The Narayani River in Chitwan National Park is at only 180m above sea level, but &nbsp;on a rare clear day last week visitors could see the summit of 7,893m-high Himalchuli right across Nepal, 150km away.&nbsp; Upstream, the Trisuli, Seti and Kali Gandaki &nbsp;join to form the Narayani in a catchment stretching 46,300 sq km from Dhaulagiri to Langtang — spanning one-third of Nepal’s area.&nbsp; Glaciers up in those mountains, and even a part of the Tibetan Plateau, feed the Narayani. To see the snows and river together underscores the need to regard the Himalaya not just as a mountain range, but as a composite watershed. This delicate balance between mountains and plains is now destabilised by climate breakdown. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251225111216_105ddc802eb5742227d62687c003bfdb1f3c55faba2c6352b29c2a83123247e7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251225111216_105ddc802eb5742227d62687c003bfdb1f3c55faba2c6352b29c2a83123247e7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="People, naturally"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141228_b4c2c51021e6a21e6d87c748ba8eb6401827ad69d44953af842859c6839350c1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251224141228_b4c2c51021e6a21e6d87c748ba8eb6401827ad69d44953af842859c6839350c1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Chitwan National Park NT"> </figure>  “The climate crisis is a water issue. It is not just about this river, but the mountains and the glaciers we can see from,” said Adil Najam, President of the World Wildlife Fund International during a visit to Chitwan last week. “Water is going to be a frontline climate issue not only for Nepal but for the world itself. This crisis is not long-term, it is immediate-term.” Water from the Narayani, Rapti and other rivers have been vital in shaping the conservation success story of Chitwan National Park. But Nepal’s oldest nature reserve now suffers from either too much water during monsoon floods, or too little in the dry season as a result of extreme weather caused by climate breakdown. Insufficient recharge of aquifers and over-extraction of groundwater have caused oxbow lakes and wildlife watering holes inside the Park to dry up, and solar-powered pumps have been installed to replenish some of them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141228_97cb5c51d38d4cc038fbaa305eca8e7096d2a58e573ee016fa7e2b9972e67f62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251224141228_97cb5c51d38d4cc038fbaa305eca8e7096d2a58e573ee016fa7e2b9972e67f62" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Chitwan National Park NT"> </figure>  Nepal tripled its tiger population to nearly 400 in the past 14 years, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/close-encounter-of-the-wild-kind-in-nepal?fbclid=IwY2xjawFomglleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHd0IT1aTm1ugPsScRVjFSOQKx4trJC1QolMquJH-VcPA3Dsuc7J8twvEtg_aem_oRrHg17T6T0bQzRqU0AvgA" target="_blank">rhino numbers have rebounded to 752</a> with near-zero poaching for the past decade, and vulture species have been rescued from the brink of extinction — all this largely due to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-the-tri-junction-of-wildlife-conservation-conflict-and-co-existence" target="_blank">efforts of local communities in the buffer zones</a> of parks like Chitwan. “The biodiversity here was protected because conservation has been collaborative,” said <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-tharu-are-tiger-protectors" target="_blank">Birendra Mahato</a>, an elected member of the Ratnanagar ward adjacent to the Park. “This <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/parks-plus-people" target="_blank">involvement of people in the buffer zone</a>, including us from the indigenous communities, has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-tharu-are-tiger-protectors" target="_blank">helped reduce poaching and human-wildlife conflict</a>.” The <a href="http://www.apple.com/" target="_blank">Tharu, Bote and Musahar</a> <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-tharu-are-tiger-protectors" target="_blank">indigenous groups that used to live inside what is now the national park</a> followed traditional practices that took into account the behaviour of tigers, rhinos and wild elephants. There were few fatal wildlife attacks.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251226141228_d7c2df18d98d99c32d63ccce53edbe48a36a6a65612e3042f7e93b646f9d86ee.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251226141228_d7c2df18d98d99c32d63ccce53edbe48a36a6a65612e3042f7e93b646f9d86ee" data-rendition-name="original" width="828" height="693" loading="lazy" alt="CNP map"> </figure>  “We need to revive that traditional knowledge so there is human-wildlife coexistence, not conflict,” Mahato added.&nbsp; And communities living in the buffer zone will only protect wildlife if they see a benefit from saving them. The proven way to ensure that coexistence is through well-managed and sustainable tourism that lifts local living standards. The village of Amaltari along the Narayani river has several high-end resorts that employ local people as nature guides, hotel staff and cultural groups performing for tourists. Besides these, the village has 35 women-led homestays where visitors can experience indigenous culture, food and lifestyle.