<figure><img width="1200" height="1584" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dae9c7e80680e0af3cfjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Illustration: BHANU ACHARYA/NEPALI TIMES</figcaption></figure>During the 2017 elections, Baburam Bhattarai’s Naya Shakti Party propped up the Nepali Congress (NC) elsewhere across the country while seeking support in Gorkha, where Bhattarai himself would run, and Rasuwa where his party’s Prem Tamang was contesting.
But when it came time to register his candidacy, Tamang withdrew from the MP race and chose to run for state assembly instead, putting his support behind billionaire businessman Mohan Acharya, the bankroller of the NC.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/purchasing-power/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Purchasing power</a>, Ramesh Kumar
Acharya had registered his candidacy after convincing party chair and prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, presumably with money being exchanged, to let him run for office.
The construction <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">contractor who spent a lot more money</a> while campaigning, would go on to win Rasuwa. A year later during an interview, Bhattarai himself accused his party colleague Tamang of selling out his candidacy to Acharya.
Acharya’s opponent was Janardhan Dhakal, another construction businessman who had the UML ticket. The race in Rasuwa was therefore a battle between who could spend more money. Both candidates hosted lavish parties, had extravagant motorcades, and distributed cash to buy vote banks.
What happened in Rasuwa in 2017 is a reflection of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s current electoral system</a> — competent candidates have no chance against powerful tycoons who have bought election tickets from party bosses.
Even as they spend extraordinary money to woo voters, Nepal’s political parties have failed to be transparent about their funding in official reports.
Donations from businesses are the primary source of funding for all political parties, and that is where the rot sets in.
However, the amount of financial support received from well-wishers, supporters and businesses are not broken down in the accounts of any of the parties. In fact, they are not mentioned at all.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Is democracy too expensive for Nepal?</a>, Laxmi Basnet
The fact that all financial assistance is provided in cash and not through the banking system makes it easy for parties to circumvent institutions that oversee election management, even though The Political Parties Act 2017 stipulates that any transactions above Rs25,000 should go through the banking system along with the details of donors.
There is a similar lack of transparency when it comes to details about any fixed assets in the parties’ audit report. In many cases, private donors pick up the tabs for the renovation of party offices just to be above the board, like what the NC’s Umesh Shrestha did to get himself appointed minister by Prime Minister Deuba.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-business-of-politics-undermines-nepals-democracy/" target="_blank" style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s politico-business nexus</a> began during the post-Panchayat era after the multiparty system encouraged collusion and quid pro quo. This co-dependency between business and politics became more embedded in subsequent elections.
“When political parties have to spend money to win elections, they start cultivating businessmen and then it is you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” explains economist Keshav Acharya.
Over the years, watching from the sidelines was not enough, and Nepal’s rich directly entered politics as the country began its transition into a federal republic following the end of the Maoist conflict.
Former Finance Secretary Rameshore Khanal resigned in 2011 after Finance Minister Bharat Mohan Adhikari sought the counsel of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">industrialist Binod Chaudhary</a> during the budget formulation process. He says Nepal’s political parties are at present governed not by institutional systems but the will of individual leaders who mobilise money by helping businessmen launder theirs.
“This practice was introduced by Girija Prasad Koirala in the NC and has been continued by both UML Chairman K P Sharma Oli and Maoist Chairman Pushpa Kamal Dahal,” says Khanal.
Indeed, public sector enterprises like Harisidhi Brick and Bhrikuti Paper Factory were privatised under the first elected government led by Girija Prasad Koirala, and turned into prime real estate.
The Ministry of Finance refunded value-added tax (VAT) to entrepreneurs on consumer goods for almost a decade after 2008, essentially putting VAT paid by Nepali citizens into the pocket of businesses, prompting questions of policy irregularities by the IMF.
Similarly, other NC leaders like former finance minister Ram Sharan Mahat formed the Tax Commission in 2014 which gave tax cuts worth Rs21 billion to big businesses, the case related to which is still pending in the courts.
More recently, Finance Minister Janardan Sharma is alleged to have made policy changes to benefit special interests, like the Shanker Group, through a bill to replace the budget brought by the Oli government.
Of late, businesses have also been actively involved in the infighting within parties that has characterised recent Nepali politics.
The photo of NCP co-chairs K P Oli and Prachanda having lunch with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/red-rice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">red rice at the home of business tycoon Durga Prasai</a> to discuss party unity went viral and prompted widespread ridicule.
The two leaders also held several discussions at the residence of construction contractor Sharada Prasad Adhikari who was untouchable because of his proximity to Dahal, as well as at homes of businessmen like Niraj Govind Shrestha and Ajeya Raj Sumargi. Sumargi often acts as a frontman for Dahal’s business dealings.
Businessmen like Capt Rameswar Thapa and Moti Dugar were actively involved in negotiations related to party unification between UML leaders K P Sharma Oli and Madhav Kumar Nepal, who often met at their private residences.
Similarly, Oli's name has been linked to the Yeti Group, and the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/the-silent-skies/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">death of its founder Ang Tsering Sherpa</a> in a helicopter crash in 2019 was a big blow to the former Prime Minister who had close personal dealings with him. Sherpa served as Oli’s fixer and was rewarded with coveted real estate and other deals for his conglomerate.
Entrepreneurs who transition into politics do so with the intention of influencing the state machinery to get business-related benefits. Moreover, interactions between business and politics are not limited to Nepali figures, as evidenced by the audiotape of Krishna Bahadur Mahara asking a Chinese businessman for Rs500 million on behalf of the Maoists during Constituent Assembly elections in 2013.
