Bigotry is not innate, it is learned behaviour — that message is front and centre in Akanchha Karki’s short film, Sanai.
The film won best director, best cinematography, best story, best original score, and best picture at Malaysia’s <a href="https://www.facebook.com/NSIFF" target="_blank">Neo South Independent Film Festival</a> as well as awards at the <a href="https://nhriff.hrfilms.org/" target="_blank">Nepal Human Rights International Film Festival</a> and the <a href="https://nafilmsociety.org/" target="_blank">Nepal America International Film Festival</a>.&nbsp;
Sanai is the story of Rupa and Maya, two teenage Dalit and Brahmin girls form an unconditional friendship within a patriarchal, caste-ridden society. The film starts with Rupa’s father heading to Maya’s house to play the sanai, a musical instrument of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalit-lives-must-matter">Dalit community </a>at the wedding of Maya’s uncle.&nbsp;
Dialogue and the behaviour of characters allude to or explicitly exhibit the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/caste-no-bar?fbclid=IwAR2MXB-JEYwQYNMY1mn87VfEikVamdxaZ3nmTe6XC9HvpOhfcnA_QovCnMA">caste divide</a>. Maya longs to play the sanai, but is yelled at by her mother for ‘almost causing a disaster’ when she tries to reach for one of the instruments.
Rupa’s mother mends clothes for Maya’s mother and sends Rupa to deliver it, but Maya’s mother will only touch the clothing after ‘purifying’ it first. &nbsp;
However, the two children, brought together by their shared <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/in-nepal-east-meets-west-musically?mdrv=www.nepalitimes.com">love of music</a>, rebel in their own ways. Rupa throws away the sel roti dropped onto her hand without touching it by Maya’s mother. Maya refuses free candy given to her to persuade her to stay away from Rupa.&nbsp;
At the wedding, Maya defiantly plays the sanai given to her by Rupa during her uncle’s wedding.
After Maya is told by an adult not to hang out with Rupa due to their caste difference, there is radiant joy when the two girls are told by their teacher that Rupa should ask her mother to sew her the same frock as Maya so that they can look alike.
The following scene, where Maya and Rupa exchange their clothes with Rupa wearing Maya’s prettier outfit, is among the most quietly powerful moments in the film.
Queerness is a subtly recurring motif in the sanai, especially notable during a scene where Maya watches her uncle and his bride dance during their wedding ceremony and imagines herself and Rupa, with matching frocks, in their place.&nbsp;
“As kids, all they care about is their friendship and their love, but queerness is also an angle in the film,” says director <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/marriage-drama" target="_blank">Akanchha Karki</a>, of the Kathmandu theatre, <a href="http://kathaghera.com/" target="_blank">Katha Ghera</a>.
The girls’ shared desire to play the sanai binds them together. And while Rupa’s father and his community are expected to breathe music through their sanai in the life and celebrations of upper-caste communities, they are not allowed to be part of those ceremonies.&nbsp;
Karki picked sanai out of all the other instruments played by the Dalit community both because it was convenient for the children to carry and because of its unique sound.&nbsp;
“The sanai produces an achingly beautiful music, which I wanted to bring out for the film,” Karki says.&nbsp;
At the end, a grown-up Rupa and Maya reunite against a backdrop of sanai players. ‘Did you have to wait long?’ asks Maya, as the two hug one another tightly. ‘Only an eternity,’ Rupa replies with a smile.&nbsp;
Only an eternity, not just for the two of them to become adults, but to wait for the walls built by the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/putting-dalits-back-in-business?amp=1"> hierarchy of caste</a>, class and exclusion to begin to crumble.&nbsp;
Says Karki: “It is not only about the physical waiting, but how they had to wait for society to transform.”
Having directed, written, and acted in Nepali theatre herself, Karki found it easy to work with actors. But while theatre is a collaborative effort, working with separate departments in filmmaking was a new experience.
“Everything is not always under your control in filmmaking,” Karki notes. “When I make my next film, I think it is going to be about my own experiences.”

