirtha to cleanse themselves with holy water and offer puja to the river in the form of flowers placed on chaitya, small mounds of riverbank sand.“Why would anyone participate in this ritual anymore?” Ganesh Maya’s friendly, open face clouded over as she further poured out her disappointment.The communal pilgrimage along the rivers facilitated contact with the sacredness of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-ecology-of-worship-bagmati,3380" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the holy river</a>, she says, but due to the highly degraded quality of the water, even the most devout worshippers no longer want to make that connection. In some places, worship is not possible due to the accumulation of solid waste on the banks.Even if people are willing to make the holy ablutions with <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/page/15/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the polluted water</a>, Ganesh Maya says that there is not enough sand left in the riverbanks to construct the chaitya. She speaks fondly of her memories of conducting the rituals despite the pain she feels from their loss.Neither her children nor her grandchildren have visited the tirtha for Naworatri, but she understands their reasoning for changing their ritual practice. Due to river pollution, the entire purpose of the ritual has been lost.***<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb61f9c7e80680e07bc43jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1362" height="1322"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Across South Asia, rivers are regarded as sacred and are often worshipped as gods and goddesses, revered for the way they link heaven and earth. Some believe the rivers are homes to the divine, while others pray to the life-giving power inherent in the water. Because of this, rivers have historically played an essential role in the daily functioning of the communities built upon their banks.This is especially true in Kathmandu where the history of life in the valley is intimately connected with the rivers that define the landscape, so much so that its residents have often been referred to as members of the ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/resurrecting-bagmati-the-river" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bagmati Civilisation</a>’.Early settlements within the valley were clustered on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hilltops with farmland below on the river floodplains</a> to utilise the natural flow fluctuations of the monsoon. Despite the way that the rivers served agricultural functions, they were perceived as more than as natural economic assets.Instead, people saw themselves as living a balanced life with the environment, a belief that was reinforced by the traditional rites and rituals that have historically been tied to the rivers. Therefore, a harmony that emphasised co-existence and regeneration existed in the name of culture and religion.Now, however, those ties are being severed due to pollution and ideas about modernisation that relies upon the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/rivers-fighting-back,993" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exploitation of natural resources and spaces</a>. But what happens to the Bagmati Civilisation when its people can no longer bear to stand on the banks of their sacred river?***<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb6239c7e80680e07bc44jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Tej Maya Maharjan also grew up going to the rivers for ritual events, watched this change occur throughout her life. She was elderly at the time of this interview, and has since passed away. Tej Maya visited the Kankeshwori Temple almost every morning for 70 years, and said the time she spent there was the highlight of her days.These visits were essential parts of both her religious and social life. She was widowed at a young age without children, and spent most of her life as a single woman. Instead, she found a family and a sense of community at Kankeshwori Temple. Tej Maya and her friends would gather along the river at the temple and whether they were singing songs, performing puja, or gossiping about their daughters-in-law, these morning trips for religious and social connection brought her joy throughout her entire life.Tej Maya emphasised the importance of conducting rituals at the temple for their role in childhood development. From a very young age, she would join her friends at the Bishnumati River every day during the Newa month of Yalaato collect Nil La:, sacred water, and make chaitya.“We would collect leaves from the pipal tree which had fallen on the ground. We would put some rice grain, tika power, and flowers on the leaf and twist the top and bottom ends, light a wick on the leaf then put it on the flowing water and watch it flow down the river. Then we would all walk to the temple with Nil La: to offer it to all the shrines present in the temple and offer puja,” Tej Maya said.