To be sure, politicians have always been making licensing and policies easier at the behest of banking, insurance, medical education, telecommunications, as well as in the stock market, allowing a select few to take advantage of the resulting decrease in competition.
Congress leader and former vice-chairman of the National Planning Commission Govinda Raj Pokhrel notes that money has become the lubricant in Nepali politics. In fact, voters themselves seem to seek out leaders who can take care of their financial interests.
“Unless we clean up our democratic system, our democracy is headed to the edge of a cliff,” he says.
<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/Electoral-reform,1083" target="_blank" style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">Former Election Commissioner chief Bhoj Raj Pokhrel</a>, in his recent article 'Political Finance Management: Opportunities for Electoral Reform' has proposed ideas for electoral reform, including the provision of grants to political parties to manage election-related expenses.
This proposal is not a new concept. Past governments have discussed this and former Finance Minister Prakash Chandra Lohani even made a related proposal in the 2004 budget.
UML leader Surendra Pandey argues that if political financing is to be made transparent, the government should provide financial support based on the votes received by each party.
Former Finance Secretary Rameshore Khanal argues that political parties should seek donations from Nepali citizens, which would consequently make them more accountable to the public.
Achyut Wagle, a professor of economics at Kathmandu University, notes that while government funding for parties is a viable option in an ideal democracy, it is questionable whether a country like Nepal can do it honestly.
Says Wagle: “It is more important to have transparency in political financing. Selling political positions for money has become the norm, and we need to ensure a democracy where businessmen cannot buy their way to power.”

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The business of politics

<figure><img width="2481" height="3464" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d399c7e80680e0af39fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Illustration: SWORUP NHASIJU</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s richest who used to bankroll parties from the sidelines in exchange for personal, professional and policy favours, have decided it makes more sense to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">enter politics themselves</a>.
Money, not political competency, has therefore become a deciding factor in who is ultimately elected into leadership. But because politics and ill-gotten wealth feed each other, governance suffers.
Nepal’s political parties, meanwhile, have to fudge <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">poll spending</a> because of expense limitations set by the Election Commission.
The Nepali Congress (NC) listed only Rs48.7 million in election expenses, the UML Rs20.9, while the Maoist Center just Rs8.3 million in 2017. The NC also listed Rs20.9 million in donations, while the UML said it got only Rs40.6 million from businesses.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-business-of-politics-undermines-nepals-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The business of politics underminds Nepal's democracy</a>, Ramesh Kumar
In reality, a study by the Election Observation Committee shows that campaigning expenses were vastly underreported in 2017. It estimates that parties spent Rs51 billion in just local elections, and Rs46 billion was used to garner votes for the federal Parliament. 
“I had never seen so much cash in one place before,” said a member of the NC’s election-targeted finance management committee. “We saw businessmen come and go with suitcases full of money. It was strictly cash. They did not want to leave a paper trail.”
Political parties have also relied on membership fees to raise funds. The UML raked in Rs41.9 million through such levies in the last fiscal year. But that is nowhere near enough to cover campaigning costs. This means falling back on big business for funding.
Rajyalaxmi Golchha has publicly stated that she became a UML MP by paying the party Rs70 million. Businessman Moti Dugar of the UML was Minister of State in K P Oli’s government, while <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/what-is-delaying-nepal-cabinet-expansion/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Umesh Shrestha of the NC</a> is a state minister in the current government.
Nearly all big business houses set aside ‘facilitation fees’ to donate to parties across the political spectrum to ensure protection.
“The business community fears that a party which has not been placated may make things difficult if it comes to power,” says a prominent FNCCI member.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The business of politics in Nepal</a>, Shekhar Kharel
Numerous laws like the Banking and Financial Institutions Act, the Medical Education Bill, or the Foreign Investment and Technology Transfer Act were passed by businessmen MPs in parliamentary committees.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/red-rice/" target="_blank" style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">Tycoons</a> often pay political leaders under the table to get them into the legislature under the proportional representation mechanism.
Businessmen say they have no choice because they are tired of party extortion ahead of every election. Politicians use brokers to raise cash, and they are promised a pound of flesh.
The blurring of the boundaries between business and politics undermines democracy and development, says political science professor Krishna Khanal.
"I don’t blame the business community because it is entirely up to the leaders to decide whether to take their money or not. Trouble is, politicians have no integrity,” Khanal adds.