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An instrument of liberation

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f379c7e80680e0b7961jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1373" height="914"/><figcaption>All photos: SRIJANALAYA/THE ASIA FOUNDATION</figcaption></figure>Rajib does not like school. His dreams are filled with snakes, pulling him into dark wells. He stares at his own reflection in the mirror, transformed by anxiety. The boy withdraws into himself, trudging against watercolour skies from one page to the next.When Rajib’s older brother arrives from Australia, he brings with him a gaming set. During one of the games, the boys enter a dark tunnel, and the brother asks: “Bhai, it’s pretty dark in here, are you scared?”Rajib responds: “No, I only get scared when I’m at school...”But the tunnel takes a sinister turn when villains show up. The snakes from Rajib’s nightmares shed their skins to reveal his classmates. He cries and finally shares with his brother the secret that has been eating him up all this time.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f3a9c7e80680e0b7962jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1197" height="821"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the book  गयल केटो (Absent Boy) by Bina Theeng and illustrators Dristi &amp; Keepa Manandhar, Rajib is bullied and suffers from the resulting anxiety. It is one of six new  books produced by <a href="https://srijanalaya.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Srijanalaya</a> in collaboration with The Asia Foundation's<a href="https://www.letsreadasia.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Let's Read Nepal</a> initiative.The project brought together six authors and six illustrators to design books on children's rights that address topics such as bullying, harassment, identities, gender- and caste-based discrimination and juvenile justice.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/milestone-in-tharu-childrens-literature/"> Milestone in Tharu children’s literature</a>, Alisha Sijapati <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/this-author-is-an-alien/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Books for young readers</a> by authors writing in languages of Nepal are rare. Even rarer are books that deal with the torment and confusion of being a child, so much of which goes unnoticed and overlooked by adults. Often, there is no vocabulary to articulate difficult thoughts and feelings – and even adults do not know what to say.Another book छ्याँबले (Chhyanbale) written by Tirtha Gurung and illustrated by Roseena Sakya is narrated by a mother swallow. Set in the mountain village of Sikles, which also called Chwiuli (barn swallow) locally the book follows an eponymous young boy who cannot walk and is bullied by his peers. Woven together are themes of loss and hope – literally a thing with feathers in the context of the book.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f3d9c7e80680e0b7963jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1196" height="820">“The inspiration for the story came from my own childhood,” says Tirtha Gurung who, like Chhyanbale, was unable to walk for a long time. “But all children grow at their own pace,” he adds, “and the book aims to give hope to parents as well, that it takes time and there is no reason to worry or feel bad.”The musical story unfolds in warm yellow and orange and fresh green through the pages as light slants and curves giving the impression of someone looking over without rest, aiming to protect.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f409c7e80680e0b7964jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1455" height="924">The artwork is similar in सुनौलो सुँगुर (The Golden Pig) by Swapnil Smriti and illustrator Swornim Shakya. It is the story of Lingyok, a young boy in Panchthar, also bullied by his classmates and teacher because of his family profession of rearing pigs. The rainy and thunderous palette mimics the unrest felt by Lingyok.Illustrations by Sapana Sanjeevni and Pallavi Payal for अम्बरको धुन (Ambar’s Tune) by Pranika Koyu on other hand is inspired by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/vibrant-mithila-art-thrives-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">vibrant Mithila art</a>. The book is a day in the life of Ambar who is wheelchair-bound, and each line and shape, all larger-than-life, frame the lucid text to tell the story of boundless imagination.“We wanted to reflect Ambar’s voice and character as closely as possible in our art,” explains Sapana Sanjeevani: “Mithila art with its two dimensional form helps to express his simple and flowing language.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f439c7e80680e0b7965jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1196" height="818">Sarita Pariyar’s उत्सुकता (Curiosity) is illustrated by Rupak Raj Sunuwar, and takes a more fabled approach to tell a powerful story of Dalit children which takes place in an entomic world, with industrious ants as protagonists.  ‘This is not an imaginary story. This is a story even more fearsome – <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-caste-struggle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the plights of caste-based discriminations</a>,’ read the first lines.“I was fascinated by weaver ants and how they use their saliva to make their homes, and this mirrored in how Dalit women use their saliva in sewing clothes which are then worn by the people of so-called upper caste.” says Rupak Sunuwar.