<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222d59c7e80680e0c0319jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800"/><figcaption>Bhaktapur Darbar Square. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Restoration of monuments damaged in the 2015 earthquake have been carried out differently in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-monumental-rivalry/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu</a>, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/restoring-a-piece-of-nepals-history/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lalitpur</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapur-shows-the-way-by-rebuilding-itself/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bhaktapur</a>, and this has depended a lot on the political will and community involvement to adhere to traditional building methods and materials.The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/righting-heritage-%20reconstruction-gone-wrong,3670" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cohesiveness of the community</a> living in the historic core of the three cities has also determined the pace and accuracy of reconstruction after the 2015 earthquake.Since Bhaktapur and Lalitpur have retained much of the historic sense of community and have elected more accountable mayors, restoration there has gone much better than in Kathmandu.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222d89c7e80680e0c031ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="750"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>For example, restoration work on the Trailokya-Mohan Narayan temple in Kathmandu is now complete. The plastered walls, wooden colonnade, cornices and tile roofs of the three-storey shrine on a five-stage brick plinth at Hanuman Dhoka have returned to their pre-2015 state.However, for specialists like German architect <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/love-of-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Wolfgang Korn</a>, the restoration is not quite what it should be. He was surprised to see that the temple had been rebuilt with unpainted plaster that is Rana-style, and not Malla-era as it should be.“The struts in Malla-era temples are always carved, with the red dachi appa used as veneer bricks,” says historian Dinesh Raj Panta, according to whom the temple was originally built in the late 17th century by Parthivendra Malla, Pratap Malla’s son. This makes the white walls uncharacteristic.Restoration of the nearby Maju Dega is not yet complete, and scaffolds and green net cover the construction. Korn, who made detailed measurements of the temple in the 1970s (see accompanying piece, below) fears that Maju Dega will also repeat the mistakes on the Trailokya-Mohan Narayan.“The Department of Archaeology requires only traditional materials and methods be used in rebuilding these sites,” says Korn. “So, I ask myself why this Rana-style on a Malla-era temple? Where are the carved struts?”Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The history of heritage</a>, Ashish DhakalSanjeev Man Shrestha, who is a retired engineer with the Department of Archaeology (DoA) and was involved in the reconstruction of the Trailokya-Mohan temple, says that the verification of the rebuilt structure is in fact based on photographic evidence. And photos taken before 2015 show both temples with white plaster walls and, in the case of the Narayan temple, with some uncarved struts on the second and third tiers.“We do not know if it was indeed renovated previously,” Shrestha adds, “but we have used all original materials in the rebuilding wherever possible, even renovating the broken and cracked timber, and replacing with replicas where necessary.”Architect Amit Bajracharya at the Hanuman Dhoka Darbar Square Conservation Program says that 80% of the wooden windows, doors, pillars and struts were recovered after the earthquake and they have been used in the restoration.It could be that some of the temples in Kathmandu have been restored to their pre-2015 form, but this is not necessarily what they looked like before the 1934 earthquake. This has thrown up questions of how far back we should go when restoring a monument.Kathmandu has also seen geopolitical competition in restoration, with the Chinese helping rebuild the Hanuman Dhoka Palace, the Americans involved in the restoration of Gaddi Baithak, and the Japanese of other temples in the palace complex.Read Also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandus-temple-restoration-after-1934-quake/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Kathmandu's temple restoration after 1934 earthquake</a>, Sahina Shrestha<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222da9c7e80680e0c031bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Over in Bhaktapur, the town’s main gate was plastered white during the Rana-era. It was damaged again in 2015, but architects there have retired it to its Malla-era state with exposed bricks.“We wanted it to look traditional, keeping with how it must have appeared when it was built,” explains architect Ram Govinda Shrestha of Bhaktapur Municipality.Nearly all of Bhaktapur’s monuments damaged in 2015 have been restored because of active cooperation between the local communities and the municipality.Shrestha says the municipality used three approaches for renovation: by the community, by the municipality and through DoA contractors: “In all three approaches, the community was involved in supervision. Woodworkers, masons and craftspeople were also selected by the people, and the municipality helped with finding funds.