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb6269c7e80680e07bc45jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>For Tej Maya, conducting this ritual was the first time she and her friends had done puja or gone to the temple unaccompanied by adults, and therefore, they learned the procedures of the rites and how to take responsibility for the rituals on their own. Because children are no longer spending time at the rivers and riverside temples, with or without family members, Tej Maya and many others say that the youth of Kathmandu does not have the same understanding of the rituals or how to conduct puja.Although religious activity continues, increasingly, people say that the rituals are often conducted simply because they are tradition but there is less consideration for, or knowledge of, the meaning behind the actions being performed. This has a fundamental impact on the practice of religion and some of the most foundational tenets of the Bagmati Civilisation.One example of this is the way that the practice of bara (gufa halne in Nepali) is shifting. In a Newa girl’s life, the bara has traditionally been one of the most important and celebrated milestones. In this marriage to the sun, girls who are approaching puberty are kept in a dark room for eleven days, during which they cannot be exposed to the sun, nor see any men. This is not a period of isolation though, and instead, the days are filled with visits by female friends and relatives.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb62a9c7e80680e07bc46jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the past, parents would bring pebbles from the nearby river to the room for the girl to play with. But these days, since there are no pebbles in the river, people use construction gravel instead. After the marriage to the sun was completed on 12th day of the ritual period, the girl would return the pebbles to the river on 13th day and perform puja on the banks, using her newfound knowledge to give thanks to the river for all that it provides.Increasingly though, families are sending their daughters to monasteries for a few days where they are taught the rituals by religious practitioners. In this changing practice, there is no connection with the river, and many say that a key component of bara is lost. Instead of being a coming-of-age period for elders to teach young girls about womanhood and religious practice that culminates with puja on the riverbank, the ritual is now frequently celebrated in banquet halls and party palaces staged for Instagram-worthy spectacles.Just as elements of bara are changing partially out of convenience and partially to distance the ritual from the polluted riverbanks, residents of Kathmandu, both religious practitioners and lay people, have observed a gradual shift in conceptions of the water that can be considered jal, or holy water.Chudamani, a Bajracharya priest, explains that river water is the purest of all forms and sources of water and has therefore traditionally been considered the only source of jal. “But instead of trying to preserve and restore river water, which is so essential for religious purposes, people are making changes in their cultural rituals due to the pollution,” he continued. In practice, this means that the definition of what counts as sacred water has expanded as an adaptation to changing environmental conditions.Macha Bhai Maharjan is a Niti Puja Pujari meaning he performs puja daily to the deity of the Kankeshwori Temple. He has spent innumerable hours at the temple and on the banks of the river, collecting sacred water for cleansing the temple. The river was a source of life for him but after he saw human feces floating in the water when collecting jal for a ritual, he says he has never returned to the banks of the Bishnumati.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb62d9c7e80680e07bc47jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCnPUqlrZJcMacha Bhai’s experience is not an anomaly. As <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/when-it-comes-to-water-pollution,3196" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the rivers became more polluted</a>, people began sourcing jal from wells bored near the river, their proximity affording the water extracted from them the same ritual significance as the river water once held. However, due to the rapidly depleting groundwater table, many of those wells have gone dry, or have become just as contaminated as the rivers that worshippers were trying to avoid. Once again, the devout were forced to search for alternative sources.***In the Hindu belief system, while river water is considered the most sacred, all water that is moving is pure. Under this definition, people could interpret the water coming out of the taps and dhunge dhara also as jal. Initially, water stored in tanks was not considered to be suitable for ritual purpose, but for many, this has changed once again. Now every temple has a tank that is filled by the municipality and there is no longer a need to visit the river.Macha Bhai’s experience with contamination in the Bishnumati was the moment he says he realised the sacred river no longer held its religious significance. He too uses water sourced from a tank at Kankeshwori Temple for his daily puja. While changes like this are upsetting to Chudamani, he says that despite his role as a priest, he and the others in his lineage