If visitors to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there">Bardia National Park </a>are lucky, they can sometimes spot a bevy of otters frolicking with their pups along <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">the Karnali River.</a> Or they might be out fishing, brown fur gleaming in the sun as they emerge from the water with a fish in the mouth. But on a recent daytime visit to the national park in Kailali, there was no such luck. All that pointed to their presence were tracks on the sand by the banks of the Karnali (pictured, below).&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314030320_9c5ba49b740896453946aedc632f1cb8df8e886cda7107996f5a40893d99f016.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250314030320_9c5ba49b740896453946aedc632f1cb8df8e886cda7107996f5a40893d99f016" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Otters footprint "> <figcaption>Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  When it comes to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">wildlife</a>, the news cycle in Nepal is dominated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-conservation-nepal-is-not-out-of-the-woods-yet">tigers and rhinos</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/is-wildlife-conservation-a-victim-of-its-own-success-in-nepal">conservation success stories</a>. This means other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/lesser-known-endangered-species">endangered mammals </a>like pangolins and otters remain in the shadows.&nbsp; Many Nepalis are not even aware that otters exist in Nepal. There are three species found here: the Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra), Smooth-coated Otter (Lutrogale perspicillata), and Asian Small-clawed Otter (Aonyx cinereus). All are usually nocturnal, or most active at dawn or dusk to avoid predators like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/crocodile-chronicle">crocodiles</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/does-nepal-really-have-too-many-tigers">tigers</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/clouded-future-for-the-clouded-leopard">leopards</a>. Otter species found in Nepal prefer freshwater <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/importance-of-ecosystems-for-people-and-the-planet">ecosystems </a>along fast flowing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Himalayan rivers</a> and the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18976">wetlands</a> that they feed. The Asian Small-clawed Otter feeds on crabs and mollusks, the Smooth-coated otter, primarily found in rivers of Karnali and Narayani, preys on fish, playing a crucial role in maintaining balance in the aquatic ecosystem.&nbsp; Their dependence on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/solution-to-kathmandu-s-water-crisis">clean water</a> makes otters bioindicators, which means their abundance shows a healthy ecosystem and unpolluted water bodies.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-tigers-trees-and-rivers">People, tigers, trees and rivers</a>, Shashank Poudel “Otters hunt in the water, but they spend most of their time on land, often along the boulders and sand on the banks,” explains Arun Sonaha, otter conservation expert from the indigenous Sonaha community. Otter scat contributes to nutrient cycling as well as the fertilisation of riverbanks and wetlands, indirectly promoting vegetation. Smooth-coated Otters and Asian small-clawed Otters prefer lowland habitats. The former have adapted to survive in human-altered landscapes, and have been found to reside in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pouring-concrete-on-rice-fields">rice fields</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/infrastructure-for-wildlife-in-nepal">irrigation canals</a>.&nbsp; However, Eurasian Otters adapt to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-must-prepare-for-climate-migration">seasonal changes</a> by moving up to 3,660m during the summer, and migrating to lower elevations in the winter. The presence of Eurasian Otters has been recorded in 24 districts across Nepal, while the Smooth-coated and Asian Small-clawed species have been documented in 12 districts. Otters have been spotted in the Karnali, Narayani, Kosi, and Mahakali <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-nepal-ignore-climate-crisis-in-river-talks">river systems</a>. The smallest of the 13 known otter species, Asian Small-clawed otters, were recorded in Nepal for the first time in 185 years earlier this year in February in Dadeldhura.&nbsp; “We track the movement of Smooth-coated Otters using 18 camera traps in Bardia,” explains Aashish Kapali from the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/world-lost-2-3-of-its-animals-in-50-years-wwf-report">World Wildlife Fund (WWF) Nepal</a>. Smooth-coated otters have still been observed in healthy numbers along the Karnali, but the otter population is in decline. The smooth-coated otter and Asian small-clawed are currently listed as ‘vulnerable’ in the IUCN Red List, while the Eurasian Otter is ‘near endangered’.