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222dd9c7e80680e0c031cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Lalitpur, most renovation and rebuilding projects were undertaken through the Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust (KVPT) with active community participation.Says KVPT’s Rohit Ranjitkar: “There was minimal bureaucracy, and the work was completed through coordination of the local government and the community. KVPT has also been working in Patan since 2008, which means that the locals trust us.”It is different in Kathmandu because it does not have the level of expertise that the other two cities of the Valley have, and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/rebuilding-kasthamandap-nepal,4012" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community participation</a> is also not at the same level.“Kathmandu lacks the skilled artisans, and therefore is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/resurrecting-rani-pokhari-right/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">dependent upon Bhaktapur</a>,” admits Amit Bajracharya. “There is also less public participation or interest, as many locals in and around the old town have moved away.”Ranjitkar says this has meant that the people around the heritage sites in Kathmandu are not original residents but people who rent rooms or shops. “As fewer and fewer locals remain, there is also less and less ownership and engagement,” he adds.This has also meant that much of the rebuilding in Kathmandu is being done through the DoA’s bidding process, adding to the inaccuracy in restoration.For instance, the medieval Chilancho Chaitya in Kirtipur which was damaged in 2015 was quickly renovated by the DoA. But just a year later, a crack appeared from the finial to the dome.Read Also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Rebuilding Kathmandu after the 1934 quake</a>, Alina BajracharyaEach rebuilding and renovation is particular to the monument, as there is not one such treatment for every building: but a contractor may not be aware of this. Indeed, the lowest bidder with experience in working mostly with concrete, and building modern houses and roads are involved in Kathmandu’s heritage restoration.“On top of lack of expertise and resources, this is also a result of a lack of forethought and patience,” explains Bharat Maharjan of Nepal Heritage Documentation Project. “Brick walls are different from concrete, sometimes it may take days between one layer and another, work may be paused because a decoration needs to be set. Each step is sensitive and significant. But when people don’t know much about heritage conservation, they don’t consider the quality of work, but only deadlines.”Further, there are also traditional dimensions to consider in a temple, and processes that are no longer practiced in residential buildings, but integral to heritage restoration.“With tender, it becomes overly bureaucratic, with a lot of interference,” says Bajracharya. “And the lowest bidder with no expertise in heritage conservation leads to inferior work and compromises to the structure and design.” However, he adds that workers and artisans involved in Hanuman Dhoka have been trained: “Even though it is the lowest bidder who gets the contract, we have tried to make the restoration as authentic as possible.”Sanjeev Man Shrestha agrees, saying that the DoA has its criteria when selecting the contractor, which takes into account their experience in working with wood, bricks and other traditional materials.But it may not always be possible to use traditional materials and practices. Korn believes that if the Malla architects had known of ways to make buildings even more structurally sound, they would have used them.While traditional practices, designs and methods should be preserved and utilised, Rohit Ranjitkar says that architects should also be pragmatic. In a few cases, modern elements, such as steel beams, have been used in Patan just to make the structures stronger.“We also have to think about our place in an earthquake-prone region and it is not prudent to blindly remake a structurally unsound temple or monument,” Ranjitkar adds. “We should also think about how we may improve a previously collapsed building so that more lives may be saved in time of the next disaster.”<h2>Measuring up to Kathmandu's heritage</h2><h5>Restoration of monuments is made easier because of scale drawings by a German architect done 50 years ago</h5>https://youtu.be/GOBtQaqQg0wWolfgang Korn leads the way up to the top floor of Lalit Heritage Hotel in Patan. Through the glass doors, the terrace opens almost like a stage for a view of Patan Darbar.Under the grey sky, the oblique roofs, red bricks and stone temples look restful, against rows of people on benches. Among the scaffolds, spires and baked tiles, the two-tiered Char Narayan Temple stands out.This is one of many monuments of Kathmandu Valley that Korn surveyed in 1970, producing detailed drawings.Born in Dessau in what was then East Germany, Korn first arrived in Nepal when he was 25 in 1968. Having studied architecture, he had applied for a German Development Service project in West Africa. They asked him if he would like to go to Nepal instead.He was fascinated by his first walk around Kathmandu past gods and goddesses, quaint brick houses along narrow streets, wood carvings and stone monuments.Korn worked for the Physical Planning Section of the government designing the office buildings. There, he met architect <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/taragaon-museum-boudha,1609" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Carl Pruscha</a> who was then mapping out two Ring Roads to give Kathmandu an urban plan for future growth, and started surveying sacred sites.