profession “cannot do anything about it” and that he too limits his exposure to the once sacred water.The dissociation from the rivers, which have historically been considered the lifeblood of the city, happened gradually over a couple of generations. Just 30 years ago, many residents of Kathmandu remember swimming in the rivers and creeks that cross the valley. The rivers were wide and shallow with sandy bottoms that they could wade across. But a population growth rate that places Kathmandu among the fastest-growing cities in South Asia, coupled with the widespread adoption of water-intensive household and commercial amenities including flush toilets, washing machines, and solar water heaters without the construction of adequate wastewater treatment infrastructure has resulted in vast amounts of grey and black water end up in the riverways. Additionally, direct solid waste dumping, encroachment, and illegal and uncontrolled <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/crushing-tale-of-Chure" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sand mining have all contributed to the degradation of the riverscapes</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb6309c7e80680e07bc48jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When this period of urban development first began in the 1980s, sewer and stormwater lines were directed to the Bagmati River intentionally with the idea that all pollutants would be washed away. Although the Bagmati naturally experiences wide fluctuations in flow rates because it is a seasonal, monsoon-fed river, now regardless of the season, the dilution capacity of the river is so low, and the level of contamination is so great, that the flow is predominately wastewater. In many places in Kathmandu Valley, the river is considered dead, meaning it can no longer support biodiversity. Many say that with the death of the Bagmati, the Bagmati Civilisation has also been lost.Despite the biological and spiritual death of the Bagmati and its tributaries, the rivers have become points of focus for infrastructure development in the name of modernisation. Currently, the construction of walled river corridors, managed by the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA), is used as the primary intervention to address <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/deep-water,3883" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">flooding in the urban core</a>. These corridors are also meant to help improve the flow of traffic and to reduce congestion in other parts of the city.Now almost every stream and river in the valley has been straightened and confined by concrete walls, the widths of which are set as per the 20-year flood provisions. But due to changing monsoon rainfall patterns and the concretisation of the valley, 20-year floods are occurring every five years or less.The riverbeds have also long since been depleted of sand, mined for concrete to fuel the construction boom of the metropolis. Now that the rivers contain few natural resources, some have gone as far as to advocate that they are covered completely in concrete. In some places, they already have been.***<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb6339c7e80680e07bc49jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Shiv Kumar Basnet, the Executive Director of the Water Resource, Research, and Development Center at the Ministry of Energy, Water Resources and Irrigation says that encroachment on the rivers and settlement in the rivers’ right-of-way has made it so that normal flooding events now cause property damage and seem even more devastating.“Constraining the rivers is like putting a bird in a cage,” Basnet says. He thinks that from an ecological standpoint, as well as when considering what is best for urban development, the rivers ought to flow freely.Many agree with him, including <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Hutaram-Baidya-passes-away-at-93,994">the late Huta Ram Baidya</a>, a prominent social activist who spoke extensively on the need to save the Bagmati to save its civilisation. Baidya used to say: “The river is our nature, we should never destroy with nature, but live side by side with it. Instead of controlling its rivers, Kathmandu must work to conserve them.”When Huta Ram Baidya looked out across the Bagmati from his home near its banks at Thapathali, he wondered about one thing: “Can modernisation exist without culture?” For truly sustainable development of cities such as Kathmandu, the centuries-old cultural rites and rituals associated with the rivers, which incorporate knowledge of both spiritual beliefs and sustainable land-use practices accumulated over thousands of years, must be preserved to help the city grow in harmony with natural ecological systems.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151116/636bb6369c7e80680e07bc4ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Rajani Maharjan is an environmental anthropologist affiliated with the Small Earth Nepal (SEN), an environmental research group.Madison Wrobley is a 2019-2020 Fulbright-National Geographic Storytelling Fellow who studies water insecurity, primarily in Kathmandu Valley, and is now based in Colorado.

