At 11:56AM on 25 April 2015, the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/rebuilding-new-structures-using-old-traditions,2827">ancient Newa town of Bungamati </a>on the southern fringes of Kathmandu Valley suffered more damage than most-- it was completely razed.&nbsp; Some 700 buildings collapsed and at least seven people were killed. The iconic Bungadyo temple dedicated to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the rain god Machindranath</a> collapsed in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/11-56-25-april-2015-wkc9q2an">7.8 magnitude quake</a>. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ten years later, Bungamati was rebuilt. But the original architecture of two-storey houses with tilted tile roofs have been replaced with modern concrete boxes, their façades still gleaming with fresh paint.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409040432_d7083d8b65119dd1f989c17eaab1f837a067e14d4a55a22fb67d4cbb2ceff138.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250409040432_d7083d8b65119dd1f989c17eaab1f837a067e14d4a55a22fb67d4cbb2ceff138" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> <figcaption>All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The Bungadyo complex at the heart of the town, however, is being restored to its original grandeur as it prepares for this year’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/delayed-machindranath-festival-resumes">Machindranath chariot festival.</a> For many residents here, the horror of that day is still fresh in their minds. They remember narrow escapes, losing loved ones and the numerous <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/after-the-aftershocks-the-survivors,3006">aftershocks</a>. The survivors took refuge in tents and had just started drifting back to their damaged homes when the 7 May aftershock hit. “We got exactly one tent,” says a local Kamala Tuladhar, 40, of the earthquake rescue and relief, recalling the financial strain of rebuilding. “We rebuilt everything by ourselves, that money could have gone to our children’s education.” Some families in Bungamati received financial aid of up to Rs50,000 for reconstruction but most families here say that they never got any help and rebuilt on their own. Jogmaya Maharjan, 52, received only Rs20,000 from the Red Cross despite<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/broken-promises-reconstruction,3627"> government promises of reconstruction grants</a>, and had to sell a plot of land to build a new house. “Everything is new now, which is good for progress, but it doesn’t feel the same,” she says, adding that she misses the cosy warmth of her old mud-mortar house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409060416_3f2810530af9c5f1bbfd2e113485444e0ff1771e6f4cac04c089e2e46de92345.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250409060416_3f2810530af9c5f1bbfd2e113485444e0ff1771e6f4cac04c089e2e46de92345" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Kamala Tuladhar"> <figcaption>Kamala Tuladhar</figcaption> </figure>  Kamala currently runs a small eatery in the town and says almost everyone now has <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-concrete-future,2251">concrete houses</a>, as well as increased awareness about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/be-prepared">earthquake safety</a>. “We have a concrete house now, it is stronger but we lost our ancestral building,” she adds. Ratnaman Maharjan’s five-storey Bungamati Homestay offering a panoramic view of the Valley to the north is a popular lodging destination for tourists looking to stay over the weekend.&nbsp; “Without the earthquake, Bungamati would have remained a sleepy town that few people visited,” he says. “The earthquake was a tragedy, but it forced a much-needed change.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khokana-and-bungamati-strive-to-save-heritage">Khokana and Bungamati strive to save heritage</a>, Prabhas Pokharel Bungamati has always embodied a quintessential Newa ambience of the kind that had steadily disappeared from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/preserving-patan-post-earthquake">Patan</a> or Kathmandu. It is a compact and densely-packed town sitting on higher ground with vegetable and paddy terraces below.&nbsp; This <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1885">unique urban-rural symbiosis</a> was the hallmark of the Kathmandu Valley culturescape. Despite its proximity to Kathmandu, Bungamati was essentially a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/migrants-return-home-to-do-commercial-farming,3929">traditional farming village</a> — but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake">after the earthquake </a>it has transitioned into a modern suburb.