“It is important to know where the heritage sites are when one plans a town,” explains Korn. “Very often, I went alone with the driver, as people in the government did not want to leave their office.”This work brought him closer to the ancient Newa architecture of Kathmandu Valley that used wood and bricks to create a highly structured network of urban buildings and open spaces.“I am not a historian or a researcher but a curious craftsman,” says Korn, recalling how he climbed into the shrines to measure, collect and draw cross-sections.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222df9c7e80680e0c031djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Once in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ancient-panautis-french-connection/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Panauti</a>, he had to convert to Hinduism for 17 minutes to study the damage to the Indresvar Temple.“I was staring up at the carvings when the pujari came over and asked what I was doing,” recounts Korn. “When I explained to him my profession, he asked me my opinion regarding the topmost, third tier of the temple that was leaning to one side.”When Korn said that he would not be able to say much from the ground, the priest brought out a copper plate with flowers, vermilion and rice grain. He then started chanting a prayer, sprinkled water and put a red tika on Korn's forehead, declaring him a temporary Hindu so he could enter the sanctorum to study it.Keeping to the walls, Korn climbed up to the topmost tier, made some quick pencil sketches, and came down covered in dust and pigeon muck. He briefed the priest about the kind of repairs needed, after which he performed the ceremony in reverse, wiping the tika off his forehead, and restored Korn back to Christianity.The experience at Indresvar also confirmed to Korn that the Valley's temples were historically two-tiered, and the third roof was often a later addition.Between 1970 and 1977, Korn prepared scaled drawings of many structures, including the Indra Sattal in Bhaktapur, Kasthamandap, Lakshmi-Narayan Sattal, Chusya Baha in Kathmandu, and Char Narayan Temple in Patan.After an extensive survey of Pujari Math in Bhaktapur in 1971 and 1972, Korn embarked solo on the Temple Catalogue Project to prepare an inventory of all tiered temples of the Valley with a photographic catalogue and typologies.His later work with the Hanuman Dhoka Renovation Project in 1973 and private documentation of temples, monasteries, falcha, private houses, carved windows, led to the publication of the first book on Newa architecture, <a href="https://archive.org/details/TraditionalArchitectureOfTheKathmanduValleyByWolfgangKorn_201712" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Traditional Architecture of the Kathmandu Valley</a>, in 1976.After the 2015 earthquake destroyed many historical monuments in the Valley, Korn’s detailed scale drawings of the Maju Dega, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/resurrecting-kasthamandap-from-the-rubble/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kasthamandap</a>, Char Narayan and Vatsala Temple have been instrumental in their accurate restoration.Despite this, Korn is not happy about the haphazard urbanisation of Kathmandu Valley, especially post-2015. He was surprised by the restoration of the Malla-era Trailokya Mohan Narayan Temple in Kathmandu where the walls have been plastered and painted white in the Rana-era style. The same methods are being used in rebuilding Maju Dega, another Malla-era temple dating back to 1692, of which Korn had also taken detailed measurements 50 years ago.“It looks like the contractor wanted to save money and got away with it,” Korn says, shaking his head.He believes rebuilding heritage sites should never be given to the lowest bidder, especially when they know nothing about struts, carvings and dimensions.“To rebuild heritage, you need architects who understand the specific materials traditionally used, such as dachi appa in Newa buildings,” he says.These rejections of standard building practices are perhaps the reason why the Valley’s towns look the way they do today: residences, offices blocks and view towers rising in a babble of concrete and steel.Fortunately, the dramatic transformation of the Valley has not deterred Korn’s caring and curious spirit. He has been visiting Nepal several weeks a year to work with the Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust (KVPT) on renovations at Patan Darbar Square.He also lectures to Nepali architecture students, inspiring a new generation to care about heritage. “Because,” he adds, “you kill the past by not caring.”