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141228_759ae97bf2c2f0365e1340cb8468cd9fc44ae735d50a1c76ce92d4651cb08da1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251224141228_759ae97bf2c2f0365e1340cb8468cd9fc44ae735d50a1c76ce92d4651cb08da1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Chitwan National Park NT"> </figure>  “Lifting living standards is the most effective way to ensure nature conservation, and this means protecting authentic local heritage to generate income from tourism,” Adil Najam said (Interview, below). Tourists come to the buffer zone in the western edge of Chitwan National Park in Amaltari for safaris to see tigers, rhinos, the vulture conservation site, or to float down the river to watch the gharial, crocodiles and migratory birds. Chitwan National Park saw 300,000 visitors last year, with Nepalis now outnumbering foreign tourists. Gita Mahato runs one of the Amaltari homestays and admits that it was not easy in the beginning to ensure that the quality of service was up to mark, and business suffered during and after the pandemic. “But now we have more experience and confidence, our incomes have gone up, and it has restored pride in our culture and helped protect nature,” she added. “It is like a fairy tale.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251225111216_e136c9d7242193503080782d916209f8223d9c74079180b49c099083c27e4b09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251225111216_e136c9d7242193503080782d916209f8223d9c74079180b49c099083c27e4b09" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="People, naturally"> <figcaption>Vulture feeding at Jatayu which has rescued the raptors from the brink of extinction. </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141228_58a4185f90c35a47806a077a19e7f24d8a9635ac45e8ce457f03a7604ba534b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251224141228_58a4185f90c35a47806a077a19e7f24d8a9635ac45e8ce457f03a7604ba534b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Chitwan National Park NT"> </figure>  Improved living standards have impacted other social aspects: there are schools, children have better nutrition, child marriage has gone down, no one is stealing electricity with hooks anymore, and there are now three beauty parlours in Amaltari.&nbsp; WWF Nepal helped with seed money to set up the local Hamar Cooperative, which ploughs tourism income into a savings scheme that lends to members. There are no defaulters, and the indigenous <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/parks-by-the-people-and-for-the-people" target="_blank">Musahar, Bote and Tharu</a> households now have savings. The municipality has built electric fences to protect the rice and mustard fields from wildlife, and this has eliminated fatalities here from tiger attacks. The community’s Anti-poaching Youth Group and the Park’s military have increased vigilance after the jailbreak of notorious wildlife traffickers in September.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141228_3cff4bdf947bbcb070fe584ab628fb1b79cec047236e56a4486070f8f66ae42d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20251224141228_3cff4bdf947bbcb070fe584ab628fb1b79cec047236e56a4486070f8f66ae42d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Chitwan National Park NT"> </figure>  Chitwan and other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-the-tri-junction-of-wildlife-conservation-conflict-and-co-existence" target="_blank">national parks and buffer zones</a> across Nepal are conducting a massive tiger census this week, installing 1,100 camera traps. The cameras also help to curb poaching, and the total tiger population is expected to exceed 400. Says Ghana Gurung from WWF Nepal: “This is the best example that protecting one charismatic species that is at the top of the food chain helps to protect biodiversity and the entire ecosystems.” <h2>“Water is the frontline climate issue”</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251225111216_8bf2b772f726c8f9eb11cc5b79f5c9c8afa115ee0eb170e69f52bf07a6a1e222.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20251225111216_8bf2b772f726c8f9eb11cc5b79f5c9c8afa115ee0eb170e69f52bf07a6a1e222" data-rendition-name="original" width="1619" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="People, naturally"> <figcaption>Adil Najam with young Buffer Zone forest guides.</figcaption> </figure>  World Wildlife Fund International President Adil Najam was in Chitwan last week, and spoke to Ghana Gurung of WWF Nepal. Ghana Gurung: What are your impressions after visiting Chitwan National Park? Adil Najam: I always knew Nepal was special, and the work of WWF Nepal was special, but I just didn’t realise how special. Seeing the work first hand in Chitwan with species protection, zero-poaching and, most importantly, how to work with communities, particularly with indigenous communities so that we turn this rhetoric of nature vs people into truly a bridge of nature and people. Meeting members of indigenous communities and conservation officials, seeing their sense of pride about what has been achieved was very motivating.