&nbsp; The rebuilding of the Machindranath temple has been a rather long and arduous journey, and is only now nearing completion. Unlike in Kathmandu, Patan and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bhaktapur-2-0-d8m66qhb">Bhaktapur</a>, there were no aid agencies to help rebuild the temples here. The local chair of the reconstruction committee also died by suicide, further delaying the process.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025040904048_7adb77af2fad4d4f9b389649c20a945e5d2534fea02dc03c7a4c02a3d3f7791e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025040904048_7adb77af2fad4d4f9b389649c20a945e5d2534fea02dc03c7a4c02a3d3f7791e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> <figcaption>Amir Shakya</figcaption> </figure>  “In the immediate aftermath, it was all about survival, so gods and religion were the last thing on our minds,” recalls Amir Shakya, chair of the rebuilding committee for Rato Machindranath. But as the dust settled after the earthquake, it became clear that unless the community took charge, the temple would never be built. The National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) formed a rebuilding committee, officially putting efforts in motion. Restoring the temple was no easy feat, particularly during <a href="about:blank">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>. Even transporting construction material was a logistical nightmare while prices skyrocketed. The community had to arrange for highly specific materials and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present?%27%22=">intricate craftsmanship</a>, both of which were not readily available in the market.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409040444_925c58caffe447f392818e75de7851c17d47db1461447bc2ccc7c18016c89de8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250409040444_925c58caffe447f392818e75de7851c17d47db1461447bc2ccc7c18016c89de8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409030456_163d1aeabf3918541f9196b91a0c85cf3a97ed0bb7c8015295543234b8c85e53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20250409030456_163d1aeabf3918541f9196b91a0c85cf3a97ed0bb7c8015295543234b8c85e53" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="563" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> </figure>  “Rebuilding had to be meticulous and precise to truly preserve the cultural essence of the old Machindranath temple,” adds Shakya. “We lost more than just structures, we lost the very heartbeat of our heritage. Even now, it feels like we are still struggling to recover, and despite the reconstruction, something is still missing.” Ward chair Sagar Tuladhar says that the situation remained dire until the 2017 local elections, when the elected municipal council finally stepped in. The European Union provided help for mapping and technical support. "Before the earthquake, most families lived in ancestral homes—structures built using raw bricks and mud. In hindsight, we realise this was a major reason why so many of them collapsed,” says Tuladhar.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025040904048_5eb476e0f3a722ae7c114e7d9f7a96abba44a85a8503cfe2dd7a993866280a6b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025040904048_5eb476e0f3a722ae7c114e7d9f7a96abba44a85a8503cfe2dd7a993866280a6b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> <figcaption>Sagar Tuladhar</figcaption> </figure>  But today, while houses are stronger and more reliable, the challenge of balancing structural resilience with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dapcha-s-old-world-charm-awaits?fbclid=IwAR0EtIozNL7a0xiKnQSpHSxsoCACXltEUQj1xd2Fo7dRLUiqPMKt4c029ik_aem_AYAPWpOme51Fm9ZIGgneMuZKanrc3Y1IwEfpKmg7oxGwFoxjp0So1_xDNzkuA1acRYc">the preservation of traditional settlements</a> remains. There is also a danger of substandard concrete buildings which will not be able to withstand<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu"> stronger earthquakes in the future</a>, becoming death traps. In response, regulations have been introduced to prevent haphazard building as well as to safeguard <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage">cultural integrity</a>. &nbsp;The cultural resettlement map design was approved after the earthquake, and requires the maximum height of buildings to be no more than 35m.&nbsp; “Many resist restrictions on the number of floors and construction materials,” admits ward chair Tuladhar. “Despite <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16161">modern housing trends</a>, we have also made every effort to uphold the distinct Newa architectural identity. Residents are not allowed to install shutters, use iron reinforcements, or plaster over traditional façades.” He adds that nearly all the homes and heritage structures have now been rebuilt, with only a few remaining to be completed in the next two years. Concrete structures stand where mud-brick homes once did, yet the soul of Bungamati endures in its traditions and its people as it prepares for next month’s Machindranath festival. &nbsp;

