<figure><img width="1400" height="933" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221a29c7e80680e0c02c8jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: GOPEN RAI/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>By 7:30AM on 5 June, hundreds of cycling enthusiasts had gathered at Patan Darbar Square. Pedestrians, activists, politicians, and cyclists were marking World Bicycle Day and call for green, bicycle-friendly infrastructure in Kathmandu.It was the first rally in more than two years because of the pandemic. The new and re-elected mayors of Lalitpur, Kathmandu, and Kirtipur were all present to show their commitment to supporting dedicated cycling lanes for a more environmentally friendly Kathmandu Valley. Participants were promoting cycling as a sustainable mode of transportation, an alternative to private vehicles including motorbikes, emissions from which are among the major contributors to Kathmandu’s dangerous levels of air pollution.Read  also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-road-to-safety,873">The  road to safety</a>, Bhrikuti RaiKathmandu is one of the most polluted cities in the world with PM2.5 concentration <a href="https://www.iqair.com/nepal/central-region/kathmandu">over eight times the WHO recommended guidelines</a>. Long-term exposure to these pollutants means that the life expectancy of residents is reduced by nearly four years.Pushkar Shah, an international cyclist and activist who has pedalled across 150 countries hopes that a cycling culture in Kathmandu can help reduce pollution. “We know Kathmandu is polluted, we are always talking about dust and pollution. But we have to do more, we have to educate ourselves to clean up the city,” he says. Advocates maintain that promoting cycling and creating dedicated bike lanes could significantly reduce vehicle emissions, especially from the nearly 1.5 million two-wheelers in the streets of Kathmandu. “If we promote a bicycle day just once a week, we can reduce 1.5 million litres of fuel every year,” adds Shah. “We can save money as well as clean up the air." <figure><img width="1400" height="788" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221a59c7e80680e0c02c9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Photo: ASIF AMINUR RAHSID</figcaption></figure>Kathmandu Valley is naturally bicycle-friendly with relatively short distances between areas, moderate temperature, and few steep inclines in urban areas. But roads in the capital are unsafe, since bicycles must navigate around cars, buses, and motorbikes that might not respect a cyclist’s right of way.In 2011, renowned conservationist and cycling activist <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18683#.YqBwlxNBz9F">Pralad Yonzon was killed when a vehicle hit him on his bicycle</a>. Seven years later, cyclist Shyam Shrestha <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/national/2018/11/04/forum-pays-tribute-to-cyclist-killed-due-to-civic-negligence">drowned when his bicycle fell into an open drain</a> in Kirtipur. In 2019, Lalitpur <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/lalitpur/2019/11/30/lalitpur-metropolitan-city-inaugurates-first-bike-lane-in-the-valley">introduced its first 4.7km cycle lane</a> between Kupondole and Mangal Bazar. Mayor Chiribabu Maharjan promised to cycle to work and encouraged his staff to do the same. The city also planned to build 110 cycle stands. <figure><img width="1452" height="1094" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221a99c7e80680e0c02cajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Credit: Cycle Culture Movement 2022/Facebook</figcaption></figure>A year later, Mayor Maharjan <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/lalitpur/2020/01/23/nepal-cycle-society-awaits-approval-and-implementation-of-new-cycle-law-in-lalitpur">introduced the Cycle Act 2076</a> in collaboration with the Nepal Cycle Society. He said: “Neither the central nor the federal government has talked about a cycle lane or safety for cyclists to date. By enforcing this law, we want to assure our citizens that cycling is safe in Lalitpur and to encourage everyone to cycle.”The proposed act increased safety for cyclists and those in wheelchairs and suggested fines for drivers and motorists who violated cycle lanes. But in the lack of national cycling legislation, efforts to establish a bicycle law have met obstacles. Lalitpur’s municipal government has in fact clashed with the central government’s Department of Roads over cycle lane management. “The main reason the Act has not come into effect is because the central and provincial governments do not have a Cycle Act,” says Tara Lal Shrestha, a professor at Tribhuvan University and a coordinator for Cycle Culture Movement Nepal. “The central government needs to make a bicycle Act or policy.” <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221ac9c7e80680e0c02cbjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Photo: FLAWSONE PICTURES</figcaption></figure>A primary challenge is space. In areas like Patan’s historic old town, many streets are only wide enough to accommodate a single car, let alone separated lanes for cyclists. But environmental engineer Bhushan Tuladhar explains that effective bike lanes are possible if properly planned.Compared to 3.5m needed for private vehicles, bicycle lanes only take up 1.5m. For some of Kathmandu’s wider roads, there is room for more than one bike lane. “We can prioritise bike lanes and plan for what is most appropriate for every type of street,” adds Tuladhar.  There are now plans for an additional cycle lane to act as a 9km ring road between Balkhu, Bagmati and Balkumari bridges. The future of Kathmandu Valley’s bicycle lanes is not just a question of building infrastructure, however, but attitude. Bias against cycling as a lesser means of transportation can damage efforts to establish the lanes. “Bicycles are usually seen as for the poor, not something to aspire for, so people do not prioritise bike lanes,” adds Tuladhar. But having bicycle lanes alone will not protect cyclists. The traffic, buses and the motorcycles need to follow rules and prioritise pedestrians and cyclists. Existing cycle lanes are only demarcated by green-painted paths and there is no national cycling law motorists must abide by. Adds Shah: “One day, I hope, Kathmandu will be a bicycle-friendly city. One day, I hope our dreams will come true.”Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-city-for-cyclists/">No city for cyclists</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