&nbsp; So much of what you are doing here in Nepal is relevant to the UN’s SDG goals and WWF’s own 2030 roadmap — especially our core work on species. The challenges are great, but we do not take enough time to appreciate the achievements. We haven’t got to where we want to yet, but we are much further down the road. Tigers have almost tripled, rhinos more than tripled, zero poaching for many years, and all of this with a grassroots approach working with communities. It is not always easy, their concerns are real, but working with them as partners shows that conservation and people do not need to be contradictions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251225111216_988386ce4e292ca298d9546035cb5e51f4b0c4bed3c6069b269360c2c1d3c98e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20251225111216_988386ce4e292ca298d9546035cb5e51f4b0c4bed3c6069b269360c2c1d3c98e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="People, naturally"> </figure>  You mention challenges. What are some of the difficulties ahead? When you are working at a high level, the first challenge is keeping it at that level. Unfortunately global challenges like climate change, biodiversity loss are now so great that we have to multiply our efforts multiple times. Nepal also needs to share what you do here with the rest of the world. Unless we learn from each other, we are not going to solve the planetary crises. I was very happy to see how much the youth are involved in Nepal’s conservation effort, but the challenge will be how to get young people excited about conservation with an aspiration to do more.&nbsp; Yes, we try to work more with the youth. What were some of the other highlights of the trip? Clearly, one of the outstanding highlights was the visit to the homestay collective run by indigenous communities, particularly that they are women-led and they have become entrepreneurial, learning new ways to work with nature, designing new livelihoods, by having guests who enjoy nature. The homestay program in Nepal really has ownership and links nature and people.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141228_d8d27836a3d549713d2ff80687c32c2f7723a1c5bd778833852d0216a447b4f7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20251224141228_d8d27836a3d549713d2ff80687c32c2f7723a1c5bd778833852d0216a447b4f7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Chitwan National Park NT"> </figure>  Nepal is one of the most climate vulnerable countries in the world. What were some of the impacts you noticed?&nbsp; I think every country now is climate vulnerable. For the developing world, it is a a compounded challenge not only because they were not responsible for the problem, but also because we now face its consequences. Because the world has not done very much on mitigation, the challenges have become more difficult. Besides carbon mitigation, we need to focus on adaptation and address the issue of water.&nbsp; Climate in the age of adaptation essentially becomes a water issue, and Chitwan has done well to protect its fresh water habitats. It is not just about these rivers, but the mountains and the glaciers we can see from here that feed them. We have compartmentalised problems: this is climate, this is biodiversity, that is plastic. That is not how nature works. There is no solution to the climate challenge without dealing with nature, and vice versa. So, water is going to be a frontline climate issue not only for Nepal but for the world itself. Leadership on climate will have to rest with countries like Nepal in demonstrating ways to build climate resilience. And resilience resides in people. Given this, what are the strategies we need going forward? We are seeing resource constraints, and that is not news. But beyond that many of the biggest challenges of our time are at threshold or beyond threshold level — whether they are climate related, loss of nature, or water stress, etc. We are at this pivotal point, and I hope we will invent better ways on how to deal with these crises. As you already do in Nepal, we have to look at ecosystems as integrated and connected, where doing good for one thing has a positive impact on another. We know that with species here in Chitwan — if one species does well, a whole bunch of others also benefit.&nbsp; &nbsp;And like you do here, we have to work in partnerships with communities, conservation people, other international organisations, the private sector. This is not the time for finding your corner and hiding in it. This is a planetary problem, and we need a 8 billion people solution.&nbsp; And the writing on the wall in Nepal and elsewhere is that young people are the key to the present and the future. It is really their world. We have to create an environment in which they can thrive to reach their own potential. And we have to give them the sense that although things are difficult, if we do the right things there are solutions. This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_23" data-image-id="20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG"> </figure>

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People, naturally

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal 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. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

Parks by the people and for the people