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Bungamati builds back

Earthquakes wreck lives, and destroy towns. And when they are rebuilt, nothing is the same again.Five years after the ancient Newa towns of Khokana and Bungamati were nearly razed to the ground in the 2015 earthquake, amidst new concrete pillars are still piles of bricks of collapsed buildings.Because most of the temples and homes collapsed and reinforced concrete buildings survived, there is a belief in Kathmandu Valley that cement is stronger and will withstand the next quake. Khokana and Bungamati wards tried to protect the urban ambience of the town by issuing guidelines about how even homes rebuilt with concrete beams should have brick facades, tile roofs and reflect traditional design elements.Alas, these guidelines have rarely been followed. The gradual destruction of the traditional silhouettes of Kathmandu Valley began long before the earthquake, but the disaster hastened the process. Pressure of urbanisation, the demand for rental rooms, and a quest for safety have forced families to build box-like concrete high rises.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8daf9c7e80680e06b35fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="252" height="128"/><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8db09c7e80680e06b360jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2592" height="1456"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ironically, the town that protested the alignment of the Kathmandu-Tarai expressway construction because it destroyed the town’s heritage, has not been able to preserve the traditional architecture that gave Bungamati its uniqueness.“The rebuilding guidelines say houses should be made in traditional style with sloped tile roof and should not be more than 10 metres high,” explained Krishna Gopal Maharjan, junior engineer at Bungmati’s ward office. “If a house is made without following the guidelines we do not issue the construction completion certificate. But the rule has been flouted.”There is pressure from local families to rebuild damaged or destroyed homes in any way they see fit, since it is their property. “People have ignored the ward’s guideline because they think it is impractical, they believe a three-story house cannot accommodate the whole family hence they tend to build a four-story or even a five-story house,” explains Jay Krishna Maharjan, 35.The most contentious issue seems to be the height limitation. In both Khokana and Bungamati, a majority of the homes that have been rebuilt has traditional brick facades, but they say limiting homes to two floors is unrealistic.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8db39c7e80680e06b361jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8db69c7e80680e06b362jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2592" height="1728"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“At first they were even unwilling to use bricks in outside walls, but at least they agreed to that,” says Chandra Shobha Dangol, social mobiliser at Khokana’s ward office who admits that the height limit has been difficult to enforce.To be sure, a house with traditional design is costlier to build than a cement house, and this is why many of the families have not even started rebuilding even five years after the earthquake.The house of 77-year-old Asta Maya Maharjan was completely destroyed by the earthquake, and she has been living in her relative’s house for the past five years. She says: “Those who have money build houses, we do not have enough money to build a house, let alone a house in the traditional style.”The government’s Rs300,000 grant does not pay for even a room, and this is why rubble from the earthquake five years ago still lies strewn across both towns. Those who can afford it, have built gleaming 5-6 storey buildings that dwarf nearby shrines. “People who have money are building homes, people without money cannot build them. It is just the way it is,” says Gyan Bahadur Maharjan, 81, in a tone of resignation as he basked in the sun in front of his family’s new house.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dba9c7e80680e06b363jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2664" height="2000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ashakaji Shakya, 64, whose house in Bungmati was damaged in 2015 agrees that the guidelines are too rigid, and although he admits that saving the culture is important, a safe shelter is even more important. Indeed, it seems the older generation of these twin towns have made peace with the fact that the towns of their childhood can never be brought back.Shakya asks: “Say I have a family of five sons, each son would need at least one flat for himself, and on top of that if there is an old mother the house goes up to six floors. How can one accommodate such family in a three-storey house?”Bungamati also lost its most important temple, the shrine of Rato Machindranath from where the god of rain is transported in a chariot every year through the streets of Patan. Once in 12 years the chariot is taken from Bungamati itself, an event that draws devotees from all over the Valley.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dbd9c7e80680e06b364jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5184" height="2912"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This year, the chariot festival has been scaled down to just worshipping at the shrine. Restoration of the temple was given to a construction company with the financial support from the Sri Lankan government. But after delays, the contract was dismissed by the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) which then handed over the project to a local committee.Jit Bahadur Maharjan, 74, of Khokana remembers growing up as a little boy. Things were simpler then, he says, houses had thatch roofs, there was always the smell of mustard from the town famous for its oil presses. He says: “The word ‘culture’ exists, but no one knows what it means anymore. We are trying to save our culture, but if you look around, there is nothing left to save.”Indeed, the transformation of the architectural grammar of a town seems to change everything: its festivals, its traditional trade, craftsmanship, and the lifestyle of the inhabitants.Says Suresh Suras Shrestha at Department of Archaeology: “When the look of the houses along a street changes, a town loses its identity. Khokana no longer remains Khokana,”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dc19c7e80680e06b365jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5328" height="4000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dc59c7e80680e06b366jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6000" height="3368"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h2 style="font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: 0.15px;">Mixing old with new</h2>Jaa Dangol’s ancestral home was destroyed by the 2015 earthquake, he decided to build back better. He wanted not just a home, but a source of income as well.At a time when his neighbours were moving away from traditional occupations and homes after the earthquake, Dangol saw an opportunity in going back to Newa cuisine, craftsmanship and restore his building into a traditional homestay that would give visitors an authentic experience.Indeed, until the coronavirus lockdown destroyed business, Dangol was providing tourists with local food in a traditional ambience in his restaurant called ‘Laachi’, which means a place for local foods and products. “I reused 70% of the traditional materials from the house that brought down by the earthquake,” says Dangol, who says that if others in Khokana were to follow the same model they would not just augment family income, but also protect the town’s heritage.Indeed, despite the destruction and the changes of the past five years, Khokana still retains its old world charm with a pervasive smell of the mustard oil presses, women spinning cotton and weaving carpets in sidewalk shops.