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How the Bagmati Civilisation is becoming uncivilised

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70569c7e80680e060072jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2088" height="1474"/><figcaption>Aerial view of Baudha</figcaption></figure>Swiss geologist <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2692#.VRzIePmUdQ4" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Toni Hagen</a> first came to Nepal in 1950, crisscrossed the mountains and plains on foot to find out the kind of rocks the country was made of. His detailed stratigraphic cross sections of Nepal for the first time gave us an idea of what lay beneath our feet.Along the way he also took thousands of photographs and film which have been carefully archived by his family in Switzerland. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2692#.XhlEIy2Q0Wo" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Toni Hagen died in 2003</a>, but the images represent a time capsule of the land and people, and show us the way we were.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70599c7e80680e060073jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1327"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some of these photographs were included in the multiple editions of <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19173" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal</a>, the classic book about the country first published in 1962 which <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/a-serious-swiss-toni-hagen-nepal,888" target="_blank" rel="noopener">introduced Nepal to the world</a>, and through its Nepali language edition, to Nepalis themselves.Now, the Nepal Heritage Society has published another collection of Toni Hagen’s photographs of Kathmandu Valley, some of which were included in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/kathmandu-valley-then" target="_blank" rel="noopener">an exhibition at the Nepal Art Council</a> in 2015 on the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/tony-hagen-kathmandu-exhibition,3946" target="_blank" rel="noopener">centennial of Toni Hagen’s birth.</a><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b705c9c7e80680e060074jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="423"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70609c7e80680e060075jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="423">Vishnumati flowing clean and blue with Langtang peering over Shivapuri ridge. The Bagmati at Thapathali with a monsoon cumulus looming above Pulchoki.Toni Hagen: Photos of Kathmandu Valley 1950-1960 is edited by his physician daughter, Katrin, with extended captions by history professor Poonam Rajya Laxmi Rana. The book contains photographs that have not yet been published combined with accompanying historical text. This is an important work that shows us Kathmandu in aerial photography 70 years ago, neighbourhoods and street scenes that have long gone, but there are also plenty of reminders of how the inner city bahals and squares have not changed much in the six decades since the photographs were taken.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70639c7e80680e060076jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2638" height="1778"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>‘The photos and films by my father have immense value not only for the archives but for the studies of glaciers, as many of them have changed due to climate change,’ write Katrin Hagen in her preface. ‘The pictures of the old days are somehow a cultural heritage … there was no water supply, no sanitation facilities. But the water of the Bagmati was clean, there was no plastic waste.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70669c7e80680e060077jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1267"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Indeed, the book allows us to travel back in time to a Kathmandu where the Bagmati reflects the deep-blue monsoon sky, dark rain-heavy monsoon clouds draping the familiar outline of Pulchoki, the green paddy terraces  encircling towns with earthy brown sloping tile roofs. And, possibly because he was from Switzerland, almost all of Hagen’s photographs have as their backdrop snow mountains in the background.Buffaloes wallowing in Chapagain have Dorje Lakpa in the background. Oxen pull a plough with Ganesh Himal glistening on the horizon. Women in Not Danda carry firewood, with the entire panorama of the Central Himalaya on the horizon. In one photograph from Sanga on a clear day, you can see clear across Nepal to the Annapurnas.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b706a9c7e80680e060078jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1301"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Hagen chartered a six-seater Haviland biplane in Patna and flew it into Gauchar to take the first ever aerial photographs of Kathmandu Valley in 1950. One black-and-white photograph from above Hanuman Dhoka looking east towards Tundikhel shows just how much the city has changed and how much of it remains the same. There is Tundikhel with the khari tree in the middle, the temples of Kathmandu Darbar Square, Bhugol Park, the open space around Dharara and the two-storey buildings of Khichapokhari.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b706d9c7e80680e060079jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1347"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ambica Shrestha, President of the Nepal Heritage Society that published the book, says in an introduction: ‘Sharing these photos reminds those who witnessed Kathmandu’s past, and those who did not have the good fortune to do so, to see and experience the scenes and atmosphere of the time.’Rana’s explanatory text provide the background to the images, giving he historical context. The words accompanying the rare aerial photograph of Singha Darbar, for instance, traces the history of neo-classical Rana architecture. There is one anecdote about Jung Bahadur being asked by a foreign visitor why his palace did not have an indoor toilet. His answer: “We do not go to the toilet, the toilet comes to us.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70709c7e80680e06007ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1318"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Toni Hagen: Photos of Kathmandu Valley 1950-1960Edited by Katrin Hagen, Text by Poonam Rajya Laxmi RanaNepal Heritage SocietyVajra Books, 2019176 pages     Rs4,000<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70739c7e80680e06007bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="451">For more photographs from the book <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/kathmandu-valley-then" target="_blank" rel="noopener">click this link to the 2015 exhibition</a> of Toni Hagen’s photographs.

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Who is accountable for teacher-student relationships?