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d4a9c7e80680e0bd4dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="931"/><figcaption>Nepal has successfully doubled the number of its tiger population. Photo: WWF</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s success in protecting endangered wildlife and their habitats is unquestionably impressive. It leads the world in innovative policies that promote community participation in conservation, such as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community forestry</a>, conservation areas like Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP), and national park buffer zones.Nepal’s forest cover has nearly doubled from 26% in 1992 to 45% in 2016. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">population of rhinos</a> have increased from 100 in the 1960s to 752 in 2021, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">tigers</a> from 121 in 2010 to about 240 last year. These successes have happened despite high human population density, which makes them even more astounding.We can attribute much of Nepal’s success to a ‘sandwich’ of innovative policies from above and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepals-tigers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community action</a> from below, which have made the country a role model for biodiversity conservation around the world.Protected area buffer zone policies enacted in the mid-1990s incorporated communities in globally unprecedented ways. They set aside 30-50% of park income to locals for conservation and livelihood activities and made provisions for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-can-up-forest-cover-to-45-by-2030/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community forestry</a> in the buffer zone.But these policies would not have been effective without people’s support for protected areas and environmental conservation. Even before buffer zone policies took effect, people appreciated benefits from protected areas.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d4d9c7e80680e0bd4dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="701"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d509c7e80680e0bd4e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3506" height="2481"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the mid-1990s, I surveyed communities in the buffer zone of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bardia National Park</a> about their perceptions. More than half of the people said the park benefited them in a multitude of ways. People described the area as beautiful, green, and good to see.They thought it was useful to conserve the forest and wildlife, that the protected area improved the climate and increased water for crops. They appreciated resources they could extract from the park, such as thatch, fuelwood, fruits, and vegetables.Today, people there are even more likely to perceive benefits. In a 2015 study, more than 90% of people felt the Park was important for a healthy environment and for future generations. Two-thirds said it was essential for the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-conservation-nepal-is-not-out-of-the-woods-yet/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conservation of wildlife</a>.But the buffer zone policies are not perfect.In the 1990s, when park-people programs first began in Nepal, the primary goal was to reduce locals’ dependency on parks by improving their livelihoods. To achieve this goal, buffer zone policies set aside half of the community funds for development and income generation activities. Development funds went to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-needs-wildlife-friendly-highways/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">physical infrastructure</a>, such as roads and buildings, and income generation funds went to trainings like vegetable farming and motorcycle repair.But these types of activities are not directly related to conservation. During my research in the 1990s, when buffer zone projects were first piloted, local residents around Bardia National Park questioned how sewing training for women and health posts were connected to conservation of the park.The project-sponsored health post was even perceived as detrimental because it competed with the local government health post. Thirty years later, while visiting <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chitwan-can-accommodate-more-tigers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Chitwan National Park</a>’s buffer zone in January this year, I heard the same sentiments.People questioned why buffer zone money was going to development projects with no direct link to conservation instead of community forests and community-based anti-poaching units.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d539c7e80680e0bd4e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1441" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Around the world, alternative livelihoods are the go-to activity for communities when it comes to biodiversity conservation projects. However, the main benefit of livelihood activities is often improved community relations. There is little evidence that they are successful in terms of increasing people’s income or in decreasing pressure on protected areas. They can even cause more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hiding-their-head-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">natural resource extraction</a>.And, unfortunately, the focus on increasing income has limited our appreciation of the ways that protected areas help