https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyxPQmUhSRo&amp;feature=youtu.beThe <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">dazzling beauty of Dolpo</a> is confined mostly to the ink-blue waters of Phoksundo Lake, which overshadows the district’s other destinations.The remoter valleys of Nepal’s most remote region hide the ancient monasteries and culture of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Dolpa-Nepal-preserve-pristine-remoteness,1632" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bon religion</a>, an animist faith that is said to have existed in the Tibetan rim lands for 18,000 years – long before Buddhism got here.Today, Bon Po has been overlaid by Buddhism and later Communism in Tibet, but it still thrives in parts of the plateau that today lie in Nepal, like Dolpo. The 500-year-old Thasung Tholing Bon Monastery, with the Pungmo Gompa, are the jewels in the crown of Bon animism.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a53479c7e80680e052342jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>NATURAL FAITH: The Thasung Tholing Bon Monastery on the slope above Phoksundo Lake is one of the two centres of the faith in Dolpo that pre-dates the advent of Buddhism here. Photos: SONAM CHOEYKI LAMA</figcaption></figure>Thasung Tholing is a cluster of nine private monasteries and one community gompa a 15-minute walk from Tso village. What is distinctive about the adherents of Bon Po here is their <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16604#.XVAGy94za70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">deep reverence for nature</a>, so that conservation of the ecosystem is not some outside concept but deeply ingrained in the belief system.Killing for meat was banned, so many villagers in this arid land used to chase wild animals to the edge of the cliff, where they fell to their deaths.“Appalled by the cruelty, Lama Treton Tsewang Tshultrim founded this monastery many centuries ago so that the killing would stop and the wildlife would be protected,” explained Kenpo Nyima Samduk Lama, the present head monk of Thasung Tso. Thasung means ‘protected cliff’, and tso is ‘lake’.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a534b9c7e80680e052343jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Through the centuries till today, the monastery acts as a religious warden of the holy <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/stairway-to-heaven" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Phoksundo Lake</a> and its surroundings, protecting its wildlife and restoring the ecological balance of the mountains.Elderly villagers near the lake remember when musk deer and other animals came down to the shores to drink water, and roamed the forests surrounding the monastery. With poaching the numbers declined, but as the monastery actively revives traditional conservation customs the animals have started to return.The Bon worship the landscape, mountains, lakes, rocks, rivers and wildlife. In short, nature is sacred, as illustrated in this chant in their dialect: ‘lhe lhu zhi dag’, which means ‘we are guardians of nature’. Generations of Dolpo Pa, therefore, have grown up with an innate understanding of how nature is linked to their daily lives.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a534f9c7e80680e052344jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The other centre is the monastery in Pungmo (in map, right) which spreads a deep reverence for mountains, trees, lakes and rivers.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a53529c7e80680e052345jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="546" height="788">Dolpo, NepalThe Bon monastery is a habitat for musk deer, blue sheep and other small mammals, which are prey for the snow leopard and the Himalayan wolf. Given its relatively recent genesis, Phoksundo does not have fish and conservationists say care must be taken not to introduce any alien aquatic species.“We are now seeing more and more snow leopards on the prowl in the forests around the monastery, and in the cliffs above. In winter, when there are fewer people, they even venture out to the shore to drink water,” said resident monk Geshe Nyima Samduk, showing visitors around the shrine.Although <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-shey-phoksundo-in-nepal,3596" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shey Phoksundo National Park</a> was set up in 1984, it was the long-established Bon tradition that really helped conservation on the ground, says snow leopard researcher Tshiring Lhamu Lama. “Local conservation tradition was very important for preserving the nature and culture of Dolpo, and the two are linked. The national park is only 35 years old, but the gompas have been here for 500 years,” she added.