Ashish Dhakal

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A tale of three cities

<figure><img width="3000" height="1998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721da99c7e80680e0bd4fejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>The Taleju Temple of Patan with the Mulchok courtyard in 2019. Photo: NHDP.</figcaption></figure>Seven years ago, on a particularly gloomy Saturday, the ground groaned as an earthquake shook Central Nepal, flattening villages and killing thousands.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Monumental-loss,2215">Many historical monuments</a> of Kathmandu Valley were reduced to rubble in just 50 seconds. Photos of the ruins crossed the world: a broken Dharara, toppled houses leaning on each other over darkened streets, piles of bricks and timber covered in yellow dust. Seven years later, monuments are coming out of their scaffolds, while others still have cracks that run the length of their walls.Kathmandu <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandus-temple-restoration-after-1934-quake/">has rebuilt itself</a> every century after a major earthquake. The decision on how to rebuild is determined by the resources and sensibilites of the ruler at the time. What constitutes '<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18013#.YmN0LtNBxH0">heritage</a>' also changes with time. <img width="412" height="198" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dac9c7e80680e0bd4ffjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figure><img width="2080" height="2080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dad9c7e80680e0bd500jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><figcaption>The temple after the 2015 earthquake which toppled the cupola representing Krishna Mandir. Photo: KVPT.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="3000" height="2002" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721db39c7e80680e0bd502jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“A family tree and heritage are almost synonymous,” says conservationist Alok Siddhi Tuladhar. “Because what we get from our ancestors is our heritage.” Our parents and grandparents pass on heirlooms to us, Tuladhar explains, and this gives ‘heritage’ an immediate tangible tone, evidenced by the temples, monuments,<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/saving-nepals-hiti-heritage/"> hiti spouts</a> that form the cultural legacy of Nepal spanning centuries of artistic and socio-political expression.  “Heritage also goes beyond just the physical monuments,” he adds. “The concept of heritage beyond just an object or artefact is especially true in the case of Nepal, where <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303">traditional and Indigenous practices are still living</a> and breathing.” This is different than, for example, the Colosseum in Rome which has archaeological significance, but in the absence of gladiators, that is now recontextualised. “But here in Kasthamandap, it is a vastly different feeling to interact with Ganesh and Gorakhnath, who are still worshipped,” Tuladhar says. "The very manner of interaction is also part of Nepal’s unique heritage." <figure><img width="2592" height="1924" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721db69c7e80680e0bd503jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="3000" height="2167" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dba9c7e80680e0bd504jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="2589" height="2056" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dbd9c7e80680e0bd505jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="6720" height="4480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dc19c7e80680e0bd506jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Bharat Maharjan of Nepal Heritage Documentation Project agrees: “All human acts, including fashion, cuisine, agriculture and architecture, are heritage, evidence for which can be found in everything around us.”For instance toponyms give us a glimpse into the age-old practices of a certain place and community.“In Kirtipur, there is a place called कांफ्वंद्वं which is now part of the university,” he says, “there used to be a funeral mound and people would go during the time of pandemic to pacify the spirits with wind instruments. Now the practice is obsolete, but the name of the place helps us trace that part of our history and culture.” The Kathmandu Valley is remarkable because this ethnically and religiously diverse bowl-shaped valley of only 665 sq km has at least 130 important monuments, and lies at the crossroads of ancient civilisations of the subcontinent.