communities. Increasingly, studies are showing that, contrary to the common belief that protected areas cause or exacerbate poverty, the benefits from protected areas actually translate into less poverty in Nepal and other places like Bolivia, Costa Rica and Thailand.The underlying problem for communities in protected areas is not poverty, but that they do not have sufficient opportunities to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nature-without-borders/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">participate in conservation and management</a>. Focusing on providing ways for people to participate will improve livelihoods that complement conservation.Now, as Nepal modifies its buffer zone regulations, it has an opportunity to prioritise activities that strengthen the links between communities and conservation. This will create sustainable livelihoods in the broader sense of improved health, water, climate, and nature resources. Following are some recommendations that will strengthen the park-people relationship:<ol><li>Buffer zone funds should not be used for regular government activities but rather support conservation activities that directly help communities protect habitat and wildlife.</li></ol>This means prioritising <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community forests</a>, community-based anti-poaching units, human-wildlife conflict mitigation, and support for forest and natural resource- dependent communities, who are often the poorest of the poor and the most marginalised. This may also help depoliticise buffer zone management committees, a common criticism of the current system.<ol start="2"><li>Support for forest and natural resource-dependent communities should prioritise the sustainability of traditional livelihood activities, especially for the most marginalised communities. Policies should support and enable the conditions to incorporate people’s traditional activities into the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/naturally-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conservation of natural resources</a> and serve as a bridge for these communities to alternative livelihoods.</li></ol>For example, buffer zone funds could be used to create and support river stretch conservation user groups, just as they support community forest groups.<ol start="3"><li>Buffer zone policies should have mechanisms to incorporate local and traditional ecological knowledge into habitat and wildlife management. For example, water and grassland management are two increasingly critical issues in protected areas of Nepal, about which people with traditional and ecological knowledge, such as Tharu, Sonoha, Maje, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chitwans-bote-people-in-a-changing-world/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bote</a>, and Musahar know a great deal. They can provide invaluable insights and perspectives into pressing conservation needs.</li> <li>Buffer zone policies should be consistent with national policy guidelines and community forestry guidelines regarding inclusion and pro-poor activities. For example, community forestry policies require registration of both male and female head of households, 50% women participation on committees, and require that 35% of Community Forest User Group (CFUG) funds be allocated to pro-poor activities.</li></ol>Buffer zone policies should also have similar provisions. In addition, there should be equal representation of households in buffer zone management groups. For example, one household in each user group should have the same voting power as any other household in any other user group.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d569c7e80680e0bd4e2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This means user groups should represent the same number of people across the buffer zone. Currently, while a user group must have at least 15 households, some have up to 100, but each user group, regardless of size, has two delegates who choose user committees members.Our survival as a species depends on policies and communities everywhere in the world <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">preserving our environment and its biological diversity</a>. Nepal leads the world in bringing communities and conservation together. It will be interesting to see where Nepal will lead the world next with its revised buffer zone policies.Teri D Allendorf, PhD, is the executive director of Community Conservation Inc. and an Honorary Fellow in Dept of Forest and Wildlife Ecology at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, USA.

Protecting Nepal’s parks by saving buffer zones