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f469c7e80680e0b7966jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1493" height="945">Narrated by a young weaver ant, Utsukta the story poses tough questions at society’s hypocrisies. She wants to understand why she should come second to her male classmate who copied her answers in exam, or why Pantheni bajai, who ‘reeks of raw milk and cow dung’ snaps at her to stay away before sprinkling purifying water on the clothes Utsukta has carefully brought for her.Ujjwala Mahajan's जुभी (Juvie), is a much darker fable of children in juvenile homes, illustrated by Alina Chhantel in the many shades of red and black, with barbed wires running across the pages.What is striking about this surreal and sensitive story is the multitude of eyes that grow on the children’s skins, as though constantly watched and judged by the world outside.“Books about children's rights are usually didactic, and we have an image in our heads about people who are punished for breaking the law as irredeemable and violent people,” she says, “and with Juvie we wanted to break that narrative.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101148/63720f499c7e80680e0b7967jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1197" height="818">Creators met young adults in Bhaktapur Juvenile Centre before writing the book that may be too sombre for children, but both Maharjan and Chhantel wanted it to be representative of the people it was about.She says, “We believed that being honest to their story, reflecting the seriousness and discomfort, would help get the feeling across to the readers, and encourage them to be more empathetic and accountable.”Pallavi Payal hopes the books will be able to encourage more writers and illustrators to create educational materials for children in Nepal in languages that are easy to understand and relate to. She says: "Children want to read books that make them feel they are not alone.”The books are available <a href="https://www.letsreadasia.org/all/new">online</a> as PDFs in Nepali and English. To request a copy of जुभी (Juvie), please reach out to Ritica Lacoul of The Asia Foundation at ritica.lacoul@asiafoundation.org, or Srijanalaya at srijanalaya@gmail.com.Watch the book readings and conversations with authors and illustrators on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/srijanalaya">Srijanalaya's Facebook</a>.

Ashish Dhakal

For children, about children

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d122b9c7e80680e0a98c2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Young mothers with their children in Muktikot where child marriage has become more prevalent as subsistence farmers cope with a succession of droughts and floods that have destroyed harvests. All photos: SONAM LAMA</figcaption></figure>“Mulai kyai thaa bhayaanai,” murmurs Birjaman, pain and fatigue etched on his wizened face. He has just made a steep 3-hour climb from his village of Muktikot to a pharmacy carrying his semi-conscious daughter-in-law, Reti.She has post-partum haemorrhage, and has not stopped bleeding. The clinic managed to save her life, but the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">young mother</a> lost her three-month foetus. Reti was married off at 16, and at 22 already has two children.The midwife says the miscarriage was due to weakness and heavy workload during pregnancy. Reti’s husband is working in India, and she has to do all the household work, raise the children, take care of the livestock, and fetch water herself.At the pharmacy, Gopal Singh says he sees cases like this often. This is the nearest medical stop for the predominantly Dalit village of Muktikot. He says, "This is nothing new around here, we get miscarriages like this daily. Many do not make it. Young mothers are not physically mature for childbearing and couples do not use contraceptives."Marriage before age 20 is punishable by law in Nepal but it is still common. Low female literacy, poverty, discrimination and cultural norms play a role, but <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/child-marriage-in-Nepal,3863" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">child marriage</a> has become more prevalent as of late, as subsistence farmers cope with a succession of droughts and floods that have destroyed harvests.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d122f9c7e80680e0a98c3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Last winter, western Nepal suffered a 6-month drought that was followed by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/wildfires-ravage-nepal-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wildfires that raged for months</a>. Then, two weeks ago the region was hit by a freak post-monsoon storm that destroyed standing crops. Farmers had been hopeful for a good harvest because of plentiful rain this monsoon, but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/post-monsoon-rain-ruins-nepals-crops/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the unseasonal downpour</a> on 18-19 October unleashed landslides and floods and dashed their hopes.Scientists say global warming has added to the moisture content in the atmosphere, triggering <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">extreme weather</a> with erratic monsoons, frequent droughts and cloudbursts. Families in food-deficit western Nepal, already in a precarious situation, have been pushed over the edge.