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314030324_f20e9290f9e92401be7a5c8c53d080c80e8c0583fa991def89bb3081329255dd.png" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20250314030324_f20e9290f9e92401be7a5c8c53d080c80e8c0583fa991def89bb3081329255dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1521" loading="lazy" alt="Otters 2"> <figcaption>PHOTO: SAGAR GIRI/ WWF NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/rivers-be-dammed">River damming</a>, indiscriminate and illegal fishing, changing rainfall patterns and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/decarbonisation-needs-to-begin-today">extreme weather</a>, rapid urbanisation in Nepal’s lowlands have contributed to loss of otter habitats and depletion of food sources. Pollution from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/20-years-ago-this-week/clearing-the-air-ha86ztz4">raw sewage and industrial waste </a>has also added to<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal"> habitat degradation</a> while <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/banned-pesticides-are-widely-used-in-nepal">pesticides </a>have directly impacted their prey population. “The pesticides sprayed on fields drain into the rivers, affecting the fish population,” says Kapali. “This reverberates across the food chain and affects otter numbers.”&nbsp; Until a few years ago, otter poaching also ran rampant. Between 1989 and 2017, 755 otter pelts were confiscated in Nepal but <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18566">communities living along the Karnali </a>have since stepped up efforts to protect the mammals. “Our continuous conservation efforts have meant that we currently do not have issues with poaching,” says Sonaha. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/protecting-pangolins-from-being-eaten-to-extinction"> Protecting pangolins from being eaten to extinction</a>, Sonia Awale Community members are also working to revive the indigenous knowledge about over-fishing, and they also get skills training for alternative livelihoods.&nbsp; “The training not only enables us to earn a living but also helps us conserve otters,” says Buddhi Singh Tharu, chair of Himal Samuha community group for otter conservation. Fishing in the river is still allowed, but it must be done in a way that ensures smaller fish and tadpoles, the primary prey for otters, are not caught. “We use fishing nets that allow smaller fish to escape so that numbers in the river are balanced and under control,” explains Tharu. Across <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepal-villages-cope-with-climate-induced-floods">Kailali and Bardia</a>, 15 Community River Stretch Management Groups have been established to conserve Smooth-coated otters. Women have been significantly more active in otter <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/women-conserve-men-still-conservative">conservation efforts</a>, with a 68% participation rate. Sudha Chaudhary, 45, was once a fisher, but now has transitioned to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-superfoods-of-the-andes-and-the-himalaya">chili and tomato farming</a> with support from WWF Nepal and believes that conserving otters is essential for maintaining and sustaining the Karnali ecosystem. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/conversation-with-mr-conservation">Conversation with Mr Conservation</a>, Sonia Awale Meanwhile, despite constant monitoring, sand mining and inadequate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/managing-everest-s-waste-problem">waste management</a> continue in the Karnali, including by local officials, destroying otter habitats. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/conservation-at-the-crossroads">Community conservation groups</a> here have expressed concerns about municipal authorities dumping waste near <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">the Karnali River</a>. However, experts also point to a lack of policies when it comes to otter conservation. While the Aquatic Animal Protection Act of 1961 and the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act of 1973 exist, they are inadequate for the conservation of these vulnerable semi-aquatic animals. Talks are underway for the government to approve a new action plan for otter conservation. For now, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepal-s-conservation-heroes">conservationists</a> emphasise the need for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/wildlife-people-coexistence-in-nepal-national-park">human-wildlife coexistence</a> to foster sustainable ecosystems that protect <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-great-trans-himalayan-bird-migration">Nepal’s biodiversity</a>, to achieve which continued <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepal-s-tigers">community conservation</a>, education and awareness efforts are crucial. Says Tharu: “It is our responsibility to conserve otters to ensure their survival for generations to come.”