“Let's have another cup of tea,” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ujwal-thapa-s-light-shines-on-n0tfurod">Ujwal Thapa</a> of the alternative Bibeksheel Nepali party told the young activist Pukar Bam ten years ago. The two had 12 cups of tea that day, discussing ways to get Nepal out of its political deadend. Thapa contested the Constituent Assembly election in 2013 as an independent from Kathmandu, and formed Bibeksheel Nepali to galvanise youth impatient for change, fielding candidates in the first federal election in 2017.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa was a political guru who was way ahead of his time, and his protégés were among the RSP’s winning candidates in last week’s election. Pukar Bam was a core member of Bibeksheel Nepali until its dissolution, and won the Kathmandu-4 seat this time. Other former Bibeksheel members who won the election from the RSP in Kathmandu include Ranju Neupane from Kathmandu-1, Sasmit Pokharel from Kathmandu-5, and Biraj Bhakta Shrestha in Kathmandu-8. As votes were counted and the results from Kathmandu began to come in, the candidates paid fulsome tribute to Ujwal Thapa’s mentorship and in inspiring idealistic youth to become a part of an alternative political force.&nbsp; Today, as RSP members of Parliament, they are no longer an alternative, but a part of Nepal’s new mainstream politics. Thapa returned to Nepal after finishing his undergraduate computer science degree in the US at the peak of the Maoist insurgency. His foray into politics began when he traveled to Nepal’s western mountains to train communities in mediation. After the war, he started a computer design company for young entrepreneurs entering the workforce. But he became frustrated with the inability of the second Constituent Assembly to promulgate the Constitution, and the power struggle between political parties played out in the streets that led to frequent shutdowns paralysing the country.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb" data-rendition-name="original" width="823" height="682" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Thapa with Pukar Bam, who was elected to Parliament last week from Kathmandu-4. Photo: PUKAR BAM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  PROTEST TO POLITICS Ujwal Thapa had had enough, and rallied people from across walks of life, leading peaceful, silent demonstrations proclaiming 'नेपाल खुल्ला छ' against prolonged, violent strikes. Citizens fed up with the main political parties organised to defy the shutdowns. Thapa’s activism and vision for a new Nepal drew disenchanted and previously apathetic youth into politics and to join the Bibeksheel Nepali Party in 2013.&nbsp; Thapa was the pioneer of alternative politics in Nepal, and was leading a youth force long before the GenZ became synonymous with Nepal’s September Storm. He mentored and guided social activists who are today influential youth leaders engaged in non-traditional politics. “Ujwal Thapa, with his entrepreneurial spirit, wanted to address people’s pain-points, and believed that activism was the starting point to alternative politics,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-loses-rare-purpose-driven-leader">Ashutosh Tiwari</a>, former member of Bibeksheel Sajha party. “He sought to build confidence, motivate, and build a community for young people, which drew a lot of people into Bibeksheel.” He adds: “ And while people might say that Bibeksheel never got big, that was never its point. Its function was to be an early talent incubator, which is what it did as evident by the result of this election.” Thapa died in 2021 of complications related to Covid-19, and Bibeksheel had two mergers with Rabindra Mishra’s Sajha Party before being permanently dissolved in 2021. But many of its idealistic members joined Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP, formed just four months before the 2022 federal election. Such was the groundswell of support for change that the RSP became the fourth-largest in Parliament. In 2017, Ranju Neupane (then Ranju Darshana) was the youngest mayoral candidate for Kathmandu at age 21, and contested the federal election in 2022. Pukar Bam himself lost the 2022 election in Kathmandu-1 as an independent.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Sashmit Pokharel also ran an unsuccessful campaign as an independent candidate in Kathmandu during the 2022 provincial election. Later, he was a member of the City Planning Commission under Balendra Shah when he was elected mayor of Kathmandu in 2022.&nbsp; Last week, the RSP swept the election with a supermajority of 182 seats in Parliament. Voters placed their trust in the party and its leaders to steer Nepal in a new direction after the youth unrest in September.&nbsp; In many ways, Nepal’s youth have decided, just as Ujwal Thapa once did, that enough is enough with corruption, malgovernance, nepotism and dynastic politics.&nbsp; In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-man-who-shook-our-minds">documentary</a> about his life, Dimag Ghochne Manche, released earlier this year, some RSP nominees who previously worked with and were mentored by Thapa spoke of the impact he had on their lives, career, and activism. Among them is Biraj Bhakta Shrestha, former minister of Youth and Sports who is now a second time RSP parliamentarian. “I tell everybody that if it hadn’t been for Ujwal Dai, I would not have gotten into politics,” he says in the film.&nbsp; It would be unfair to attribute all the success of the hard-fought campaigns entirely to Ujwal Thapa’s protégés and former coworkers.&nbsp; But his ethos and vision for Nepal was what inspired them, and will in the coming years be reflected in national politics through the young idealists he mentored. Says Ashutosh Tiwari: “There are many Bibeksheels outside of RSP in constant and open communication with their old friends who have been elected. They will be keeping the lawmakers in check so that they do no stray too far from the values that they grew up with.”