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303">Preserving the intangible</a>, Chandani KC“Another uniqueness of the Valley is that human civilisation has flourished here continuously since ancient times without interruption, as can be found in the inscriptions, monuments and historical records,” adds Maharjan. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-tug-of-tradition/">Continuity is integral to heritage</a>, as without it there is no sense of inheritance. In fact, the word ‘heritage’ is related to Latin heres, meaning ‘heir’, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-tug-of-tradition/">relies on practices and monuments being kept alive through people</a>.This is closely related to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/culture-revolution/">Guthi in Newa communities</a>, the membership to which is also almost always hereditary.Tuladhar explains that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapur-shows-the-way-by-rebuilding-itself/">core value of building a monument revolves around the Guthi</a>, a unique aspect of the Nepal Mandala’s culture, which oversees the upkeep, jatra, puja associated with the monument through community participation and income from the land allocated to it. “This is an important part of our heritage, because the practice brings together people to form the rich socio-cultural fabric of our society,” Tuladhar adds. “All of which, while intangible practices, help conserve the physical monuments. This way, both tangible and intangible heritage can be kept alive.” <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dc69c7e80680e0bd507jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="2106" height="1404" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dc99c7e80680e0bd508jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>SHAKING THINGS UPWhen the 2015 Gorkha earthquake struck, the Valley had not experienced a natural disaster of such magnitude for 81 years. Many monuments that came down had also been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandus-temple-restoration-after-1934-quake/">destroyed in the 1934</a> earthquake, and had been hastily rebuilt. While some temples and palace complexes were restored to their original Newa style of architecture, others were rebuilt in the Rana-era Mughal flourish. Bharat Maharjan thinks this was because of the strict restrictions on importing wood during the Rana-era. “When Jang Bahadur built the Kalmochan Temple with the Mughul-style dome, it quickly became a popular style,” he adds, “The use of brick and stucco plaster was much cheaper and less time-consuming than that of wood, which also included carving.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs/">Nepal’s traditional seismic resistant designs</a>, Sheilin TeoThe <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/restoring-a-piece-of-nepals-history/">Bhaidega Temple in Patan</a> used to be an impressive three-tiered structure built in 1678 by Bharo Bhagirath Bhaiya before it collapsed in 1934. It was then quickly rebuilt in the Mughal stucco dome style, which itself collapsed in 2015. It is now being restored to its pre-1934 design.   The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapur-shows-the-way-by-rebuilding-itself/">conservation response of communities and activist groups</a> after the 2015 earthquake was in many ways similar to the age-old traditions of the Valley, just like how their ancestors did after every previous disaster.“Our ancestors were building these monuments knowing there would be earthquakes,” says Tuladhar, “Plans were in place to repair, restore and conserve the structure from time to time.”Such outlook <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs/">appears to have been affected by building materials</a> as well, such as the use of stone in the Lichhavi era versus bricks and wood in the Malla era.  <figure><img width="1500" height="1132" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dcc9c7e80680e0bd509jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Conservation architect Sudarshan Raj Tiwari suggests in his 2009 paper <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/305876762_Material_Authenticity_and_Conservation_Traditions_in_Nepal">Material Authenticity in Tradition of Conservation of Nepal</a> that the difference in the terms used – pratisamskar (‘near to handed down from respected tradition’) in the Lichhavi inscriptions and jirnoddhar (‘renovation’) or navakam vara (‘new cover’) in the Malla period – may be because ‘the later conservation involved less of repair and reconsecration of images and more of restoration, repair and reconstruction of buildings and building parts.’He goes on to write: ‘This also substantiates that the material nature