Khokana and Bungamati strive to save heritage

This is the 91st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

The nation’s daughter

At 6 feet and one inch, Hira Bahadur Ghalan was exceptionally tall for a Nepali. In 1936, when people came to his Tamang village near Tistung looking for porters, they recruited him on the spot. This was no ordinary job, Hira Bahadur would lead gangs of 30 or more porters to carry cars bought by Rana rulers from Bhimphedi to Kathmandu.&nbsp; Those were the days when the only motorable roads in Nepal were in Kathmandu, but the capital was not connected to anywhere else by road. So, before cars could carry people, people had to carry cars. More Nepalis had carried cars than ridden in one. The porters were paid Rs5 for the job, and sometimes the Rana owners gave Hira Bahadur a Rs25 baksheesh. One of the cars his community helped carry was a 1939 Daimler Benz gifted by Adolf Hitler to King Tribhuvan to woo Nepal away from the British. The rusted dusty vehicle is now in the Narayanhiti Palace Museum.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur hauled cars for 25 years until his knees gave way, he died at age 90 eight years ago — the last surviving car porters of Nepal from Chitlang Valley.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur Ghalan had three sons and three daughters, one of them is Maila Kaji Lama, who at age 68, is a chauffeur in Kathmandu. His son, Manjil Lama is a pilot with Summit Air, flying to remote Himalayan airstrips. Three generations of one family worked in professions that followed a century of transportation history in Nepal. &nbsp; After the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-long-and-winding-road-to-india">Tribhuvan Rajpath was finished in 1957</a> and the ropeway upgraded, Hira Bahadur was out of a job. He tilled the family farm, watching trucks and buses headed to and from Kathmandu on the hairpins.&nbsp; As a child, Maila Kaji was fascinated by cars and wished one day to be able to drive one. After he failed Grade 8, he came to Kathmandu in 1975 and got a Rs20/month job at a petrol station in Maiti Devi. “I watched King Birendra’s coronation and was impressed by the glamour of Kathmandu, and decided to stay here,” Maila Kaji says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1974" height="1608" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Maila Kaji</figcaption> </figure>  Former minister Ramesh Nath Pandey used to bring his Volkswagen Beetle to the station, and Maila Kaji started taking care of his car. Later, he drove a Russian Jeep for former minister and geographer Harka Gurung. Along the way, he fell in love with the daughter of a Brahmin colleague, and married her. “My father back in Tistung did not approve of our inter-ethnic marriage, and not speak to me for five years,” Maila Kaji recalls. Manjil Lama grew up in Kathmandu, and did well in science in school. He had wanted to go the US to become a pilot like his friends, but was denied a visa.&nbsp; “The visa officer told him I did not earn enough,” says Maila Kaji, “so I sold some property and sent Manjil to flying school in the Philippines.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537" data-rendition-name="original" width="1434" height="1754" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Manjil Lama</figcaption> </figure>  After returning to Nepal, Manjil Lama now flies Let 410s of Summit Air to difficult air strips like Lukla and Simkot, and has logged over 2,000 hours. He has to go to the Czech Republic regularly for simulator training. Says Maila Kaji Lama: “My father worked hard carrying cars to raise us, I started from scratch to become a driver to support my family, and my son is now a pilot with experience in flying in the world’s toughest terrain.” &nbsp; Watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvT3iTi8yw4" target="_blank">video clip from S Dillon Ripley here</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="1582" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> </figure>