RSP’s activist DNA

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/spot-ai-generated-election-videos">AI video on TikTok </a>of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-ai-generated-election">AI-generated Mahabharat edits</a> positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

Mamata Kumari Yadav was born just before her father passed his high school exam on his second attempt. Which is why Ram Kewal Ray thinks his daughter brings good luck. Mamata is now a government civil servant, and has three sisters and a younger brother. All are doing well in their professions: one is a doctor at the Army Hospital, another has an MSc in Microbiology, and the other is working in Australia after finishing her MPh. Her brother, an engineering student, is in Kathmandu. “It was all because our parents prioritised education that we did so well in life,” says Mamata. Instead of being woken up to do household chores or work on the family farm, they were encouraged to finish their homework first. While Ram showed his daughters the way and encouraged them to study, it was Sanjeev Karn, a primary school teacher at a school near their home, who motivated them to do well. On International Women's Day, the story of Mamata and her sisters is an inspiring account of dedication, hard work and good guidance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422" data-rendition-name="original" width="873" height="980" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Samata, Punam, Kumudini and Mamata, the four accomplished Yadav sisters from Sarlahi</figcaption> </figure>  Boys always came first in class, but that changed when Mamata and her sisters started excelling in their studies. All four sisters consistently ranked first in their classes and became widely known in the community for their performance. “My friend Sanjay Chaudhary was my biggest competition and used to stand second. He is an engineer now. We are still good friends and laugh about how we were rivals,” recalls Mamata. In a school where no girl had previously passed the high school exam with first division, Mamata became the first to do so and set a record that her sisters later followed. Her uncle in Kathmandu called her father Ram Kewal with the news that Mamata had passed in the first division. Overjoyed, her father went to school and bought Fanta for all her teachers in celebration.&nbsp; Mamata went to Chitwan after receiving a scholarship for a health assistant course. Although her school in Sarlahi was Nepali-medium, she was not able to speak the language properly and felt more comfortable using Maithili. In the new environment, she struggled with language and confidence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata in Sarlahi with her siblings and father when she was young</figcaption> </figure>  She was surprised to learn that Maithili is not spoken all over Nepal. The course was demanding, the textbooks were in English, the student community was diverse, and academic expectations were high. But Mamata began building friendships and confidence. Her sisters later joined her in Chitwan. Mamata returned to Sarlahi and began working with an organisation as a counsellor on sexually transmitted infections. It was her first job, and was proud to be able to support her father. Her second job with a non-profit required field visits across Sarlahi district, so she bought her own second-hand scooter.&nbsp; “Some neighbours did not approve that my parents gave me so much freedom, but they did not pay much heed to such warnings or gossip,” she says. Seeking stability she prepared for the civil service exam for auxiliary health worker position and was stationed in Sindhupalchok. When her father came to drop her off, being used to flat land he was a bit nervous about the steep mountains and 90-minute commute on foot. But he was proud to hear her patients call her ‘doctor’. Later, Mamata transferred back to her home district of Sarlahi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="965" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata Kumari Yadav</figcaption> </figure>  On a work trip to Kathmandu, on her family's recommendation she met a young man who was pursuing a master’s degree in engineering. Their first meeting was at a cafe in the presence of her brother. She found him simple, gentle, and committed to his studies, qualities that resonated with her own personality.&nbsp; “We got married, and my parents did not have to invest in dowry for me and my sisters because they had invested in us,” recalls Mamata, who then became a health post in-charge in Lalitpur. Following administrative restructuring, she found herself reporting to juniors, which limited her sense of growth. She then decided to prepare for the civil service exams in administration. Coming from a health background, the syllabus was unfamiliar and broad. Her first attempt taken without much preparation was unsuccessful, a first failure ever for Mamata.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Seeing off her sister Samata who studied MPH under the AusAID Scholarship</figcaption> </figure>  By this time, she had a son and the exam took a back seat for two years while managing her health post and raising him. When he turned two, she sent her son to Sarlahi, where her mother Phul Kumari took care of him so she could focus on her studies. This time, she passed. She became the first from her family in a government administrative position. After gaining enough experience, she aims to go back to the Madhes to serve in government positions as an honest bureaucrat. Her parents continue as they always have. Phul Kumari takes care of the household while Ram Kewal runs a pharmacy and tends to the farm back in Sarlahi. &nbsp; “We daughters owe a lot to our parents because our peers were never given the kinds of opportunities we had,” says Mamata. “They were married young and now have adult children. There is nothing girls cannot do if given the right guidance and opportunities.”