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12329c7e80680e0a98c4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="600"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Already stricken by poverty and caste discrimination, the impact of climate crisis means that more parents now marry off their young daughters, who in turn end up risking their lives due to early pregnancy and poor diet."My father remarried after my mother died, and he married me off at 16 saying I would have a good life after marriage," recalls Reti.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Climate crisis is a disaster in the Nepal Himalaya</a>, Sonam Choekyi LamaSubi, 16, is also from the same village. She lost her new born baby two days after home delivery three months ago. She had not had a single pre-natal check-up, was too <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-epidemic-of-hunger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">undernourished</a> to breast feed properly, and her baby eventually died of hunger.Subi herself bled for more than two weeks after the birth, and even though there were no men to carry her to the health post, she survived. She is still weak and anemic. Subi’s friend Suna is also 16 and expecting her first baby. Afraid that she may have the same complication, she walked five hours to a pharmacy to get iron tablets.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12349c7e80680e0a98c5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="994"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12389c7e80680e0a98c6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="994">Locals gathered in Muktikot. At least one member from each family is currently working in India.Suna’s mother Rauthi married her to a neighbour’s son because the family’s harvest failed after a long drought. She has seven children, all of whom have dropped out of school either to work in India, or to get married and raise their own children. The husbands of both Suna and Subi are also away in India, working to augment family income.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Women and water</a>, EditorialMost families here have at least one member working in India, and the income they send home was what helped them survive when crops failed. But many Nepalis lost their jobs during the pandemic, so even this fallback option was not there for the past two years.“Life here is tough, and getting tougher. Early marriage is the norm, since it is easier to get our daughters married, so we do not have to feed them,” says Rauthi, two of whose seven children are handicapped and cannot go to school, or work.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d123b9c7e80680e0a98c7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d123f9c7e80680e0a98c8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">Children in Muktikot have to walk across steep terrain for three hours roundtrip everyday to go to school.Nearly 40% of girls in Nepal marry before they are 18, while some 14% give birth to their first child before their 19th birthday. Moreover, children of Dalit communities are at higher risk of being <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/too-young-to-marry/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">married young</a> because of poverty, discrimination and limited access to resources.Although child marriage is less common than it used to be, it is still prevalent despite laws banning it. Now, the economic crisis due to the pandemic and the climate emergency has exacerbated the situation.This is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-curse-of-being-new-mothers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">evident in Bajura</a>, a district in Nepal with one of the worst development indicators with more than 70% of people living below the poverty line, while Nepal’s national average is 26%.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12429c7e80680e0a98c9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Frequent droughts and crop failures in recent years have further impoverished Bajura’s subsistence farmers. As it is, only 9% of the land in the mountainous district is arable, with a mere 1.42% with irrigation facility. Crop yields of barley, wheat, maize and millet harvests have dropped sharply in the past 10 years.Every year the district faces a shortage of 11,000 tonnes food grain, and a World Food Programme (WFP) bulletin classified 85% of the population being <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-pandemic-of-hunger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">food insecure</a>. Muktikot is one of the villages classified as very vulnerable to deficient nutrition.Even in years with normal harvest, food grown here is enough only to feed families for three months in year. The result is out-migration for work, malnutrition, forced child marriage, high maternal and infant mortality.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6ptI6TJqUgWith farmers so dependent on rain-fed agriculture, their fragile existence is even more precarious because of climate-related extreme weather. A 30-year precipitation data at the nearby Martadimet station shows that total annual rainfall has fallen, there is little winter snow, and even that tends to come with destructive storms.