Early on Monday morning, a bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu plunged off the highway in Dhading killing 19 passengers. Two weeks ago, another bus fell into the Tama Kosi in Manthali, killing 12. A few days before that a bus crash in Baitadi killed 13 people.&nbsp; In just the month before Nepal's election, more than 50 people have been killed in road traffic accidents. Most of these cannot be called 'accidents'. They are a direct result of poorly maintained highways and lack of enforcement of traffic discipline. Political parties in Nepal have rolled out their election manifestos, and voters are once again presented with a flood of promises. Page after page, these documents list megawatts and microcredit, highways and airports, jobs and investment. In these manifestos, growth is quantified, projects itemised, revenue forecast — and there are even threats to beat up contractors who do not finish their jobs. But when everything is declared a priority the stale promises are empty. The voter is left confused as to where the party’s loyalties really lie. Will any of these plans and pledges actually ever materialise and help Nepalis live longer, safer, healthier lives? The main job of any accountable government is to protect its citizens, not so much from foreign enemies but from domestic mismanagement. And this means the most basic test the new government should be made to pass is whether it can ensure basic well-being and protection for all its people. The problems of safety, health, and survival remain unresolved for most Nepalis, and are quietly eroding their lives. In the past year alone, the country’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">roads and highways claimed more than 2,300</a> lives. An estimated 41,000 Nepalis die each year directly because of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous">air pollution</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/air-pollution-killing-season-starts-early">lifespans are lessened by 3.4 years</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health">Non-communicable diseases</a> now account for well over half of total deaths in the country. And even where survival has improved, deprivation remains. Chronic malnutrition continues to haunt communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mass-migration-from-muktikot">Nepal’s western mountains</a> despite progress in maternal and child health.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  These are the lived realities of most Nepalis, and it is here that development can deliver its most immediate returns. A rising GDP, in and of itself, does not make roads safer, clean polluted air, or provide enough nutrition to children. Such outcomes demand intentional, granular policies that confront the specific, everyday problems shaping people’s lives.&nbsp; Macroeconomic growth, trade and investment are important, but these alone cannot guarantee improvements health and safety. The word ‘growth’, after all, is also synonymous with malignancy. Economic progress and human protection are correlated only when governance deliberately links them. Impact on life is the unit in which ordinary Nepalis calculate progress. What is needed, then, is a governing philosophy measurable in these same terms: a ‘life-first’ standard where every policy, budget, and reform can be understood and judged by its impact on protecting and extending human life. Such a ‘life-first’ approach would scrutinise three aspects of every policy. First, whether the policy prevents loss of life. A death is termed preventable if better, more coordinated response systems and regulations could have avoided it (vaccines, drugs, road safety, clean drinking water). A newly built six-lane highway <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/highway-accidents-are-no-accident-in-nepal">can be a death trap</a> due to poor design or lax enforcement of safety rules. If neonatal deaths continue in a district despite hospitals being present, or if malnutrition claims lives in predominantly agricultural regions, they too are failures. Preventable deaths also cluster where accountability is less direct. Just last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicides-a-pandemic-within-a-pandemic">Nepal recorded 6,866 suicides</a>, with nearly 20 lives lost every day, yet these deaths fail to prompt any serious examination of governance. The same holds for fatalities linked to domestic or communal violence, alcohol and substance misuse, or ‘natural’ disasters, which register as ‘tragedies without remedy’ rather than as outcomes policy can influence. But when avoidable loss of life recurs at scale, isolated incidents become patterns, and patterns reveal systemic neglect. Saving lives, however, is only the first step, and what matters just as much is the quality of years lived. Nepal’s life expectancy now stands at 71 years, yet many citizens spend years in avoidable disability, untreated chronic illness, or mental distress. A life- first government must ask not only whether people live, but whether they thrive. Are citizens able to pursue education, work, and family life without fear of preventable harm? Do communities have access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and basic healthcare? Can a teenager anywhere in Nepal imagine a future not foreclosed by premature marriage, or untreated depression?