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Purchasing power

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e8a9c7e80680e04fcbejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1584"/><figcaption>Illustration: BHANU BHATTARAI</figcaption></figure>When Prime Minister KP Oli and NCP co-chair Prachanda had a luncheon meeting at the home of business tycoon Durga Prasai last year, a photo posted on social media (pictured below) went viral spawning memes and widespread ridicule. The word ‘marsi’ for the red rice they were seen eating entered the Nepali lexicon as a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/whats-so-funny/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">synonym for sleaze</a>.This was not the first time politicians have been wined and dined by captains of industry, nor were Oli and Dahal the only leaders to do so. Such politico-business nexus has been standard operating procedure no matter what form of government Nepal has had in its history. The only difference is that these days they do not even try to hide the collusion.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e8d9c7e80680e04fcbfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Private medical colleges are a glaring symbol of this symbiosis. Durga Prasai was accused of attempting to lobby for laws to open his B&amp;C Medical College in Jhapa. In fact, medical colleges have become such a lucrative way to rake in money that political connections are essential for those investing in this medical-industrial complex.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/red-rice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Red rice</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/whats-so-funny/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">What's so funny?</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e8f9c7e80680e04fcc0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="652"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Businesses provide politicians with the funds they require at election time, the intention being that they will extract their pound of flesh when the politician comes to power. "This negative culture of paying politicians and influencing policy is growing in Nepal, and is at the centre of the corruption epidemic," says political scientist Krishna Khanal.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-power-and-pull-of-pathibhara/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">death of Ang Tsering Sherpa</a> of Yeti Airlines in a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/helicopter-carrying-tourism-minister-crashes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">helicopter crash in February</a> was a big blow to Prime Minister K P Oli, who had close personal dealings with him. Sherpa served as a fixer for Oli, and bagged coveted real estate and other deals for his conglomerate in return.Sherpa allowed the UML and now NCP to work out of his Ring Road villa. Last month, Oli inaugurated a monastery (pictured below) in Sherpa’s memory in Lumbini, and appointed relative Dawa Futi Sherpa ambassador to Spain. Sherpa's company Thamserku has leased several hectares adjacent to Narayanhiti Palace, which the Attorney General's  report says cost the government Rs5 billion. The lease renewal gives Thamserku the upper hand.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e919c7e80680e04fcc1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="320"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>NCP leaders now often meet at the house of businessman Capt Rameshwar Thapa, and that was where negotiations for the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/one-body-two-heads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">party’s unification</a> took place last year. Construction contractor Sharada Prasad Adhikari is untouchable because of his proximity to Pushpa Kamal Dahal -- even though most of his projects are abandoned half-complete.Dahal is also known to hobnob with businessman Ajeya Raj Sumargi, who often acts as a frontman for the politician’s business dealings. Sumargi's Nepal Satellite Telecom got a license for cheap and has refused to pay Rs740 million in taxes it owes to Nepal Telecom. There is political pressure on many organisations to legitimise Sumargi money transfers into the country without disclosing their source. But due to political pressure most investigations are stalled.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e939c7e80680e04fcc2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="770"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e959c7e80680e04fcc3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="333" height="316">Nepal Communist Party co-chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal Prachanda with businessman Ajayraj Sumargi during an inauguration of Prasad Homes in Pashupati (left) , Kathmandu and at the factory of Himalaya's Spring Water in Rasuwa district (right). Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/absolute-power-numbs-absolutely/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Absolute power numbs absolutely</a>, Damakanta JayshiThere are many other examples of what critics call ‘crony communism’ which has  flourished especially after the NCP government took power. The impunity and corruption associated with this style of governance has made the neo-rich richer, and the Nepali middle class sink into poverty."When the distance between politicians and businesspersons is blurred, policies are made not in the favour of the general public, but specific interest groups," admits Yubaraj Gyawali, who himself is an NCP leader. "That is where the plunder of the country's resources for personal benefit begins."After Nepal’s sugar barons convinced the government that imported sugar was harming domestic industry, politicians first raised the taxes on imported sugar, then completely banned it at the behest of business. The price of sugar soared immediately from Rs65 to Rs100 per kg. The new budget also protects domestic tea, coffee, dairy producers as well as the footwear and cement industries -- even when domestic cement is 30% more expensive than Indian cement, and double the cost of the same grade of Chinese cement.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/crony-communism/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Crony communism</a>, Editorial<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e979c7e80680e04fcc4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="838">All this is, of course, nothing new. UML Finance Minister Bharat Mohan Adhikari was criticised in the 1990s for serving the interests of businesses. Adhikari’s Finance Secretary Rameshwor Khanal resigned then during a budget formulation process, accusing industrialist Binod Chaudhary of exerting undue pressure on state policy. Chaudhari is now Nepal’s only dollar billionaire, #1349 on the Forbes List of the world’s wealthiest men, and has just wangled a license for CG Telecom.Real estate broker Shobhakanta Dhakal is also in the news for transferring a part of public property in Baluwatar to NCP general secretary Bishnu Poudel. Khanal is influential enough to gain a berth in the UML’s list of proportional representation candidates in the 2017 election. Poudel claims to have bought the land, but critics claim it was transferred to his name for free in return for unspecified favours.Nepal may have gone from monarchy to republic and seen many changes in governments, but that does not seem to affect Deepak Malhotra and his businesses. He accompanied PM Oli on visits to China, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Even while he was being investigated for involvement in the gold smuggling racket, Malhotra was leased airport real estate to build a commercial complex. (see box)."If a country's democracy is well developed, then a politician's career plummets if he or she is seen to have unethical dealings with business," says former Finance Secretary Rameshwor Khanal. “That is not the case in Nepal.