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Saving the Karnali otters

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd1439c7e80680e08f8a3jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Loss of their favourite grass due to the spread of invasive vines have forced rhinos to venture outside Chitwan National Park, like this one in Sauraha in 2019. Photo: SAGAR GIRI</figcaption></figure>Between 1986 to 2017, as many as 100 rhinos were translocated from Chitwan to Bardia National Park. Three decades later, only 37 remain.The rhinos were taken to Bardia because the animals were dying due to overcrowding, increase in infrastructure, human-animal conflict, and frequent territorial fights among males in Chitwan National Park. Among the translocated animals, 55 were male and 45 female rhinos, and transferring them to Bardia was also an insurance in case disease felled rhinos in Chitwan, or they were washed away in floods as happened in 2017.A 2005 census put the rhino population in Bardia National Park at 67, but the number had slumped to 22 by 2008. Authorities at the Park say 34 rhinos fell prey to poachers. In 2020 alone, 4 rhinos were killed by ivory traffickers, dashing Nepal’s hopes of achieving a five-year streak of zero rhino poaching.“The population of the rhinos had been increasing prior to the surge in poaching last year,” says Bardia National Park conservation officer Bishnu Prasad Shrestha. “Poaching goes up whenever the attention is diverted, as happened during the conflict or the pandemic.”During the 1996-2006 insurgency, the Nepal Army that guards parks was deployed to fight the Maoists, and this became a boon to poachers. The number of the one-horned rhinos nationwide plunged during that period from 612 in 2000 to less than 375 by the end of 2005.Until the 1950s, Nepal boasted an estimated population of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505013000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHcaYrs6YwmjKnMqlrrq64_CE7Z9g">close to 1,000 Greater One-horned Rhinoceros</a> in the Chitwan region. At that time, the numbers dwindled because of habitat loss as Tarai jungles were cleared for settlements, hunting, and poaching.After the national parks were established, the military guarded the parks and brought poaching under control. The comeback of the rhinos and tigers in Nepal was regarded as an international success story. <figure><img width="966" height="1032" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd1469c7e80680e08f8a4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>After watering holes inside Chitwan National Park started drying up, rhinos often saunter around Sauraha for a drink. Photo: CHITWAN NATIONAL PARK </figcaption></figure>However, with the pandemic, security was relaxed and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/what-drives-wildlife-poaching/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/what-drives-wildlife-poaching/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505014000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEWDBsSgSYDrCnp4ysQerUTW-9sVA">poachers took advantage</a> of this. After five years of zero rhino poaching, Chitwan alone has lost four rhinos to poachers in the past year. This was of serious enough concern for the Nepal Army to launch ‘Operation Maha Hunt’ to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/wildlife-poachers-active-during-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/wildlife-poachers-active-during-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505014000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFZ1JxTs04zu09hxrt8Z8WzFoFpeg">track down poachers.</a>“While there was a surge of poachers during the pandemic, the rhino population in the region is increasing again,” says Shrestha. But there is enough evidence on the ground that points to continued threats faced by wildlife in Nepal.In April 2020, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/7-musk-deer-killed-by-poachers-during-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/7-musk-deer-killed-by-poachers-during-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505014000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFJUHWDShB6iRqEC74CERaCBXcFZA">poachers killed six endangered Himalayan musk deer</a> inside the Sagarmatha National Park, a protected area. Police in Bajura district seized wildlife contraband including tiger and leopard pelts, bones, bear gall bladders, and deer antlers from poachers intending to smuggle them into China in June 2020, providing evidence to the killing of animals in the conservation areas that were going unchecked.In Chitwan, rhinos prefer the western floodplain grasslands and riverine forests near the Rapti, Narayani and Reu rivers, and are relatively fewer in number on the eastern side of the park. A similar lack of watering holes and suitable grassland habitat along the Babai Valley in Bardia could be one reason for the decline of translocated rhinos. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd1489c7e80680e08f8a5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>The rhino’s favourite grasses are being over-run by invasive mikania micrantha, locally known as banmara. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Bardia National Park is constructing and managing artificial ponds and grasslands for rhinos and other wildlife, but it seems this not enough of an incentive for them to thrive.