Grandfather carried cars, son drives cars, grandson flies planes

Nepalis are insured but not covered

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible. Named after the mythical bird-like creature, GarudX is Nepal’s first precision manufacturer of UAV platforms. They offer a wide range of drone products and services. Last month, GarudX won first place at the US-Nepal Startup Weekend Challenge, a three-day accelerator-style program that gathered 25 of Nepal’s most promising early-stage companies. These include custom drones, cinematography, virtual tours, first-person-view (FPV), drone racing, 3D reconstruction, ground control software, and drone light shows. “I think they liked that we pitched the company as a Drone Enterprise System, as a company providing large-scale, integrated drone services,” says Dipawoli Malla, an AI software engineer with GarudX. The company sees a lot of potential in AI-based aerial computer vision, which is already used for infrastructure planning and land surveys, and could be vital in tracking wildlife poachers and assisting search and rescue during disasters. “Our vision for the company has always been to be the one stop solution for every drone problem,” says GarudX CEO Avash Thapa, who also oversees video production. Drones have gained high profile in the past five years due to their widespread adoption in war. While they do work with the Nepali army, GarudX wants to focus on the idea of drone for good. For Nepal, the potential is great for civilian applications especially because of the country’s terrain. Past efforts have been experimental, like a project to deliver tuberculosis treatment in Piuthan in 2019, and for wildlife censuses in Chitwan. Journalists now regularly use drone footage to get a bird’s-eye view for investigative stories on illegal sand-mining or delays in infrastructure projects. Drones were vital during the GenZ protests last September, in which aerial videos provided clues about what actually happened when the crowd surged towards Parliament. They also captured the dramatic aftermath of the destruction of government buildings featured in this paper. “A lot of people do not know or appreciate that drones are also made in Nepal,” notes Malla. “We export a lot of technology as software. It is a big achievement that we can also export hardware.” GarudX was informally started and active on social media since 2018, and officially registered as GarudX Multipurpose in 2024. Founder and Managing Director Adarsha Raj Bhusal had experience working with robotics and FPV drones when he launched the company, as an engineering group interested in custom-built high-performance aerial robotics. “I design our products,” says Bhusal. “We send designs to China where they are manufactured as individual parts. Costs are low when importing from China. Then we assemble and sell them here. It's a system that works well for us.” Among the UAVs GarudX makes include the Skyreaper, which is a long-range drone with advanced obstacle sensing; the GX8 Pyro which is Nepal’s first cinema-grade cinelifter; and the Aether Zoom which is a 4K UAV camera designed for tactical, industrial, or reconnaissance missions.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260417150440_d9f36b32e0b4d65dedded3e705aa7bf8769fd72417fc53669e77ce7a32f8ccd1.webp" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260417150440_d9f36b32e0b4d65dedded3e705aa7bf8769fd72417fc53669e77ce7a32f8ccd1" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="garudx"></figure>  NO CERTIFICATION The main obstacle to GarudX's growth has been the lack of a national certification system. Permits to use drones are convoluted and require applications to various government agencies. “We miss out on so many international projects, for national park footage for example, since there is no way to get our drones registered — even after the army thoroughly checks our craft,” says Adarsha Raj Bhusal. GarudX says it now has the capacity to export its drones overseas at competitive prices, but Nepal does not have a registration system in place. “We can’t legally ship them,” says Avaya Pokharel, Chief Operating Officer who oversees service and repairs. With a new RSP government in place with an ambitious blueprint for digitisation, things could soon change. Relevant bodies are the Home Ministry, the Civil Aviation Authority and the Ministry of Defence because of privacy, aviation safety and national security issues. “There are meetings going on, and there is hope that progress will be made. Of course we want certification to be easy, but it is hard for the government as they have to understand the technology and what is coming in future,” says Bhusal. Legislation could look like a Remote ID system to register every drone. It could also specify pilot verification, placing limitations on what a pilot can do based on their skill level. It could also look at revising drone policies in the capital. Most of Kathmandu Valley is technically a no-fly zone for drones at present because of the concentration of government buildings, army bases and the international airport flight path. To comply with current regulations, GarudX has focused on lightweight FPV drones: small, nimble craft that can be maneuvered at high speed in tight spaces, operated by a pilot wearing immersive goggles. This results in exciting fast-paced footage, particularly useful for clients like Redbull or vehicle companies. “It feels like you are flying,” testifies Bhusal, who has flown FPV for commercials and movies, and ranks way ahead of runner ups in drone races. His work can be seen @adars_fpv on Instagram. The company has built a community of FPV drone racers, and is working with the government to certify it as a sports competition. It holds race events at colleges in Kathmandu and also consults for FPV events in in India.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260417150440_43b27b1b6890e47028c5e780c2ed0147a057f625d9d551221ddbd504dc03a356.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260417150440_43b27b1b6890e47028c5e780c2ed0147a057f625d9d551221ddbd504dc03a356" data-rendition-name="original" width="923" height="619" loading="lazy" alt="garudx"></figure>  MULTIPURPOSE Drones can be versatile tools, but they are particularly helpful in Nepal and the Himalaya. Powerful drones have been used for the last two years to transport ropes and ladders up Mt Everest to reduce the dangers on the Khumbu Icefall, and to bring trash down. If scaled with many pilots and drones, this could be a complete solution to the Everest trash problem while massively reducing risk to human lives. GarudX has also tested its products in the mountains. A recent blog entry on their website is titled, ‘Flying at 6,120m: What We Learned Testing Drones on Lobuche Peak’. They document the process of using different battery tricks and propellers to see what combination allows for more flight time in the thin, cold air. It is refreshing to see a Nepali company making such progress in a unique industry while also documenting advances.

bungamati

Bungamati builds back

Khokana and Bungamati strive to save heritage

The nation’s daughter

Grandfather carried cars, son drives cars, grandson flies planes

Nepalis are insured but not covered

Nepal drone startup takes off