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a53549c7e80680e052346jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Besides Thasung Tholing in Ringmo, the other cradle of Bon civilisation in Dolpo is the less travelled Pungmo Valley. This wild and scenic landscape on the lap of Mt Kanjiroba is two hours off the main Dolpo Trail, and few visitors ever come here. The villagers worship Kanjiroba as the ‘ruler of kings’, just as they revere the cliffs, streams, waterfalls, trees and ravines that make up the topography.The local Bon dialect has words for the divine: Yul Lha (lord of the land), Yul Sa Sol Sa (ritual for nature gods), Sman Mo (female spirits). The faith is so strong that locals believe that transgressing nature will bring down wrath and misfortune: livestock will perish, crops will fail and the salt caravans will be stuck in blizzards. The nature gods could also retaliate with hailstorms, earthquakes and disease.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a53579c7e80680e052347jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">“We are not allowed to eat meat that is slaughtered here. We only eat animals that die of natural causes. We are not supposed to cut trees because they are gods too, and so are the rivers and lakes,” says Yungdrung Lama, whose family lineage carries the Bon tradition.Larke Lama is the elected ward chair in Pungmo village and says the Bon way of life is integral to everything his community does. Locals believe they have to perform the Yul Sa Sol Sa ritual to ensure a good harvest. Lama says, “sometimes the weather is bad for crops, so we pray to the sky gods to restore the natural equilibrium.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a535a9c7e80680e052348jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="833"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a535d9c7e80680e052349jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="597" height="504"><h2>No yarsa = no yaks = no caravans = no salt = no butter</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a535f9c7e80680e05234ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="842"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>For thousands of years, the Dolpo Pa have survived on a bi-annual journey back and forth across the Himalaya. But the winds of change have affected the ancestral occupation of the yak caravans that used to take grain and cotton up from the lower valleys to barter for rock salt and carpets from Tibet.The modern monetised economy, the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/Shey-Phoksundo-national-park-may-soon-become-a-bus-park,1036" target="_blank" rel="noopener">spread of transportation</a> in Tibet and Nepal, education and out-migration have all contributed to erode this traditional practice. And now added to this list of factors is climate change, which has made weather unpredictable in the trans-Himalayan valleys.This year, unseasonal spring blizzards closed the high passes that the caravans use for trading. Tourism was hit, as trekkers were stranded.Dawa Gurung and his family take his yaks and horses into the pasture of Dhanigad, crossing the Baga La pass at 5,000m. “We heard the China border is opening soon and we need to go to Chang (Tibet) but this year I do not think I will go — the trail is still treacherous and there is not much to trade,” Gurung said.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814110/636a53629c7e80680e05234bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The grain-salt barter trade between Nepal and Tibet has now been replaced by just one precious commodity: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10912#.XVAD7d4za71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">yarsa</a>, the caterpillar fungus that grows out of the ground in meadows above 4,500m and is prized in Chinese medicine.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19382#.XVAHNd4za70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Yarsa</a> means ‘summer grass’ or ‘winter worm’ in the local dialect and has raised living standards here. But lately, due to over-picking and climate change, yarsa harvests have slumped. Dolpo traders used to sell yarsa across the border in Tibet and buy rice, sugar, blankets and even solar panels in China.“This year it snowed continuously from February to April, and in Saldang half the yaks died. The melting snow also made the ground soggy, and all the yarsa rotted,” said Tashi Dhondup Lama of Tso village.The weather, crops and health of livestock are so closely tied that the loss of yarsa and yaks has meant no trade with Tibet, which means no salt and no butter. As a result, for most villagers in Dolpo this year there are no ingredients to make the salty Tibetan butter tea.