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e9a9c7e80680e04fcc5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="251"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Businessmen like Suraj Vaidya of the Vaidya Group, Chamber of Commerce President Rajeshkaji Shrestha, former NRN president Upendra Mahato, and construction magnate Madan Adhikari all have multifarious political connections. Some freely admit that being close to power is the only way to do business in Nepal.Even opposition leaders like the NC’s Sher Bahadur Deuba have close links in the business community, although he is not with them much these days because he is out of power. Deuba was embroiled in controversy for trying to rush a contract for the Kathmandu-Tarai highway to the Indian company IL &amp; FS, and was also accused of pressurising bankers to waive almost Rs2 billion in loans taken by hotelier Piyush Amatya.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4e9c9c7e80680e04fcc6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="345"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal’s tycoons are now not satisfied with just influencing politicians, some are becoming politicians themselves. Rajyalaxmi Golchha became a member of parliament through then UML’s PR quota, and publicly admitted she paid Rs70 million to the party for the honour. Many other businessmen in Parliament today have also paid their way into the legislature.Punarjan Acharya a former political adviser to the NC is aghast. "This growing unhealthy nexus between businesspersons and politicians does not just hurt the economy, it puts democracy itself in danger," he says.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/illiberal-ills/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Illiberal ills</a>, EditorialNepal's only international airport hostage to business interestsSharad OjhaIn December 2018, PM KP Oli declared that Tribhuvan International Airport would be made a "boutique airport." However, a 5-storey building in front of the airport, built not just against 'boutique' aesthetics but also against regulations, makes a mockery of his declaration.The building is constructed by 'Rasuwa KD Joint Venture' company, owned by controversial businessman Deepak Malhotra, alleged gold smuggler Bimal Poddar, and MP from Rasuwa, Mohan Acharya. The company was supposed to construct a parking lot, a modern park, a waiting area, a playpen for children, and other infrastructure. But except for a tall building and a parking lot that is highly inconvenient to arriving passengers, nothing else has been constructed.After much protest from airport officials themselves, an investigation committee was formed under the airport's Deputy Director, Jagannath Niraula. The committee submitted its report in April 2019. The report concluded that the building had been constructed against agreements and should be demolished if needed, and that its impacts on airport security should be investigated.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/try-visiting-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Try visiting Nepal</a>, Sewa BhattaraiBut more than a month later, the recommendations have not been implemented. "We know the building goes against regulations, but what can we do if the person we are supposed to investigate hobnobs with the Prime Minister?" says an engineer who did not want to be a part of the investigation committee. He was referring to Malhotra, who is seen accompanying PM KP Oli on many international visits.Malhotra's company had started enjoying impunity after Lokman Singh Karki became the head of Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of in April 2013. Anyone who dared question his company was called for questioning by the CIAA instead. But even two and a half years after Karki was deposed, Malhotra's influence continues to grow stronger through his associations with even higher political connections. He evades investigation despite being accused of VAT corruption and gold smuggling.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/kathmandu-airport-is-nepal-in-a-microcosm/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu Airport is Nepal in a microcosm</a>, Anil Chitrakar

The business of politics undermines Nepal’s democracy

When Winston Churchill addressed the Canadian Parliament in December 1941, he recalled that generals of Nazi-occupied France had said that England would “have her neck wrung like a chicken”. Churchill went on to quip: “Some chicken.” As the laughter and applause subsided, he added: “Some neck.” (Even longer laughter and applause) We do not know who first started calling the narrow corridor that joins India to its northeastern states a 'Chicken’s Neck', but there also was the hint of a Churcillian connotation. Akhilesh Upadhayay in his new book In the Margins of the Empires: A History of the Chicken’s Neck, uses this strip as an entry point to explore a region adjoining Nepal, Bhutan, China, Sikkim, Darjeeling, India’s northeast and the tectonics that shaped its geo-strategic terrain.&nbsp; Upadhyay’s Chicken Neck is an organic whole, connected through centuries by transboundary traders, travellers, monks, spies, missionaries, mountaineers, and more. And as infrastructure and connectivity improves, smaller countries like Nepal and Bhutan (and earlier Sikkim) are caught up in the region’s rivalries. The tri-junction of the Chicken’s Neck is a potential flashpoint that has obsessed India’s military strategists ever since Partition in 1947 and the formation of East Pakistan, and the Chinese annexation of Tibet. India found itself squeezed between Chumbi Valley in China to the north and Pakistan to the south. So, when Sikkim started acting too independent for its own good 50 years ago, India engineered its annexation and turned it into its 22nd state. The 1962 Sino-Indian war elevated its strategic importance even more. Alarm bells ring in New Delhi each time there is trouble around the Chicken’s Neck: the Naxalite uprising had to be swiftly crushed, the Indian military moved in to liberate Bangladesh, Gorkhaland and ULFA activities were dangerously nearby, Bhutan had to be appeased. Every once in a while things would flare up between India and China, as in the 2017 Doklam standoff.&nbsp; And last year’s regime change in Bangladesh has rattled New Delhi enough to deploy its Rafael fighters and BrahMos cruise missiles in the Chicken’s Neck. It is now the most densely militarised strip of real estate in this part of the world. &nbsp; As a journalist and former editor of Kathmandu Post, Upadhyay also peers at the Chicken’s Neck through Nepal’s perspective. After all, Jhapa (where the author is originally from) sits right there astride India’s strategic lifeline.&nbsp; Geopolitics is at the front and centre of the book that takes readers back to the time Nepal was a closed Himalayan kingdom.&nbsp; Nepal may be a yam between two boulders, but it may just as well be a thicker Chicken’s Neck as far as New Delhi and Beijing are concerned. Nepal’s rulers have always had to walk the tightrope between China and India. Khampa guerrillas, covertly helped by American and Indian intelligence, raided Chinese military convoys from bases in Nepal, and King Mahendra had to do some intricate diplomatic footwork. India is often described as Nepal’s closest friend, but our relations with China go back as long in terms of the Lhasa trade, Bhrikuti and Arniko, religious exchanges and people-to-people relations. While Nepali researchers are wary of touching on Chinese, Indian or American sensitivities, Upadhyay’s journalistic background means he has no qualms about tackling the subject head-on, and objectively. He spent more than a year researching the book, sniffing around Siliguri, Bagdogra, Naxalbari, Darjeeling and the villages on the Jhapa side. Then he travelled to Olangchung Gola to listen to ordinary people of the Himalayan rimlands. Despite the perception about rigid frontiers between nation states, the book hints at how absurd the notion is. The Chicken’s Neck is also a wild elephant migration corridor, disturbed by the India-Bangladesh border fence, new expressway embankments, airport runways, and expanding cities. Similarly, the people on the Nepal-tibet border used to cross over to graze yaks — this expanded the gene pools of not just the yaks but also the nomadic humans who moved with the herds.