“Rhinos require watering holes in riverine areas as well as suitable grassland to rest and graze, both of which are lacking in Bardia,” says Joint Secretary of the Ministry of Forests and Environment Dr Ramchandra Kandel. “Bardia’s natural habitat is not suitable for rhinos.” <figure><img width="848" height="784" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd14b9c7e80680e08f8a6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A rhino washed down to India in a flood in 2017, being tranquilised and returned to Chitwan National Park three years later in August 2020.</figcaption></figure>Their preference of habitat makes rhinos especially vulnerable to floods during the monsoon. Moreover, the species face an increasing threat of inhospitable changes in their living environment brought about by calamities due to climate change.Massive flooding on the Rapti and Narayani rivers in Chitwan National Park swept away 11 rhinos along with other wildlife to India in August 2017—the last rhino was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/india-returns-nepali-rhino-swept-away-by-flood/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/india-returns-nepali-rhino-swept-away-by-flood/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505014000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEPVUGIJQJ9FDiE6ERhHaaSp6DTWw">repatriated</a> to Nepal in August 2020.Last year, 13 rhinos died due to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepals-rhinos/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepals-rhinos/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505014000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHpZMYldyLYcOO9pIxRfH3ltbmiTQ">flooding amid record-breaking rainfall</a> across much of Nepal. Chitwan—the primary sanctuary of the Greater One-horned Rhinoceros in the country—recorded 3,130mm of rain, significantly higher than the annual average in the region. According to the 2015 census, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609914505014000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHfknBmXXX2WcTsmgaIWONr1tsPhw">wildlife population in Nepal surged back</a>, over the years upping the total rhino population in the country to 645. Of these, at least 620 are in Chitwan National Park alone, with the rest scattered in Parsa, Bardia, and Shuklaphanta reserves.  Conservationists say that the tale of Bardia’s missing rhinos is an important reminder that suitablility of the habitat, food supply, and adequate water should be important considerations before translocating wildlife.

Where have Bardia’s rhinos gone?

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bac6c9c7e80680e077f2fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="780"/><figcaption>Himani Tharu is so frustrated with her job as the only female mahout in a Bardia National Park elephant camp that she mustered the courage to speak to a journalist. Photo: MUKESH POKHREL</figcaption></figure>Himani Tharu may be the first female elephant mahout serving in Nepal's national parks, but her story is hardly inspirational.Instead, it exposes a system that is unable to welcome gender inclusivity. She faces double discrimination: first because she is a woman and second for belonging to an indigenous community.Harassed by her lower-level co-workers, and ignored by senior staff, Himani says she hopes no one will follow in her footsteps and become a female mahout.“I wouldn’t wish this much suffering upon anyone,” she says.Born on the outskirts of the Bardia National Park, Himani Tharu, 27, grew up close to elephant sanctuaries, and was familiar with both elephants and the people who cared for them.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/3-4th-of-the-sky/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">3/4th of the sky</a>, EditorialDespite that, Himani did not really want to become a mahout. She had plans to graduate from school and get a regular office job. But ten years ago, the Public Service Commission put out a notice for the position of a female mahout, and her family encouraged her to apply because it supposed to be a stable government job.Himani struggled to keep up with the demands of her new profession: she had to learn to take care of elephants, collect grass, take the elephants out to graze, constantly feed them, and clean up after them. She was also required to ride the elephants on the Nepal Army’s jungle patrols.She loved the elephants, especially a baby one, and made friends with them. It was her human co-workers who were unhelpful, disrespectful and ordered her around.“Sometimes they would leave me alone in the middle of the jungle and I would get lost. Other times they would lead my elephant into the river and leave it there,” she says.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-better-halves/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s better halves</a>, Anil ChitrakarAs the only female among 30 mahouts at the national park, she is often targetted for bullying and harassment, but there is no one she could talk to because of the park's hierarchy.“Had there been about three or four of us women, they would not have dared misbehave but I am the only woman,” says Himani, recalling how her colleagues would deliberately make loud obscene conversations when she was around. When she told them to stop, they scolded her instead.Himani faced constant attacks on her character and integrity. Every time she even spoke to a fellow-mahout or asked for help from a male co-worker, she would subject to vicious teasing.