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Bon voyage

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

The Himalayan mountains are also known as the Third Pole because it is the largest repository of water stored as ice outside the two polar regions. However, it is divided by political boundaries that nature does not recognise – be it the air pollutants that flow or migratory birds that fly over the peaks. The Himalaya is also a geopolitical and climate change hot spot. In these geopolitically and environmentally challenging times, it becomes even more important to create oases of conversations, where candid and future-oriented discussions can take place at a people-to-people level. Platforms dominated by inter-governmental agencies have been able to do little. The Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) aims to be a platform that stands at the crossroads of climate, community, and connectivity, fostering dialogue and promoting citizen-led action. Growing up in the Indian Himalayan town of Kalimpong and spending the nascent stages of my career helping in setting up offices of the award-winning Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP) that fostered community involvement in conservation, I have witnessed transformations both good and bad.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5559" height="3711" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  There are initiatives like Nepal’s forest cover doubling in 30 years, or Bhutan’s drive for high-end sustainable tourism. At the same time, I have seen landscapes destroyed by bulldozers and tall buildings competing for air and sunlight in expanding cities. From crony capitalists patronised by political leaders engaged in plundering natural resources to citizen-led initiatives on cleanliness drives and waste management, the Himalayan region is full of stories from both ends of the spectrum of disappointment and hope. Life is about observing and, in one’s little sphere of influence, taking baby steps towards catalysing positive transformation. This is why, Nepal Economic Forum (NEF) had been hosting the Himalayan Consensus Summit in Nepal from 2014 to 2020 following which the Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) was incubated since 2023. HFF is an initiative to encourage multi-faceted dialogues on the topics of climate, community, and connectivity in the Himalayan region by bringing together leaders, experts, institutions, and practitioners from different countries and sectors.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09" data-rendition-name="original" width="5364" height="3581" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  In this year’s edition, there are a series of sessions on 6 February with 34 speakers including ten international panelists. On day two the Himalayan Haat aims to showcase a variety of local, indigenous, and sustainable products. As in 2024, it is believed that the conversations and interactions at the HFF will lead to more partnerships and collaborations from climate financing to managing disasters to taking Himalayan brands global. YOUNG FELLOWS Beyond this, there are sessions on topics such as geopolitics and the Himalaya, as well as on migration which are especially relevant considering the past few years that have seen many events which impacted the global world order. One of the key features of HFF, guided by our ethos of bringing together experts, experiences, and enthusiasm, is also to ensure stronger youth representation through the HFF Youth Fellowship. This year, following a rigorous screening process, youth fellows were selected out of an overwhelming response. Those chosen will be able to attend the events as well as collaborate in future research and publications. Selected fellows will also be provided with full scholarships to the public policy program at Takshashila Institution, an independent centre for research and education in public policy in Bangalore. In a region where half of the population is under 25 years, it is important to get the future generations also in the room.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="5273" height="3520" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  Nepal presents an ideal location to hold meetings such as this, where no-holds-barred conversations can take place face-to-face. The country has good air connectivity and one of the most liberal visa policies in Asia. And while Davos is a good example to follow for convening global voices, we need not have so many private planes burning fossil fuel, as we can have participants take scheduled commercial flights or have regional participants simply take a road trip. Ultimately, the Himalayan region is also about festivities. No exchange of ideas is complete without immersing in art, culture, culinary experiences, and music. This is why HFF envisages graduating to a Himalayan Jatra, rooted in a region where people smile from the heart, and teach the world to smile with them. Join us at HFF 2026 as we move closer to this vision. See the schedule <a href="file:///Z:/%231297%20February%206/pix/page%209/HFF%202026%20Program%20Schedule%20(1)_compressed.pdf">here</a>. Sujeev Shakya is Chair of Nepal Economic Forum and Convenor of the Himalayan Future Forum.