&nbsp; Despite the hard borders, trade flourishes. Upadhyay marvels that a shop in Phungling in Taplejung has embroidered saris from Siliguri and fluffy jackets from China. he finds that residents in the northeastern and southeastern tips of Nepal have more in common with kin across the border in Tibet or India than with someone from Kathmandu. Nepal was once one of the biggest trade hubs in ancient times, and our products were treated as equals in Indian border cities. People too, could move freely, especially if they were and are from bordering Tarai cities.&nbsp; Nepal’s rich history and culture was shaped by the proximity to neighbours, and despite borders it is still cemented by marriages and trade — especially in the Nepali-speaking lands to the east. Its geographical positioning makes Nepal not landlocked but land-linked, adjacent to the largest emerging economies of the world. Nepal needs to deploy its soft power with effective diplomacy to take advantage of these two empires, and not be choked by their rivalry. The book was going to press when the GenZ protests ignited in September, but Upadhyay nevertheless managed to insert the current political transition into the pages with deft editing. &nbsp;The final section of the book examines at least three possible scenarios that may unfold as South Asia continues to be shaped by great power rivalries and imperial contests that have weakened the unilateral influence of the west.&nbsp; Akhilesh Upadhyay extrapolates from the Chicken’s Neck, zooming out for a wider perspective on the Subcontinent. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121912124_0ae772e7736a65f53a99599b5724ca133a64fdea0e61c7170ea81f9dd95c7af0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121912124_0ae772e7736a65f53a99599b5724ca133a64fdea0e61c7170ea81f9dd95c7af0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="In the Margins of Empires: A History of the Chicken’s Neck NT"> </figure>

Some chicken, some neck

This is the first instalment of our new series Nepal Made, where we profile world-class Nepali products and the people behind them. The Himalaya is the home to Ayurveda, the preventive and curative medicinal practice that relies on the tremendous diversity of plant life. This is where Hanuman is said to have come to find a specific rare herb when Ram was wounded in battle. When he could not find it, he tore off a whole mountain and hauled it down to Lanka. Since then, herbal medicines and care products have been steadily modernised in India and Nepal. Now, one Kathmandu-based company, Herveda, is going global with an all-natural skincare brand that blends traditional knowledge of medicinal plants with modern technology. Originally a Sanskrit word, Ayurveda literally means ‘the science of life’ and promotes physical and mental wellbeing through a holistic knowledge system that is 4,000 years old. Ayurvedic products have gotten more popular as global demand rises for all-natural, chemical-free cosmetic and wellness products, instead of wasteful fast fashion and beauty trends. Herveda was founded by Prativa Pandey, a scientist-entrepreneur and mother of two. She did her PhD in nanotechnology chemistry from Northwestern University in the United States and returned to Nepal in 2015 after the earthquake, staying back to explore the market and launch her brand.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_b699e74ee82333951b99b22648705dc916deb8eef3d425c77c1e2f3b1058a64d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251218141216_b699e74ee82333951b99b22648705dc916deb8eef3d425c77c1e2f3b1058a64d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  “I wanted to do something in Nepal, but didn’t want to be a doctor or engineer,” says Pandey at the elegant Herveda showroom in Jhamsikhel. “Whatever knowledge that I had gathered, I wanted to spread it in my own country.” Nepal is rich in traditional medicinal herbs and Ayurvedic plants, but proper utilisation and mobilisation has always been lagging. Most of the benefits are reaped by large companies and not local farmers. Pandey wanted to change that. To ensure that it gives back to the community, Herveda collaborates with farmers and local traders for fair trade. “I have always been fascinated by the medicinal herbs found in Nepal, and wanted to create high value products with them. It was a way to combine valuable indigenous knowledge with my academic research background,” adds Pandey. “I did not require a huge investment, just a proper marketing strategy.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_350f6eb1511523ea54a8aba468f20a7dffcb5def3fade4dcced30324417f83bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251218141216_350f6eb1511523ea54a8aba468f20a7dffcb5def3fade4dcced30324417f83bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  According to the Trade and Promotion Center under the Ministry of Industry, Nepal’s import of cosmetic products is increasing every year, driven by demand from a younger population. These younger customers are also more conscious about the products they use. For brands like Herveda, it is important that customers engage in wellness and skincare in an ethical and sustainable manner. Apart from being all natural, Herveda’s flagship store in Jhamsikhel has a reuse box where consumers can drop used bottles, which are then recycled. The store also displays products from 35 local businesses. Pandey believes that Nepali brands should cross-promote and complement each other: “Rather than competing, I believe we should support each other. 1+1 can be 11, and not two.” Effectiveness and functionality hold great importance for Herveda. which employs 25 scientists to develop and lab test its products at its research institute. Currently, there are products ranging from Rs400-2,000, which include lip balms, serums, and essential oils. A signature product is the Berry Boost Radiance Mask, which contains Spikenard (Jatamansi), Ashwagandha, Orange Peel, and Rhododendron.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_7ec1104e0dd63db2fbbfe666034b468fe5b7e6876fde8b5446cb9d9fe27566cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251218141216_7ec1104e0dd63db2fbbfe666034b468fe5b7e6876fde8b5446cb9d9fe27566cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  Herveda exports to the United States and plans to expand to China and Europe. The products get a 50-100% markup in the international market. The company recently received a grant from UKAid to expand the market as well as build capacity to scale up. It has partnered with Agriplayer software to help to develop QR codes on its products, which consumers will be able to scan to track the product sources and evaluate pricing. Nepal lags behind in rules and regulations, and the lack of monitoring has allowed low quality cosmetic products to penetrate into the market. Herveda has got an international certification from USFTA, which is important for its foray into the export market. “For the cosmetic industry to scale up, there should be a central testing facility that is well equipped and meets international standards. Additionally, export should be made easy,” adds Pandey. “If there are too many barriers to entry, no one will be willing to invest.”