'Re-cycling' Kathmandu is not so easy

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161152/636d1e7a9c7e80680e0af40fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="550"/>City life and the many benefits it represents, including better healthcare, reliable transport and quality education, are the main pull factors for migration. The social networks of cities continue to be one of the principal drivers of economic productivity across the globe.Yet <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/dirty-kathmandu-air-gets-dirtier/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cities can also harm</a>. Air pollution, traffic congestion, over-crowding and noise are some of the defining features of the lives of many city-dwellers across the world today -- and not everyone is affected equally.We often dismiss these negative ‘externalities’ as the unavoidable consequences of economic development, and of city life. But if we understand them well enough, both the good and bad aspects of city life can be disentangled and addressed.One of the emerging areas of interest in cities is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-green-city-is-a-smart-city/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">how much public space is allocated to motorised traffic</a>. Who benefits? Who is impacted? How do motorised vehicles affect society?Are there better ways to design urban transport systems and traffic flows? Kathmandu Valley, with its exponential growth, must address these questions.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/traffic-jam-again-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">city’s old narrow streets</a> are crammed with cars, motorbikes, and people, as man and machine contest for space. Metre-wide paths have become rat-runs for motorbikes to try to avoid congestion. This allocation of public space to cars and motorbikes raises important questions of what value authorities and inhabitants place on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/making-nepal-accessible-to-all/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">inclusivity and equality</a>.It is vitally important to understand how this plays out from the point of view of individual citizens. Consider, for instance, the perspective of a child playing on the street outside the house, or a senior citizen walking to the shop, or a woman carrying her baby while taking her first child to school.We also know well that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/wide-open-spaces-kathmandu" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">open community spaces</a>, preferably incorporating nature, are vital components of any vibrant, just and social city system. Cities need places where people, regardless of social status, can mix, meet and connect. Yet in many cities, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/open-spaces-and-open-society/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">this is not factored sufficiently</a> into often haphazard urban design.In Kathmandu, while people do value open space and nature, that value has not yet been reflected in urban design. A case in point is the steady <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/let-tundikhel-be-what-tundikhel-was/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">encroachment of Tundikhel</a> and planned re-development of Rani Pokhari and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/our-kamal-pokhari/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kamal Pokhari</a> by the municipality office. It is not just private companies but agencies of the state that are also trying to build up green spaces for commercial purposes.Such plans are detrimental especially to the people with the least resources. Recent research by UNOPS found that the ‘lack of open space negatively affects the poor, who live in very crowded conditions, with no <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16442#.Yb6xN9NBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">recreational areas, parks or open spaces</a> nearby; while the lack of green space, the high amount of dust, and high pollution all impact the small amount of public space that does exist’.Local leaders in some parts of the world are responding to these connected issues with innovative solutions. In Barcelona, the Superblock concept of urban design seeks to recover space for the community, improve biodiversity and move towards sustainable mobility. It carves out ‘islands’ of traffic-free space by routing traffic around multi-block areas.These ‘superblocks’ have better cycling and public transport links, to help replace car journeys. They also seek to create a more democratic, fairer city, with more participatory spaces and one in which children can play safely in all its squares without risk from cars.In Bogota, where development has historically occurred without planning just like in Kathmandu, inclusivity and empowerment of women through public spaces and urban mobility are now key objectives, supported by a clear plan. Municipal leaders are framing roads as manifestations of inequality, occupying a disproportionate amount of public space set against the number of people who use them. Accordingly, the city aims to redistribute road space towards use by public transport and pedestrians.Barcelona and Bogota provide just two examples of how cities are grappling with important sustainability issues today. But even if problems are well understood, how, practically, should cities move forward? Transitions to a more sustainable design are long-term processes. They are typically guided by inspiring visions of desirable, sustainable systems and deep engagement with communities.In both Barcelona and Bogota, the creation of such a vision, informed by community perspectives, was a vital step. To get started, pilot projects by innovative and forward-looking municipalities can be used to act as seeds of transformation. If benefits and outcomes are shared and communicated, pilot projects that produce innovations can be expanded and aligned with future national policy interests.Lalitpur is branding itself as the first <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/re-cycling-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cycle friendly</a> municipality of Nepal and its mayor Chiri Babu Maharjan has designated bicycle lanes in the city. Chitwan is also taking a lead to make its streets people-centric, not cars and motorcycles. These examples can be models for other municipalities.The central government, on the other hand, can develop policies to promote public transport and incentivise <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-electric-transport-future-is-here/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">electric mass transit</a>, which will clean up Kathmandu’s air pollution, utilise Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-precious-electricity-going-waste/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">surplus hydroelectricity</a> and cut its petroleum import bills.Cities are places of complexity, involving multiple actors, interests, interactions and processes. The meaning of sustainability is contested, especially in cities. Transport and public space-related issues such as those highlighted here compete for policy attention alongside other often equally important agenda. So it is crucial to communicate their implication on the economy and public health.In a city like Kathmandu, however, where cyclists, pedestrians and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19658#.Yb63bNNBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">electric trolley buses</a> used to once roam, and where local shopping is the norm, a serious look at how to reduce the impact of vehicles and motorbikes on city dwellers would likely find fertile ground for beneficial change.Mark Perrin is a Senior Fellow at Nepal Economic Forum (NEF) and Technical Lead at Himalayan Circular Economy Forum (HiCEF).

Cars vs people in Kathmandu

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

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

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

bicycle-lane

'Re-cycling' Kathmandu is not so easy

Cars vs people in Kathmandu

The Himalaya is not fragile

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

My father’s son

Sacred seed feeds boom