“Rainfall has always been unpredictable in these parts, but these days there is very little winter snow that we need for the spring marsi paddy and buckwheat,” says 65-year-old farmer Brija Bahadur Bam. “And when it does rain, it is so heavy that it washes away the crops.”This all adds up to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lower groundwater tables</a>, which means even perennial springs have gone dry. Indira Kandel of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology says that the rain and snow is then not enough to replenish the aquifers.The link between drought and child marriage has been proven by research in India. Reetika Revathy Subramanian, a PhD student at the University of Cambridge, has studied how drought-induced migration in the caste-ridden Marathwada region of India has increased underage marriage.“The decision for a girl to marry gets shaped by a web of intersecting factors, including poverty, access to education, social pressure and norms, harassment and intimidation, which is further exacerbated by disaster,” she explains.In Nepal’s Bajura district, too, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalits-disasters-and-discrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dalit community is more vulnerable</a> to the impact of the climate crisis on agriculture than more privileged groups. “Child marriage is rampant here but it is more likely in families hit hard by food crises and with many children,” says Birban BK of the Nepal Climate Change Support Program (NCCSP).The answer lies in making irrigation available to farmers so they are not affected by erratic rainfall, which is why the NCCSP prioritised building irrigation canals and flood-prevention gabion walls in Bajura.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12469c7e80680e0a98cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1510" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Muktikot got its name from Maoists guerrillas during the insurgency who wanted to show that the Dalit village had been liberated from caste discrimination. The war has been over for 16 years, but life is, if anything, worse for the Dalits here.Village officials and locals believe that the relocation of the entire community is the only way out. Plans are afoot for the rehabilitation of villagers to settlements up the mountains to an altitude of 2,500-3,000m where rainfall is more regular. They can grow cash crops like walnut and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-parliamentarians-apple-grove/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">apple</a>, but will be needing help accessing the market.“These practices could be diversification of livelihoods and income sources through adopting climate-resilient cash crops, connecting farmers to the markets, promoting agro-forestry and use of bioengineering for infrastructure development,” says Monika Upadhyay of WFP Nepal.Even among Dalits, it is the women from the community who are even more affected by the climate crisis. The shortage of water <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">adds to their daily drudgery</a>, because they have to walk longer to reach springs that are still functioning.Says Radha Wagle of the Climate Change Management Division at the Ministry of Environment: “In Bajura and other districts, we need climate-resilient and gender-responsive plans because women are more adversely affected by socio-economic, geographical and climatic vulnerability.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12499c7e80680e0a98cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="994"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal aims to implement these measures at local levels by 2030, the same year the government has set to end <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-child-marriages-spike-during-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">child marriage</a>. But given that the practice is still rampant, it is an ambitious target.Says Subramanian: “It is important to strengthen child marriage prevention groups, village-level committees to work closely with vulnerable families including women and girls in particular.”At nearby Radhamata Secondary School, only 13 of the 113 students in Grade 10 are unmarried. Manshova Buddha, 17, is one of them. She says: “With so many of my friends already married off by their parents, I also feel the pressure. But I am not going to give up on my dreams.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/educating-girls-for-climate-action/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Educating girls for climate action</a>, Helen GrantSome names have been changed.This report was supported by the Road to COP26 campaign implemented by the British Council and funded by UKAID.

How the climate crisis adds to child marriage in Nepal

<figure><img width="1338" height="731" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcab9c7e80680e0a0ba1jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Laxman Ramtel was recently appointed priest of the Ganesh Mandir in Godamchaur. Photos: HIMALKHABAR</figcaption></figure>One evening 20 years ago, Laxman Ramtel headed to Bhaktapur from Godavari to meet up with his friends.  When he arrived, Ramtel saw that one of his friends was shaving his beard. Thinking he too could use a shave, he attempted to borrow his friend’s shaving equipment. But another one of his friends stood up abruptly to stop him, proclaiming: "Dalits are not supposed to use the same blade as Brahmins and Chhetris." His friend’s words hurt Ramtel deeply. “I was humiliated and heartbroken that day,” he recalls. “I came back home and wept all night.” Many years later, a priest came around to his neighbourhood in Godamchaur on the southern outskirts of Kathmandu Valley, where Ramtel was born and raised, to tie the holy strings on people’s wrists during Janai Purnima.  