Looking good by doing good

Samrat Upadhyay’s newest novel <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/10/books/review/darkmotherland-samrat-upadhyay.html" target="_blank">Darkmotherland</a> imagines a Kathmandu in political turmoil after a large earthquake. In the aftermath, Home Minister Giridharilal Bhagirath Kumar stages a ‘koo’, and has convinced people that he is the answer to the crisis.&nbsp; He is now known as ‘PM Papa’, and picks up classic dictatorial ways — propaganda, statue-making, history-revising, and a gang of Shiva-worshipping ‘Fundys’.&nbsp; We are introduced to two complicated protagonists. The first is Kranti, a fetching young woman and ‘Madam Mao’, her Communist professor mother. The chef father loved classic rock and died by gas cylinder suicide. Kranti hates her mother, and the Communist group which congregates at her home to plot against PM Papa, although they seem to take forever to get anything done.&nbsp; Kranti has a complicated relationship with the handsome Bhaskar, the middle son of the Ghimirey family oligarchy that is aligned with the dictator. She loves him, but as Bhaskar gets more and more involved with her mother and the Communist group, finds herself heading out to the ‘Bhurey’ (Bhu-kampa Rey-fugee) tents, to spend time with poet Kabiraj.&nbsp; Kranti is also given to delusions, paranoia, and psychosis, convinced that Bhaskar’s family is spying on her, and that one in the Communist group has supernatural powers of suggestion that led to her father’s suicide. Despite mental issues, she marries Bhaskar and into the Ghimirey clan, and the complex nexus between business and politics.&nbsp; The second is Rozy, initially the genderqueer lover of PM Papa who he discovered in the streets, and is described as a ‘gorgeous homosexual’. She turns heads due to her sexuality and beauty, and gets more and more politically powerful as the story moves along.&nbsp; Upadhyay tells us Nepali writers writing in English often feel a pressure to create an “all-embracing world” (interview), but that is what he seems to be getting at with the monumental plot of his novel. Unlike the realism in his previous novels, this one drifts off into magical realism. His narrative blends the ever-present risk of a big earthquake and the actuality of political tremors. The speed of political upheaval seems a little unrealistic for anyone who lived through the 2015 earthquake, although the GenZ protests showed just how quickly a regime can be reduced to a heap of rubble. The age-old question: oppression can be overcome, but what comes after? The PM Papa character is a Gyanendra-Oli-Deuba-Prachanda-Modi-Trump-Papa Doc composite who is good friends with the not even thinly veiled President Corn Hair.&nbsp; Through the character of Kranti, Upadhyay conveys the dynamic between a parent and a child who is now a full adult, on relationships in Kathmandu as marriage looms, on pervasive corruption which one might denounce but have to take advantage of to get things done.&nbsp; Through Rozy, Upadhyay brings attention to the non-binary identity, one that has existed forever in Nepal, and although is discussed a lot in the West lately but not so much here. Upadhyay explores the origins, the present, and the various advantages and disadvantages of the queer.&nbsp; Storytelling in the early parts of the book oscillates between the real and absurd fantasy amidst the physical and political backdrop that does not have to be Nepal -- it could be Modi's India or Trump's America.&nbsp; The reader sees the world through Kranti’s psychosis, or PM Papa’s displays of power, such as when a ‘Sweej’ wrestler is beaten to death with a mace in a wrestling spectacle.&nbsp; These elements <a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/authors/profiles/article/96329-samrat-upadhyay-wants-you-to-expect-the-unexpected.html" target="_blank">coagulate in the novel</a>, and Upadhyay has all the pages at his disposal to prod and push them against one another to see what happens. The novel is still at its best and most engaging when describing vulnerable scenes, of Kranti and her mister, or of Rozy’s messed-up childhood.&nbsp; Any Nepali reading his weighty novel can recognise the allusions and nudges such as the Tourist Area: Thamel, Open Stage: Khula Manch, Tri-Moon: Tri-Chandra etc. But anyone not from these parts may have a tough time keeping track. Keeping a notebook handy may be useful.&nbsp; Ultimately, the novel does work, it provokes and entertains. For best results, serialise the reading over 30 days, not 3 like this reviewer.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122005124_88d92d9a2c5718436354d9c1ce6a2576931ef3242a37f6b90d84da15fe96dd8d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025122005124_88d92d9a2c5718436354d9c1ce6a2576931ef3242a37f6b90d84da15fe96dd8d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Darkmotherland NT"> </figure>  <h2>More things change, more they remain the same</h2> First US-published Nepali Samrat Upadhyay is the award-winning author of novels and short story collections like Arresting God in Kathmandu, The City Son, Mad Country, and Buddha’s Orphans. Upadhyay is also the Martha C. Kraft Professor of Humanities at Indiana University, where he teaches Creative Writing.&nbsp; Recently in Kathmandu, he talked to the Nepali Times over coffee in Boudha about his writing, his teaching, and his newest novel, DARKMOTHERLAND.