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

On full-moon nights in October and the Nepali New Year in April, hundreds gather to worship at the sacred pond of Mai Pokhari in Ilam. According to legend, the pond was born thousands of years ago from the union of the holy Mai and Tamur rivers in eastern Nepal. Another story tells of an elderly couple whose death gave rise to a life-giving pond meant to quench human thirst. The nine corners of the pond are each believed to house a goddess capable of granting health, fertility, good harvests, and protection from landslides and storms. In every version, one message is constant: when people polluted the water, the goddess moved away. Fear of losing her protection still shapes how people treat the sacred water body today. Besides ponds, wetlands are areas that are saturated with water, permanently or seasonally, including marshes, swamps, and bogs – representing some of the world’s most biologically diverse ecosystems, with distinctive soil, plants and animals. In 2008, Mai Pokhari earned the status of a Ramsar site – a wetland of global importance – for its ecological significance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mai Pokhari"> <figcaption>Mai Pokhari in Ilam. Photo: JITENDRA RAJ BAJRACHARYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  Its mid-elevation broadleaved forests provide habitat for many epiphytic orchids that grow without soil, attaching themselves to trees, and protected species such as the white-rumped vulture (Gyps bengalensis), leopard cat (Prionailurus bengalensis) and Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra). For the people of the area, this is more than a wetland. It is a living mother, an ancestral guardian, and at the heart of their cultural identity. But long before it was recognised internationally, it was already being protected through belief, respect, and traditional knowledge passed quietly from one generation to the next. This pattern of faith-based stewardship is repeated across the Himalaya. Spirituality has shaped conservation in ways no law ever could. Fishing, hunting, and polluting wetlands and rivers are strictly forbidden, not by force but by faith. When erosion threatened the pond in the 1930s, villagers planted pine trees along its edges. As forest degradation increased, the community organised itself, establishing community forests in 1992 and 2001. In 2004, the area surrounding the pond was formally recognised as a religious forest –- a recognition based on local devotion rather than outside instruction.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Map of wetlands in Hindu Kush"> <figcaption>Map showing four wetlands in the Hindu Kush Himalaya. Source: RAMESH KATHARIYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  In the lowland forests of western Nepal, lies Ghodaghodi, a wetland complex consisting of large and shallow oxbow lake with 13 associated marshes and meadows surrounded by tropical deciduous forest on the lower slopes of the Siwalik range along the southern edge of the Himalaya. These wetlands and forests serve as a critical wildlife corridor between the lowlands and the Siwalik, supporting several globally threatened species of plants and animals, and rare wild rice. To the people who live around it, especially the Indigenous Tharu, Ghodaghodi is alive – a sacred presence shaped by gods, ancestors, and centuries of belief. The name Ghodaghodi, which means horse and mare, carries ancient memories. Elders tell stories of divine beings who once moved through the landscape in animal form, leaving behind a lake infused with spiritual powers. The waters are believed to be the dwelling place of gods and goddesses, particularly Lord Shiva. This belief has shaped how the wetland is viewed: not as property to be owned, but as a holy space to be respected. Each year during the festival of Agan Panchami, thousands of pilgrims gather at Ghodaghodi, walking barefoot along forest paths with offerings of flowers, fruits, milk, and water. Polluting the water or harming its creatures is believed to invite misfortune. These unwritten cultural rules have conserved the wetland for generations, long before it was declared a wetland of global importance. In the central highlands of Bhutan lies the Gangtey-Phobji in a wide glacial valley. The Ramsar site is the prime wintering habitat for the globally vulnerable, black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Black necked crane"> <figcaption>Black-necked crane in Phobji. ALEX TREADWAY / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  An annual festival at the Gangtey monastery welcomes the arrival of the cranes in November. Locals revere the birds as sacred messengers, and they are believed to bring blessings and prosperity. It is these beliefs that have helped preserve Bhutan’s flagship Ramsar site. In West Sikkim, the Khachoedpalri wetland was declared a Ramsar site in 2025. This Himalayan high-altitude wetland ecosystem and its surrounding temperate forests provide critical habitat for many species of flora and fauna, and the wetland serves as an important habitat and stopover site for migratory birds. But more importantly, it has religious significance as a pilgrimage site and is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus as a wish-fulfilling lake. It is these values that have supported its conservation from time immemorial. These wetlands are recognised internationally as Ramsar sites for their ecological and other attributes. However, the very cultural practices that preserved these wetlands, along with new external pressures, now threaten them. Many are now increasingly under threat due to growing human intervention – including misplaced practices such as the ritual release of exotic fish by the faithful. Some religious bodies now advise against these practices. Many others are drying out, silting up, or polluted by upstream activity. As these changes intensify, there is concern that not only biodiversity, but also the cultural practices and spiritual values tied to the wetlands may begin to fade. As we mark this year’s World Wetlands Day on 2 February with the theme ‘Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Cultural Heritage’ it is a reminder that wetlands are not only ecosystems – they are rich cultural spaces. Traditional knowledge and belief systems have quietly conserved these wetlands for centuries, showing that when people revere nature, protection becomes a way of life. It is this profound connection, where culture nurtures ecology that we must safeguard to ensure neither wetlands nor the heritage they hold fade away. Sunita Chaudhary is the Biodiversity Lead at the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).