of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs/">ensemble of architecture had changed</a> with development of comparatively tall temples in brick and wood and construction and reconstruction methods informed with a greater empirical understanding of the action of deteriorating agents of climate, earthquake and fire.’Countries and communities have different understanding of heritage and its conservation. “The dictionary definition and umbrella practices may not relate to each and every place,” explains Tuladhar. “Nepal has its own rituals, practices, materials and climate, which affects how heritage can be protected and restored.” <figure><img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721dcf9c7e80680e0bd50ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1024" height="683" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721dd29c7e80680e0bd50bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>At the same time, restoring these cultural sites go beyond replacing the broken pieces. Heritage is intrinsic to the polis, history and cultural activity.Tiwari suggests that is what King Anshuvarma must have been thinking 1,500 years ago when he inscribed after the restoration of the wood and brick Devkula Temple in Kathmandu,“having repaired carefully so as to keep it in good condition for longer into future”.Heritage, says Bharat Maharjan, incorporates the different aspects of society – political, economic and cultural – into one common identity. And every age has its own identity. Palaces and monuments that once looked out of place in Kathmandu have now become a part of Nepal's heritage.Ram Bahadur Kunwar of the Department of Archaeology says: “Each building style and cultural practice mirrors a particular time and society.”  <img width="1500" height="1023" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721dd49c7e80680e0bd50cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figure><img width="1500" height="976" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721dd79c7e80680e0bd50djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The stark contrast between the Malla-era buildings and the European neo-classical <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/inside-story-of-nepals-rana-dynasty/">Rana</a> architecture that favoured wide walls and tall windows with Greco-Roman columns tells us that different historical periods developed their own distinct heritage in Kathmandu Valley, often determined by the availability of both materials and craftspeople, and influenced by exchanges with other regions.For example, UNESCO regards the architecture of the Valley as having developed with particular attention to traditional values, cultures and norms to create a harmonious urban landscape through the prohibition of  infrastructure taller than temples in an area. At present, the scenario is quite different. ‘City by-laws have often <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lessons-unlearnt/">neglected height restrictions</a> and related measures to protect the immediate surroundings of palace squares and other important sites, which can impact the quality and integrity of the sites,’ UNESCO Nepal wrote in a response to a Nepali Times query.‘Conservation processes need to be informed by traditional practices, skills and knowledge, for without safeguarding the living heritage and the link to the community, it is difficult for the conservation of such monuments and sites to be meaningful.’ <figure><img width="4208" height="2368" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ddb9c7e80680e0bd50ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Alok Siddhi Tuladhar sees that in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs/">tiered-roof temples and shikhara-style shrines</a> complementing each other in the Valley.“Imagine, in the past, the temple roofs with the mountains behind them, against the blue sky, like twins, side-by-side. It is the urban landscape taken together in harmony with nature.”In contrast to this image are the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tall-order/">highrise steel structures</a> towering over the ancient towns. The skywalk in-progress in Kamaladi, for example, if seen at the right angle, breaks out behind the Ghanta Ghar like a glitzy attraction in a travelling fair.But then that is probably how residents of Kathmandu regarded the alien design and dimension of the Ghanta Ghar when it was built. Will the Kamaladi stucture and the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-shortsighted-view-tower-craze/">many view-towers across the country</a> also one day become a part of our heritage? Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lessons-still-not-learnt/">Lessons still not learnt</a>, Editorial