&nbsp; Nepali Times: Darkmotherland is 732 pages long. What was it like writing a much longer book? Samrat Upadhyay: Torturous Ha ha ha. Around 2014 I started a story. I knew it was going to be a novel. It was about this woman who is accused of being a Mangalik. Then the big earthquake happened in 2015. I was in the US but my parents were still here, they were living in tents. Then I started thinking, what would happen if a dictator came to power. That’s how PM Papa was born. I think mostly because of his character the novel exploded. I had never written a character like him before. I don’t do any plot outlines when I write. Let’s see where it goes. I like the process of writing to lead to discoveries. If I knew everything then I’d get bored. Not knowing where the storyline might go is very exciting. All these different threads started coming in, the character of Kranti started taking on a big role. Her mother, a Communist-leaning professor, started taking shape. Kranti also had a love-interest from an oligarchical family. The novel just took off and I just continued writing. A novel is as long as it needs to be. The initial draft was 1,700 pages. I was writing pretty fast. I don’t pause to see if the sentences are pretty. I whittled it down, and by the time I sent it to my agent it was 1,100 pages. He was able to sell it to Soho Press. I worked with an editor who suggested some further cuts and expansions. The editing part was even harder than the initial writing, because by that time I was tired of looking at the novel. There was a bit of a delay because of Covid, then we got back on track. What’s your daily process of getting the words on paper? I am a morning writer. I get up in the morning and start writing. You can have all kinds of theories but there is this saying, Shut Up and Write. The writing is where the meat is. You encounter difficulties in writing that you may not encounter when thinking about it. I see this in my students. I knew this was a big project so I knew that if I wanted to get it out I would need to write a lot per day. I got a couple fellowships in the university that gave me a few semesters off teaching. I would write for about 4 or 5 hours. Sometimes I would give myself a 1,000 word deadline, but I’m flexible with it if I don’t get there. You have to be kind and patient. What is your inspiration behind the gender-queer character, Rozy? I’ve always been a strong supporter of LGBT. I would say that at this point half of my students are non-binary or on the gender spectrum. Some of them are going through transitions. In some ways Nepal has become more accepting, but in other ways not. I did a workshop with Blue Diamond Society, and heard pretty harrowing stories. I didn’t intend to create a gender-queer character, but it seemed like the novel was demanding that. Especially in terms of the tyrannical stronghold that PM Papa has over the entire country, it made sense that there would be a counterpart, I wanted to put these things in motion and see how they interact. As I was writing Rozy, her character became very formidable. How much do you draw from Nepali politics? Do you form characters off people you know? Not in a very concrete sense, but I’m always drawing from them. I grew up in the Panchayat System, and lived in Lainchaur. The palace was there. The monarchy was such an institution. But then I was in the US, so I wasn’t here when the pro-democracy movement happened. In some ways it felt like things had changed, but were the same in other ways. I feel the same way now. I do draw upon people. I think my father makes an appearance in my work in various forms, I disguise him, of course. You’ve taught creative writing for a while now, how is literature changing?&nbsp; My students are also writing non-binary characters, because they want to be reflected in the stories. This is something new that we didn’t have. White authors, characters were the default. People of Color on the margins. African American and then Hispanic, South Asian authors were always pushing back on this status quo. When I was growing up in the classroom we were reading a lot of white male authors, but in my own life I was reading Salman Rushdie, African, South African friends and writers. My students have a lot more interest in fantasy, many are writing dystopian. One student is writing a novel where the characters start playing a game, and then they enter the game, and an entire new world opens up. On the one hand there are complaints that students aren’t reading enough, which is true, but my students are producing smarter work. Writing that is a lot more insightful. The calibre of discussion in my graduate-level novel writing classes is mind-boggling to me, and makes me want to keep on teaching. Do Nepali writers who write in English feel a certain pressure, from the market or self-imposed, to make their stories more Nepali? My experience for a long time was that there was a pressure, I felt it true in my case, I was supposed to be the representative of every Nepali. But Nepali writers writing in Nepali are not asked, how are you representing Nepal. At that time there was a lot of pressure to write a novel that is all-embracing, that is supposed to speak on all aspects of the country. Politics felt like an integral part of it, that these novels had to make big political statements. I always felt like this was wrong. I mean, people have to write what they want to write. &nbsp;You write what you want to write, and if it resonates with readers, that’s great. If it doesn’t, that’s fine too. Art isn’t going to speak to everyone. We do a competition every couple of years called Writing Nepal. We make a call for stories, and we decide the best ones. I find it refreshing now that the writing isn’t all about Nepal. The best stories are quite varied. What are Nepalis writing about?&nbsp; Several of the stories are about the role of women in our society, done with a lot of nuance, about the sort of multitasking they have to do. Some of it was deeply historical, some dystopian, the coming of AI. Some of them have an old-timey type of feel, and some of them are very modern, contemporary. The general level of art in movies, TV shows, and novels seems to have regressed compared to say the 90s.&nbsp; I don’t think that’s entirely true. Publishing has been harder, for sure, but there are a lot of novels being published every year. My writing workshop had always been a good vehicle for short stories, but a lot of my students now—even undergraduates—are working on novels. I haven’t formulated my thoughts on AI, it is so new and has hit us so hard. Many of my students are using AI, especially when writing response papers to works of literature or peers, which I find appalling. That’s going to be a struggle. I tell my students, who are you fooling? If you feel that you want to be an artist, or a writer, then what’s the point of using AI? AI-generated stories are also just not that good. They’re almost too perfect, too well put-together, making moves that are easy to detect. There is something about human-written stories that are messy and exciting. But there are also plenty of students who want to do original work and don’t want anything to do with AI.