His family, however, was treated differently. “The priest personally tied the doro on everyone else,” he says. “But when he learned that we were Dalit, he refused to approach us -- he tossed the holy thread at us from afar.” For Ramtel, the years before, between, and after these two incidents have been peppered with similar <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-caste-struggle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">discrimination</a>. He has experienced caste-based <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/caste-aside-dalits-battle-sitgma/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">prejudice and intolerance</a> all of his life, be it from strangers or friends, in a village or city, market or temple. But now, Ramtel is at the precipice of change. In July, he was appointed priest of the Ganesh Mandir at Godamchaur by the chief priest of the temple, Pandit Deenbandhu Pokharel. <img width="1703" height="999" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcae9c7e80680e0a0ba2jpeg.jpg" alt="">Ramtel, an electrician by profession, was overjoyed--to the extent that he briefly forgot about his past experiences. But soon enough, the worry began to creep back in. What if the people refuse to receive tika and blessings from a Dalit priest, he thought. “Although I was chosen because I was qualified for the job, I believe and hope that this decision contributes in some way in building a society without caste-based discrimination,” says Ramtel.oGenerations of Ramtel’s family have made their lives and livelihoods in Godamchaur. He grew up trailing along with his mother often during her visits to the Ganesh Mandir, and the temple is as much home to him as his own house. As such, Ramtel is a man of abiding faith. “I fast every Tuesday for Lord Ganesh, and I see him often in my dreams,” Ramtel says solemnly. “This opportunity might very well have been the fruit of my conviction.”As news of his appointment spread, Ramtel garnered encouragement and support from some high-profile civil society leaders, including Dr Govinda KC, who visited the temple along with social workers, writers, and legal practitioners to receive tika from the new priest to boost his morale. (Pictured, below) <img width="800" height="511" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcb19c7e80680e0a0ba3jpeg.jpg" alt="">“I was very happy to have received offerings and blessings from priest Ramtel,” said KC, while advocate Omprakash Aryal, who accompanied him says that he hopes Ramtel has been encouraged by the support.Priest Ramtel, for his part, was pleasantly surprised to have met KC and the team of civic society leaders in front of Godamchaur residents. "Today is among the happiest days in my life,” he said.Ramtel has participated in the conservation of the temple for years and was directly involved in its restoration when the 2015 earthquake destroyed it. In fact, the temple bell is still at their home and will be taken to the temple after it is fully reconstructed, says his wife Puja Roka.Ramtel’s day typically begins at four in the morning, when he makes his daily rounds of the holy pipal tree nearby before moving on to other tasks of the day. And although he has been worshipping the tree and the temple for a long time, Ramtel is unfamiliar with the rituals he will need to perform as a priest, and the protocols he needs to follow.  <img width="1800" height="1347" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcb49c7e80680e0a0ba4jpeg.jpg" alt="">But he has ample time to learn, with the temple reconstruction expected to be complete in three months. Meanwhile, he is adapting to his new circumstance, learning about the ins and outs of the temple and his life as its custodian. He is also reading the Bhagawad Gita and the Ramayana as he familiarises himself with religious texts ahead of his lessons with the chief priest Pokharel.Once he is done with the training, the hands that have helped light people's homes will also light the diyo oil lamps in the gods' home. <img width="1000" height="503" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcb79c7e80680e0a0ba5jpeg.jpg" alt="">Ramtel is also making tentative plans and schedules for the time after the temple reconstruction is complete. He intends to spend his mornings at the temple every day and entire Tuesdays. He wants to devote his time rebuilding and conserving other temples, idols, and places of religious significance around Godamchaur.His father Govinda Ramtel commends his son’s faith and attachment to the temple, which he believes was vital in his appointment by the Sanatan Goraksha Rashtra Nepal. But he also worries about the kind of reception he would get from the communities.“I hope that my son makes other people happy through his service, but I fear others will speak badly to him, make insulting remarks questioning the son of a Dalit being a priest,” says the 89-year-old.The young priest himself hasn’t forgotten the kind of treatment he received all his life for being a Dalit, and he is constantly thinking if he will face more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caste-based discrimination </a>as a priest now. He says: “I am a Hindu in the same way a Brahmin or Chhetri is, my faith in God is the same as theirs. God doesn’t care about caste, doesn’t discriminate, only humans do.”Links to Himal Khabar series on this subject:<a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125353" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125353</a> <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125374" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125374</a> Translated by Shristi Karki.