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940" data-rendition-name="original" width="2529" height="1427" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  Thriving requires policies that prevent suffering and promote well-being in addition to ensuring survival.&nbsp; Finally, governance must consider graceful aging. Elderly Nepalis should not be left to navigate disease, poverty, or isolation alone. Social systems, healthcare, and community support must enable their continued participation and dignified well-being. Adopting this three-layered standard would gradually reorient how success of any new government is defined. Transportation would be judged by fatalities reduced on the roads. Electricity generation would be measured by whether households can switch from firewood dependence to smoke-free electric stoves.&nbsp; Increase in annual rice harvest must translate into better nutrition, reducing the prevalence of chronic diseases like diabetes. Accountability must follow problems rather than stop at Singha Darbar. Only then will politicians and bureaucrats eventually recognise that their work converges on the same human endpoint. Critics will argue that economies are complex, trade-offs are inevitable, and that governance cannot be reduced to a single metric.But, as Acemoglu and Robinson show in their book <a href="https://ia801506.us.archive.org/27/items/WhyNationsFailTheOriginsODaronAcemoglu/Why-Nations-Fail_-The-Origins-o-Daron-Acemoglu.pdf">Why Nations Fail</a>, the key difference between prosperity and poverty lies in inclusive institutions that empower citizens and create broad incentives for well-being.&nbsp; Extractive institutions concentrate power and wealth in the hands of a few while keeping the majority trapped in neglect. Nepal’s governance has remained a striking example of extraction. If lawmakers in the new Parliament continue to resist changes that would save and improve the lives of ordinary citizens, the same systemic rot will persist for generations to come. A life-first mentality can cut through this inertia by clarifying the moral centre of governance and reminding policymakers that behind every policy failure lies human cost. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-hunger">Every mother in Bajura</a> with a child going hungry at night, every farmer in the Madhes unable to afford medical care, and every family that has lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">a migrant son to kidney failure</a> understands the true <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating">value of a life saved</a>. Life is the one metric that transcends ideology, ethnicity, and region. Centering governance on this single, focused metric, can shift an election from a contest of rhetoric to a contest of evidence. Which party ensured access to safe water and basic healthcare? Which made work at home and abroad safer and less exploitative. Which measurably extended healthy years of life for ordinary citizens? Health is wealth. By improving the healthy lifespan of citizens economic prosperity would follow naturally. A ‘life-first’ governance model would therefore compel Nepal to address the underlying structural failures across all sectors, rather than merely alleviating their symptoms. The GenZ protest that toppled the government last September was, at its core, a demand for accountability and a rejection of politics as usual. But as the country edges closer to the polls, that clarity has started to dissipate. Parties are now echoing the language of reform, but the public discourse remains dominated by promises that feel disconnected from Nepal’s most immediate and basic priorities. Every preventable death, every hungry child, and every neglected elder becomes a direct failure of governance and a moral debt the state must answer for. It is how we can make sure we keep the next government in check. The writers are Nepali GenZ students of biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Nepal’s life or death election

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

Party flags and banners wave from electric poles, houses and e-rickshaws are festooned with posters. Madhes Province is in the grip of election fever, and in a tour through four of its districts, there is the sense that any efforts by mainstream political parties at reforms have come too little too late. Among the banners, the sky blue of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/new-vs-new-in-nepal"> RSP is more prominent </a>here this time, and the rallying cry across the country for new and improved leadership is echoed on the ground. “For the people around here, whatever these old leaders are saying has become just noise,” says a lassi shop operator in Janakpur, waving a dismissive hand at flags with the NC’s tree symbol across the street. In Janakpur, UML nominee Raghubir Mahaseth was barred from canvassing door-to-door. Campaign posters of the mainstream parties have been torn from walls and replaced with RSP posters.