A dystopian motherland

‘Get out of my house.’ ‘All my sickness is because of you.’ ‘You’re a millstone around my neck.’ Arundhati Roy heard these admonitions from her mother over and over throughout her life.&nbsp; This must be a singular, yet universal experience. There must be very few daughters who make it through life unscathed by their mothers. And vice-versa.&nbsp; How many of our mothers look at us and see in us the potential of all of the lives they could have lived? How many resent us for it, or want us to live those lives in their stead? And how many of us look back at our mothers and imagine what they would have achieved had they not been expected and assigned to play the role of wife, daughter-in-law, mother — had we never existed in their lives? How many mothers project their experiences onto their own daughters and continue the cycle? No daughter seems to escape it — no matter how well-behaved, docile, unruly, or rebellious. Certainly not the child who would go on to become a Booker prize-winning author. Arundhati Roy’s memoir Mother Mary Comes To Me chronicles her complex relationship with her mother Mary, or Mrs Roy, as her educator mother had her two children refer to her. In December, Arundhati Roy was in Kathmandu to sign books and briefly interact with readers at two bookshops in the city. She describes a childhood overshadowed by her mother’s volatility towards her and her brother. Mary herself was raised by an abusive father to escape whom she married the first man who proposed — Arundhati’s father who in her mother’s words turned out to be an alcoholic ‘Nothing Man’.&nbsp; Mary left her husband in Assam and eventually wound up with her two children in her town of Aymanam in Kerala, encountering other family members along the way who did not treat her, or her children with respect. The trauma and cruelty her mother endured could not be contained in her body, and spilled out onto her two children, towards whom she was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive.&nbsp; While she treated her children with disregard, she would build a school in the nearby town of Kottayam from the ground up, educate thousands of children, take up a legal fight that led to the Supreme Court granting Syrian Christian women in India equal inheritance rights, and uplift many orphaned children and women in Kerala.&nbsp; Arundhati lived with both her mother’s brutality and brilliance. And like her daughter, readers must reconcile the indefensible parts of Mary Roy’s personality — the cruelty of calling her nine-year-old daughter a bitch, or shooting the family dog that mated with a stray — with her unyielding drive to educate thousands, fight for equal rights, and challenge the way her world viewed women.&nbsp; Mrs Roy had little kindness for her own children, but plenty for the students, children, and women whose lives she shaped, and made better. And her kindness was not rooted in empathy, but in anger at the hand she had been dealt in life. Eventually, Arundhati decided to temporarily cut all contact with Mrs Roy — not because she did not love her, she writes, but so that she could continue to love her. Her desire to get away from her abusive mother, and her fascination with the ideas inspired by the architect who built her mother’s school, would lead her to the Delhi School of Architecture at age 16. In Delhi, Arundhati became roommates with Hisila Yami before she and her Maoist ideologue husband Baburam Bhattarai went underground to lead Nepal’s decade-long armed struggle. &nbsp; But architecture was not her calling. In Delhi, the heart of India’s statecraft, Arundhati came into young adulthood against a backdrop of the country’s changing socio-politics, which began to take a turn for the hyper-nationalist, Hindu supremacist community that it has now largely become. The winds of those changes have now blown into Nepal. In the city, far from her mother, Arundhati met the man who would become her partner of many years, collaborating with him on several films and screenplays before finding the language (‘I needed to hunt [language] down like prey,’ she writes) she needed to become the writer she is now.&nbsp; She went on to write her Booker prize-winning novel The God of Small Things, but the wealth and status the book brought her did not sit comfortably. So she smashed her newly-built gilded cage, as she describes it, and became more political. Contrary to norm, she published several works of non-fiction, and would only publish her second novel, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, in 2017, 20 years after The God of Small Things. &nbsp;&nbsp; Her fierce opposition to India’s nuclear policies, to a dam that would displace millions of indigenous people and ecologically damage the Narmada Valley, her championing of Kashmiri self-determination, and her time spent with Maoist rebels in the forests of Chhattisgarh as they took up arms to defend their land and resources against corporate interests made her an enemy of the state.&nbsp; Meanwhile, being raised by a single mother had never sat well within her Syrian Christian community. ‘I wasn't Christian enough. I wasn't Hindu enough. I wasn't communist enough. I wasn't enough,’ Roy writes in her memoir. For all her love for India, the nation did not seem to reciprocate. The circumstances might be different, but it might strike a chord with readers in Nepal, many of whom marched on the streets in September hoping for a better tomorrow, but were gunned down by the very institutions meant to protect them. It might resonate with those who are not seen as citizens of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood.&nbsp; Arundhati’s relationship with her mother, who was simultaneously proud and disdainful of her daughter’s accomplishments, continued to be tumultuous until the end of Mary Roy’s life.&nbsp; One of Mrs Roy’s last messages to her daughter before she passed was: ‘There is no one in the world whom I have loved more than you.’ Arundhati muses that her lifelong refusal to stop loving her mother must have finally breached her barriers. One wonders if that final declaration of love was solace enough, apology enough, for all the pain caused.&nbsp; But for Arundhati Roy, her love for her mother and her motherland outweighs the cruelty both have shown her. This, too, must be a singular, yet universal experience.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Mother Mary Comes to Me review"> </figure>