The Girl Dad of Nepal

Amidst the euphoria in Nepal about the RSP’s landslide victory, the party’s future government, possibly led by Balendra Shah will plunge headlong into an energy and economic crisis sparked by the war in West Asia. Nepal gets all its diesel, petrol, gas and aviation fuel from India and lacks a strategic stockpile to buffer against shortages. The United States has unsanctioned Russian crude oil to India for one month, but India will only export refined petroleum products to Nepal after meeting its own domestic demand. As it is, India has only 10 days of stockpile of cooking gas and it is giving preference to household use. Energy experts say new oil and gas supplies from Russia and elsewhere will take another month to arrive at Indian ports. “This conflict didn’t develop overnight, yet we did nothing to augment our reserves. Clearly, we didn’t manage procurement anticipating supply disruptions,” says economist Pushkar Bajracharya. The conflict has escalated, seriously disrupting global petroleum supplies. Nearly 20% of the world’s oil and gas moves out of the Strait of Hormuz which is now blocked. The Persian Gulf makes up most of the oil and liquified natural gas supplied to Japan (75%), India (50%) and China (38%). Crude oil prices have nearly doubled to $100 a barrel this week.&nbsp; “This crisis is only going to intensify, so in the short term, it means fuel prices will increase as will the cost of goods and services,” adds Bajracharya. “This doesn’t bode well for the new government, especially when people have such high expectations from it.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260315020356_e9f97cc4e8a41bab08fb9c318be887a7eef5ac674326a9a1c878fd80109c3ec7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260315020356_e9f97cc4e8a41bab08fb9c318be887a7eef5ac674326a9a1c878fd80109c3ec7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1315" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="Strait of Hormuz NT"> </figure>  Fuel stoppages from India have happened before, notably during the 2015 Blockade. But Nepal could be better placed this time to cushion the shock because of the proliferation of battery-operated vehicles, and electrification of household cooking to some extent. “The increase in electric vehicles provides some relief, but it is not enough,” says energy economist and former Water Resources Minister Dipak Gyawali. “Most critical services still run on diesel, and they cannot be replaced overnight.”&nbsp; Nepal’s expanding road network means diesel and petrol consumption is also increasing. If the war drags on, there will be a critical shortage of aviation fuel that could also hurt tourism at the start of the trekking and mountaineering season. There is already a nationwide shortage of cooking gas which is used by 62% of Nepali households. &nbsp; The fuel crisis will have a knock-on effect on the economy which the RSP government will have to tackle on an emergency footing as soon as it comes into office. The priority would be to cap fuel prices with subsidies, control hoarding, and in the longer term expedite the switch to electricity for transportation and cooking.&nbsp; MONEY IN The other impact will be on jobs in West Asia and remittances. Nearly half the $11 billion a year Nepalis send home every year comes from West Asian countries. Nepal’s hard currency reserves have hit a record high $21.09 billion, but that cash will be of no use if there is no fuel to buy. A sharp drop in remittances due to the collapse of the economies of the Gulf states if the war is prolonged will have a multiplier impact particularly on Nepalis' household expenses and the country’s economy in general. This in turn will have a knock-on effect on investment, and affect the RSP government’s main agenda which is to create jobs at home. The vicious cycle will then mean that more Nepalis will want to migrate for overseas jobs, but options in the Gulf may not be available. The RSP’s ministers in government will have to come up with innovative ways to re-integrate Nepalis forced to return because they lose their jobs, or for safety reasons. There are nearly 2 million Nepalis across the UAE, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, and another 7,000 mainly women caregivers in Israel. “Other than the impact on remittances and the economy, there could be the additional challenge of rescuing over 2 million Nepalis in West Asia if it comes to that,” says Bajracharya. “We don’t have the resources, and we will have to rely on India’s logistical help.” The RSP’s main vote bank was among global Nepalis, who could not cast &nbsp;ballots themselves but influenced families and friends back home to choose the party. Social media was abuzz with slogans that promoted how choosing the RSP would bring their children back home from the Gulf. “The RSP got a majority, and that’s a good thing but voters came together to oppose UML, NC and the Maoists. But there is no clear ideology or philosophy, so while their slogan to bring Nepalis back from the Gulf sounds nice, what would they come back to?” asks Gyawali. The Nepali diaspora in the Gulf that influenced the electorate so effectively will now be looking at how the government it helped get to power in Kathmandu will help as war engulfs the region.&nbsp; There is an almost unrealistically high expectation of the RSP, and the party may not even get the customary 100-day honeymoon period. The cabinet could be put together easily enough, but the bureaucracy, judiciary, police, and the Upper House are all populated by loyalists of the old parties. Despite bad blood, the RSP will have to work together with all parties in the face of the crisis unleashed by the war. And Nepal’s politicised foreign policy must be galvanised to deal with the crisis.