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The history of heritage

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

A new normal

This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

Things eventually work out

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

My father’s son

In a democracy, governments come and go. But Nepal had become so entangled in the triangular affair between Sher Bahadur Deuba, K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal that it was becoming impossible to tell who was canoodling with whom.&nbsp;
All three had long since abandoned their party ideologies. Staying in power was all that mattered as they turned Nepal’s democracy into a kleptocracy.&nbsp;
For the past at least 20 years, we have warned them to mend their ways. Democracy had to be rescued from the hands of such kakistocrats. Waiting to pounce were monarchists and anarchists of every ilk, outcast Maoists, and supporters of a leader jailed for fraud. Tycoon Durga Prasai said his rally in March was to restore a Hindu monarchy, but he was just a temporary royalist whom even the ex-king spurned.&nbsp;
All this converged into a perfect storm on 8 September. Commandos shot and killed 19 innocent young people outside Parliament, the anger boiled over into targetted arson and vandalism the next day. The government fell, and Sushila Karki was elected interim prime minister through Discord.&nbsp;
With not just their monopoly on power but also their very lives in danger, the triumvirate was at first in total shock. Then came conspiracy theories and an inability to gauge the rage from decades of misrule.
Nepalis had assumed that after September the old parties would see their folly, and step down to hand over the leadership to a new generation. But 10 weeks later, there is no sign of any act of contrition.
In the NC, Sher Bahadur Deuba has sidelined the caretaker he himself appointed, Purna Bahadur Khadka, and is active again as the party prepares for a showdown in its Convention next month. The UML is proceeding with its own General Convention, where Oli is fully assured of a third term as party boss. Dahal sees no alternative to himself in his newly-forged Nepali Communist Party and is eagerly eyeing becoming prime minister for the fourth time.&nbsp;
The three leaders who everyone had hoped would finally retire have reincarnated. It is obscene for obsolete politicians to still hanker for power after all that has happened.&nbsp;
SHOCK AND AWE
The three leaders who have been prime minister a dozen times between themselves want to cling on, but this is not abnormal if we apply <a href="https://www.bbc.com/audio/play/w3cszmjz" target="_blank">Elisabeth Kübler-Ross</a>’ theory of the five stages of grief. The author of <a href="https://www.google.com.np/books/edition/On_Death_and_Dying/GlSq0AEACAAJ?hl=en" target="_blank">On Death and Dying</a> was analysing how people with terminal illness deal with their situation, but her 5-stage theory may be applicable to the way heads of the NC, UML and NCP are reacting to the shock of being overthrown — first with denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance.&nbsp;
On 9 September, distressed by what had befallen them, the three were in total denial. Then began the stage of anger. Oli ranted in public about a conspiracy to install an ‘unconstitutional’ interim government, blaming the Nepal Army, and vowing not to take part in election even while preparing for it.
The NC has decided to participate in elections, although it has to first sort out its internal power struggle. The NCP and the RSP have united with smaller parties and are actively preparing to campaign. GenZ groups are speaking in different voices, with Sudan Gurung and Miraj Dhungana openly trying to unseat an interim government they themselves installed.&nbsp;
The parties are now in the third stage: bargaining. Instead of asking himself in hindsight what he should have done, Oli wants Parliament restored but has also registered his party for elections. The UML won't allow elections unless the government lifts restrictions on Oli’s movement.
Likewise, GenZ groups are putting up conditions for supporting polls: arrest Oli and others. Karki is single-mindedly focussed on elections, even if it has to be put off by two months. The Army would also like polls on time because it does not want a repeat of September when it had to intervene to form the interim government.
If Karki’s 6-month mandate ends without elections, and if by then the GenZ’s trust in the interim government collapses, then UML and NC could plan to press for an all-party election government, restoration of Parliament which would then dissolve itself to appoint a new prime minister that Karki would also be agreeable to.
The current state of affairs makes it difficult to imagine elections being held on 5 March — mainly because polls would be incomplete without the three main parties taking part, and it is unlikely they would participate in polls that they are certain to lose since they have not reformed themselves. Amidst these ifs and buts, the role of the Army will be critical.&nbsp;
The fourth stage of grief is depression, and that is what will happen to the parties when the reality of their unpopularity finally hits them. Only then will they finally accept their fate, realise that it was all their own doing, and perhaps reinvent themselves.
Kübler-Ross said the five stages did not necessarily have to be in that order, or that sometimes there may only be three phases, which may be applicable to the parties. What is for sure is that the three leaders are in no mood to atone for their sins.
Rabin Giri is an editor with <a href="http://nepalnews.com/" target="_blank">nepalnews.com</a>.&nbsp;

bhaktapur-darbar-square

A tale of three cities

The history of heritage

A new normal

Things eventually work out

My father’s son

Stages of denial