Where culture meets ecology

The Narayani River is one of the most important biodiverse hotspots among Nepal’s three major river systems. It is inhabited by critically endangered gharial crocodiles, gangetic dolphins, Bengal tigers and the great one horned rhinos.&nbsp; The river drains the watershed of central Nepal and is fed by glaciers from the Annapurnas to the mountains in Tibet. Nepal is among the 30 countries on the route of the Central Asian Flyway, making the river a significant site for the world Wildlife Fund (WWF) Wetlands for Asian Flyways.&nbsp; Migratory birds from the north cross the Himalaya along the tributatries of the Narayani in winter as the river and surrounding areas provide safe resting and feeding habitat for the fowls when the river enters the plains. The post monsoon receding rivers, oxbow lakes, and marshes supply food to the migratory birds and other wildlife.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_695e2f2f42117c2d3de50930eafdf7e62ef80418e518544b27c168dba43cf1a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202160232_695e2f2f42117c2d3de50930eafdf7e62ef80418e518544b27c168dba43cf1a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  In the 1960s, entire villages from Nepal’s mountains were translocated to the Tarai once malaria was eradicated. Vast stretches of forests and grassland were cleared for farming for the settlers in areas like Chitwan. The indigenous Tharu, Bote, Danuwar, Mushahar communities along the Narayani floodplain became a minority.&nbsp; The influx of population continues due to accessibility, infrastructure, facilities and livelihood opportunities in the Tarai. &nbsp;Chitwan’s population has increased by 37% since the 1981 census. Human settlements are now getting ever closer to the river boundaries of the Chitwan National Park. Chitwan has changed dramatically from the time I first visited in 1967 and when I started my career as a naturalist in 1984. The once laid-back and sleepy town was surrounded by large expanses of farms and forests stretching to the horizon, with the Narayani flowing nearby. Farmlands on the Narayani floodplains were inaccessible till 2000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_1a20e67120539d5e0abb8701bde51c9bc2ea6eb9d67915cd42bc32bb63a87084.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202160232_1a20e67120539d5e0abb8701bde51c9bc2ea6eb9d67915cd42bc32bb63a87084" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Common Teal</figcaption> </figure>  People primarily grew single paddy crops annually, and much of the post-harvest paddy field was left fallow. These moist fallow fields with marshes were prime feeding habitat for geese, ducks, cranes, storks, Ibis and many waders. Today, Chitwan is one sprawling metropolis. The construction of dykes, spurs and high embankment to avert floods now prevent the farms from getting replenished with alluvial deposits. The deepening river channels have also deprived uplands of groundwater and farms of moisture . In 1973 Chitwan National Park was established as Nepal's first protected area, and in 1996, the government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_b3a91b25342e178e8f6c8b3bc33ae61c674c9e8c5c3eac8e16ee410227d07c69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202160232_b3a91b25342e178e8f6c8b3bc33ae61c674c9e8c5c3eac8e16ee410227d07c69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1205" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Black stork</figcaption> </figure>  Human persecution of wildlife decreased significantly after buffer zone regulations were enacted, and benefited local people via tourism and revenue from the national parks. Conservation partners worked closely with communities and contributed to an increase in the numbers of many iconic endangered species such as tigers, rhinos, wild elephants as well as migratory birds. Behaviour Change Champions’ bi-annual bird monitoring in the Narayani floodplain recorded 145 bird species in February 2025, and 148 bird species in December. Of the species documented, rare migratory birds included a single Sarus Crane, one Spot-billed Pelican, and about 20 Greater White Fronted Geese. In January 2005, two Bar-Headed Geese were fitted with satellite radio telemetry. Both the birds flew northeast to Dingmo Co lake, about 500km north of Mt Everest. Their return destination was far away in the wetlands of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh states of India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_e7924a8b7dd620d3d97609b0c1cd030dd38a2c39e9b880ee80af919e96863a39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260202160232_e7924a8b7dd620d3d97609b0c1cd030dd38a2c39e9b880ee80af919e96863a39" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Greater white-fronted goose</figcaption> </figure>  According to field ornithologists DB Chaudhary, the number of bar-headed geese increased over 60% from 576 in 2024 and to 946 in 2026. &nbsp;Similarly, the number of Ruddy Shelducks also increased by nearly 60%, from 5,091 in 2024 to 8,523 in 2026.