“One of the senior male mahouts used to help me, but after other men in the camp started associating us he was intimidated and stopped coming near me,” says Himani.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/betterforbalance/">#BalanceforBetter</a>, Namrata SharmaAll complaints to senior officers at the camp were ignored, and Himani felt there was no point reporting her colleagues anymore when they engaged in lewd conversation when she was around.The whole system is gender-blind. The elephant camp does not have separate quarters for women, and she has to sleep in a dorm with 15 other men. It is worse when she had to go on overnight jungle patrols in Bardia National Park.Fed up with the treatment and frustrated with her job, Himani mustered the courage to speak frankly to a journalist. She said she had packed up to quit her job many times, but was always persuaded by her relatives and friends to stick it out.She says: “I am determined to find another job, and finally resign during this lockdown. I have put up with everything for so long, I don’t know how long I can take this.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/epidemic-of-online-sexism/">Epidemic of online sexism</a>, Shusma Barali<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Online-violence-against-women,2915" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Online violence against women</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Don’t follow my footsteps, says female mahout

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636babe99c7e80680e077f03jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="756"/>6 January, 2004. It was a foggy and cold winter morning in the western Tarai. As secretary of the Gauri Community Forest User Group, Bhadai Tharu was escorting a group of 15 villagers into the woods. They are allowed into the protected forest once a year to collect thatch and fodder.Tharu, now 51, was also responsible for the management of the forests that formed a vital biodiversity corridor for wildlife of the<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/bardiya-beginnings-Lisa-Choegyal,1085" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/bardiya-beginnings-Lisa-Choegyal,1085&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1593667729890000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5HS_bcD3YQWX6sCM0smVUf7xR9A"> Bardia National Park.</a>What started out as a perfectly normal day soon turned into a nightmare. The sun had burnt off the fog by noon, and Tharu and his colleagues heard a growl from the undergrowth of the sal hardwood forest.Before he knew what was happening, in a flash of orange the tigress leaped out of the bushes and went straight for Tharu’s face, swiping him with her mighty paw. The blow knocked him down, and he fell unconscious on the ground.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">It's a jungle out there</a>, Kunda Dixit<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/tiger-selfie-is-highest-ever-sighting-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Tiger selfie is highest-ever sighting in Nepal</a>, Mukesh PokhrelHis petrified team fled the scene, and the tigress dug her claws into Tharu’s face, gouging out his left eye. She was pinning him down with her forelegs when Tharu came to. Instinctively, he punched the big cat on her face, and the tiger slipped away, disappearing back into the jungle.He could feel warm blood pouring down his face, and stumbled back to the river crying out for help. Eventually, some nearby grass cutters came to his rescue, and he was rushed to hospital in Nepalganj where he spent a month recovering.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636babec9c7e80680e077f04jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">“I would have died if I had run”Krishna Shah was guiding a Dutch tourist on a day-long walking safari through the Bardia National Park in February 2016. They were tracking footprints and fresh dung which meant there were <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rhinos</a> nearby. Sure enough, they found the rhinos were grazing and the tourist was busy clicking away, when there was a terrific roar.The tiger appeared out of nowhere between the two, who both ran for their lives.  “After running for 20m I looked back to find no one behind me. I had lost my guest, and was worried the tiger had killed the Dutchman,” he recalls.With another guide, he circled back to the spot to look for his guest, who called down from a tree he had climbed to escape. What Shah did not know was that the tiger was waiting in ambush, and pounced on him from behind trying to get his jaws around his neck.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-many-tigers-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">How many tigers in Nepal?