&nbsp; In Inarwari village of Rautahat in the Madhes heartland, local elected officials whose parties have been merged into the Nepali Communist Party hope to retain enough supporters this election. But not many residents say they would vote for its candidate. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SHRISTI KARKI</figcaption> </figure>  A first-time voter in Sarlahi’s Haripur is home on a semester break from medical school in Kathmandu, and is waiting excitedly for 5 March. “You can’t really say out loud whom you’re voting for around here,” he says, as he mimes ringing a bell. “It is time for someone new to be in-charge." In the highway town of Bardibas, an elderly teashop owner says that all she hears are calls for घण्टी, the RSP’s bell symbol. “After all, bells are rung in the house of gods,” she says. “It seems like the right choice.” The RSP wave sweeping the nation after the GenZ movement is seen in Madhes, and the PR ballots might reflect that, notes political analyst Tula Narayan Shah.&nbsp; “But the socio-cultural networks, organisational setup, and legacy of democratic movement of traditional parties might still give them a fighting chance on the first past the post ballot,” he says. &nbsp;“The door-to-door campaign style of candidates has always been more prominent in Madhes than elsewhere.”&nbsp; Villages like Dhankaul in Sarlahi-4 where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grand-split-in-nepal-s-grand-old-party">Gagan Thapa</a> of the Nepali Congress (NC) is running against incumbent Amresh Singh, is an NC stronghold. Singh won the election here twice before in 2013 and 2017 when he was an NC leader, and still had goodwill among NC voters when he ran and won as an independent during the 2022 election. “I voted for him twice before when he was in the NC, but he did not do anything for this or other villages. Once he is elected, he has not set foot here,” says Rajiv Yadav, a voter in Dhanakul. “The RSP will get more votes here than last time, but Gagan is sure to win. This village will vote for him.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  Madhes is in the spotlight this election because two prime ministerial candidates have focused their attention in the region. Balen Shah began his campaign in Janakpur (main picture, left) in January as a ‘Son of Madhes’, and Gagan Thapa chose Sarlahi-4 as his constituency over Kathmandu-4, from where he has been elected since 2013.&nbsp; The Madhes has always been the battleground for Nepal’s electoral politics, and candidates from here, like Krishna Prasad Bhattarai from Parsa, Pushpa Kamal Dahal from Siraha, Jhala Nath Khanal from Sarlahi, and Madhav Kumar Nepal from Rautahat, have all been prime ministers. Despite electing politicians to high office in Kathmandu, districts of Madhes have consistently ranked low in development and service delivery indicators, especially in basic healthcare and education. Socio-economic inequalities stemming from a lack of opportunities has also meant that Madhes districts have the highest rate of out-migration in the country.&nbsp; What is different this time is that the people of the province have a Madhesi prime ministerial candidate who will represent them in national politics, and the main competition ultimately will be between the NC and RSP prime ministerial candidates. Interestingly, voters seem to be looking beyond Madhes-based parties who have historically campaigned on identity and federalism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  “Leaders of Madhes parties have glorified their struggle for votes but failed to perform on good governance at local and provincial levels,” explains Tula Narayan Shah. “Now, Balen has become a PM candidate as a face of the region, and as someone who will deliver based on his work as Kathmandu mayor.” If the RSP wins, it will be governing in the absence of provincial leadership that would play a crucial mediatory role between Kathmandu and local units. On Wednesday, RSP’s Madhes province chair Mamta Sharma resigned from the party and joined the NC. There is also some underlying tension between RSP cadre loyal to Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane. “It is not prudent to predict who will win the election and whether parties will deliver on promises,” says Tula Narayan Shah. “But win or lose, there is little basis at this time to believe that the RSP will be committed to making the federal system and provinces more functional.” Voters here in the heart of the federalism movement, however, are willing to give the RSP the benefit of the doubt. &nbsp;Resident Brahma Dev in Janakpur told us: &nbsp;“The RSP, like parties that came before them, deserve a chance to prove their leadership in the next five years. If they do not deliver, we can always vote them out next time.”&nbsp; On Wednesday, NC leaders unveiled the party’s 10-point election manifesto at a large rally in Janakpur (main picture, right). Gagan Thapa began by addressing a cheering crowd in Maithili, and said the NC was reformed, adding:&nbsp; “The GenZ did not reject us, they told us to change our ways.” Also on Wednesday 800km away at the other end of the country in Dhangadi, Balen Shah, in a speech that lasted just three minutes, he said: “Don’t vote for us, give us work to do.”&nbsp;