&nbsp; In contrast, common cranes saw a gradual decline in the early 2020s and their numbers have just begun to rise once again. Field ornithologist Hathan Chaudhary observed only 17 sharp common cranes in &nbsp;the Dibyanagar farms 2024, compared to 242 in 2020. In 2026, &nbsp;their number stands at 43 individuals. &nbsp; The fallow farms, the feeding habitats of birds like the Bar-headed Geese, Ruddy Shelducks, Common Cranes are shrinking rapidly from intensive farming and spread of human dwelling and industries. Farmers now grow mustard, buck wheat, lentils and corn during the dry season, and the use of pesticides and fungicides in standing crops is a threat for migratory birds that feed upon the crops. Meanwhile, the increase in the network of power cables pose threats of collision to migratory birds.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_d041195718df61adb57151f7dbc8f05dd720ccbab1f6643c8476a456e4c8082d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260202160232_d041195718df61adb57151f7dbc8f05dd720ccbab1f6643c8476a456e4c8082d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  Other threats to wildlife have yet to be addressed. Growing population along the Narayani floodplain upstream continues to pollute the river with garbge. Fallow farms, which are feeding habitats of geese, ducks, and cranes, are shrinking rapidly from extensive farming, expansion of settlements, and industrialisation. FOWL-FRIENDLY&nbsp; Protecting our migratory birds requires safe feeding areas with vast expanses of open marshes and meadows inside the Chitwan National Park and the buffer zone to mitigate the loss of their feeding habitat. Divisional Forest Offices and Bharatpur Municipality could set aside large open marshes and wetlands as a sanctuary for migratory birds. Similarly, reduced availability of water will be a limiting factor for the conservation of wetland birds in the near future. Harvesting and working on groundwater recharge will ensure food security, habitat for migratory birds and other wildlife, and will help local communities combat the impacts of the climate crisis.&nbsp; Seasonal wetlands are particularly important for birds, with their receding water, they provide succulent grass and roots for dabbling ducks and for grazers and filter feeders such as geese, shelduck, pintails, mallards and gadwalls. Eleocharis, Scirpus and other wetlands plant species that grow tubers serve as food for birds once they are exposed to aerobic conditions.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_b06163d09ed589bf98186768cc75504e743de9ebbe278cad0dcf30a180b1b878.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260202160232_b06163d09ed589bf98186768cc75504e743de9ebbe278cad0dcf30a180b1b878" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  Enhanced shallow wetlands and surrogate feeding habitats with low angles of approach thus enable birds and mammals to feed. Once these wetlands dry, they expose worms, freshwater shrimps, mollusks, fishes, frogs, roots and tubers, making it easier for birds and other wildlife like rhinos, hog deers, fishing cats, otters, and tigers to forage.&nbsp; As it stands, the two-year WWF-led community-led conservation of wetlands and migratory birds in Narayani’ project aims to reduce the threats to the migratory birds by enhancing wetlands, capacitating local youth through Behavior Change Champions, and expanding surrogate feeding wetland habitats.&nbsp; The program is working to sensitise and enable indigenous and local communities towards migratory bird conservation, and hone the skills and knowledge of local bird tour guides, particularly women, in identifying and monitoring the birds habit and their response and adaptation to habitat change. The Behavior Change Champions are trained to rescue injured birds, and interact with local communities to reduce direct human persecution and harming of wildlife. WWF Nepal is supporting this project through the Terai Arc Landscape Conservation Program. The theme of the World Wetlands Day on 2 February 2026 is Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Culture Heritage. We must honour this theme and actively contribute to the conservation of the migratory birds, which are our natural heritage, and in the process preserve their connection with local communities, farmlands, and nature. Rajendra N Suwal is the Head of Partnerships Development at WWF Nepal.

bon

Bon voyage

Mass migration from Muktikot

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

Where culture meets ecology

Nepal's vanishing wetlands