</a>, Kunda Dixit<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/champions-of-nepals-conservation-movement/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Champions of Nepal's conservation movement</a>, Lisa Choegyal“Had I chosen to run, the tiger would have definitely caught and killed me, I had no option but to fight back. It was a kill or be killed situation,” Shah, 38, remembers. “The tiger reared up on its hind legs to attack, and I poked it with a stick. It scratched me with its claws and pushed me to the ground.”The other guide then hit the tiger from behind with a tree branch, so the tiger decided he’d had enough and ran off. The group was rescued by a National Park <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/how-humans-can-live-with-wild-elephants%20,4179" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">elephant</a>, and Shah was lucky to escape with only scratches.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636babef9c7e80680e077f05jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="1500">Knocked unconsciousSundarlal Chaudhari’s life has revolved around his cattle that he grazes every day in the grasslands at the edge of the Bardia National Park. That day in February 2004 had been like every other, and as the winter sun started to set Chaudhari was walking home with 40 cattle from the Kailasi Community Forest, on the fringes of the Park.He did a swift mental count and realised one of his calf was missing. With three other herders, he went into the forest to find it, and spotted a tiger had half-eaten the calf. As Chaudhari got closer, the tiger attacked. His back and hands were mauled by the tiger’s fearful fangs. His companions shouted and yelled, and drove the tiger away. Chaudhari had already lost consciousness, and was rushed to hospital where he was lucky to make a full recovery.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636babf29c7e80680e077f06jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="1352">“The water buffaloes saved me” Last year, 67-year-old Mayaram Khanal from Geruwa Rural Municipality in Bardia was grazing his buffaloes near the National Park. Suddenly, a tiger attacked Khanal hurling him about 10m away. It then leaped down to finish him off when, incredibly, Khanal’s two water buffaloes came to his rescue. They swung their formidable horns at the tiger, chasing it away and saving Khanal’s life. The buffaloes are now treated like heroes in the village.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/is-wildlife-conservation-a-victim-of-its-own-success-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Is wildlife conservation a victim of its own success in Nepal?</a>, Mukesh PokhrelPost-scriptIn all of these close encounters with tigers, the lives of the people who survived went through a transformation.When Bhadai Tharu lost his eye, he was angry at the tiger making him disabled, and was determined to take revenge. “It was fate, but I thought if I saw that tiger again, I would kill it,” Tharu remembers thinking. “I was also angry at the people for not coming to my rescue earlier. But as my wounds healed, my anger diminished.”Bhadai Tharu is now a tiger conservationist, seeing the forest habitat as a place where animals and people have to co-exist. “Tigers are vanishing as their<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nature-without-borders/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nature-without-borders/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1593667729890000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEmja4W4JWuYu58vtHEOsu_sruO7A"> habitats</a> shrink, and when the tiger attacked me, it was just doing so to protect itself from danger,” he says.Today, Tharu trains locals in conservation practices, and provides educational material to local schools. He has also persuaded many poachers and smugglers to abandon their profession. They threatened to shoot him, but he seems to have lost all fear. He has even created inspection patrols to curb smuggling of tiger parts.It was all because of his near-death experience. “If I had not been attacked by that tiger, I would not be saving tigers. I came to understand them better and it became my duty to save them.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636babf59c7e80680e077f07jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="722">Having worked in indentured servitude as a kamaiya for much of his life, he also gained a newfound respect and self-confidence after the incident. “I lost an eye, but this does not worry me. I found a new path in life and gained respect,” says Tharu, who is determined to continue his conservation activities.He has received many national awards and the internationally-renowned Abraham Conservation Award for his efforts. In 2010, he was even paid a visit by Leonardo DiCaprio whose foundation supports tigers conservation in Nepal. After their chat, DiCaprio took off his shades and gifted it to Tharu, who still treasures it. Villagers have persuaded him to stay on as secretary of the Gauri Forest User Group.Krishna Shah is still an active safari guide. He can now tell what kind of tigers to avoid during jungle walks: old tigers, females with cubs, and tigers who cannot find prey because of injuries.Sundarlal Chaudhari still grazes cattle in the same forest where he was attacked despite the danger. “I can’t keep them tied up, and there is nowhere else to go,” he says. Last week, a buffalo calf belonging to his daughter-in-law was killed by a tiger.Mayaram Khanal is recuperating at home, and the Bardiya National Park paid his hospital bills. But the debt he owes the buffaloes that saved his life is too great to pay back.

Close encounters with tigers in Nepal

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;

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