History in a house of worship

<figure><img width="934" height="442" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5a59c7e80680e0736d6jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Kalpana Nagari and Kalawati Auji from Godavari Municipality who face double discrimination from society for being Dalit and because their relatives tested positive for COVID-19 after returning from India. Photo: UNNATI CHAUDHARY</figcaption></figure>Across Nepal, it is the already under-served and vulnerable who have been affected by the prolonged lockdowns. But it is the Dalit returnees from India who have tested positive and their families who face double discrimination.The Ministry of Health issues a daily tally of COVID-19 cases, but no one is counting the poorest of the poor who are dying of hunger or pre-existing diseases, or have been have been driven deeper into destitution.Kalpana Nagari, 30, works as a day labourer by the roadside in Godavari Municipality to earn enough to feed her two children. This time of year there are plenty of jobs planting or weeding paddy fields, but she is unemployed because of social stigma after her husband, Tika Narayan, tested positive for COVID-19 last month.Tika Narayan Nagari had returned from India after he lost his job there on 15 May. He tested positive was quarantined altogether for 50 days first at the border, and later because of delays in getting his test result. But even after he got out, the Dalit family has been shunned by neighbours and society.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-long-journey-to-nepal/">The long journey to Nepal</a>, Upasana KhadkaHer family used to face discrimination even before because they were Dalit, but COVID-19 has added another layer of prejudice. Even that is not what worries Kalpana the most – it is not earning enough to feed her family.“Without work, how are we going to feed our children that is what I am most anxious about,” says Kalpana, who does not have a house of her own and lives with her sister-in-law. Her husband had to go to India to find work to repay a loan he took for his mother’s funeral.“During every meal, I worry about where the next one will come from, and I feel faint,” says Kalpana. “The landlords did not give me any work in the rice fields because they said ‘your husband has corona, you might also be infected’.’” Kalawati Auji, 40, is also from Godavari and raised her three sons all by herself after her husband died nine years ago. Her eldest son died last year, and her youngest has heart disease. Her middle child, Dipak is 22 and worked in Bareilly in India. It was the money Dipak sent home that allowed Kalawati to pay for food and medicines for her daughter-in-law, son and grandson.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside/">Caste aside</a>, Shusma BaraliBut Dipak lost his job and returned to Nepal on 30 June. He tested positive for COVID-19 and was confined in a quarantine for 34 days where he was ostracised both for being infected, and for being a Dalit. After coming home, he quarantined himself in a cowshed for a week.But even after he recovered, the family has been harassed and humiliated by neighbours. Neither Dipak not Kalwati can find a job, and they owe a neighbourhood provision store Rs50,000.Says Kalawati: “This pandemic has come to kill the poor like us.”  Fifty-year-old Harish B K also returned from Bareilly in the first week of May. Among the 234 people whose swab samples were taken, Harish was among 70 who tested positive – only two of them were non-Dalits.“The non-Dalits in the quarantine used to get hot water, lunch, and more food than us. If we asked for more food, they would ignore us,” he recalls. Now out of quarantine, but jobless, deep in debt, and facing double discrimination and humiliation, Harish says he often has suicidal thoughts.  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/workers-return-to-jobless-nepal/">Workers return to jobless Nepal</a>, Ramu SapkotaGodavari Municipality says it has plans to provide farm subsidies to the most vulnerable during the pandemic and lockdown. Deputy Mayor Ratna Kadayat says the plan will give priority to Dalits, women, and marginalised communities under the 'Prime Minister's Employment Program'.But these future plans are a mirage for most Dalit families like the Nagaris, Aujis and BKs here. Their needs are urgent and immediate, and they have heard these promises before.Rights activist Savitra Ghimire at the Dalit Women's Rights Forum (DWRF) says the relief may be too little too late for most Dalit families. Godavari and the Attaria highway intersection are hotspots for a surge in coronavirus cases. In the past month alone, the area got 4,000 returnees from India, and of them 349 tested positive and 294 have recovered and gone home.  However, being virus-free is just the beginning of the struggle for Dalit families here in western Nepal. As more and more districts re-impose lockdown, business is not expected to pick up soon, and this means fewer options for employment. And even if jobs open up, Dalit returnees and their families here will be the last to get them.­­­Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/they-killed-our-son-and-now-they-are-killing-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">“They killed our son, now they are killing justice”</a>, Shusma Barali<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/">Black lives matter but Dalit lives don't?</a>, Pratistha Rijal

COVID-19 sharpens caste discrimination in Nepal

Caste aside

<figure><img width="1500" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bac639c7e80680e077f2cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Sunita Sunar is a widow at 20 after her husband, Tikaram was killed in the murders of six young men in Rukum on 24 May. </figcaption></figure>Much of the attention after the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-caste-attack-turns-deadly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-caste-attack-turns-deadly/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594038858969000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFwO6-tK61fVzHKtMb6tZixmolFHQ">murder</a> of six young men in Jajarkot on 24 May centred on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/they-killed-our-son-and-now-they-are-killing-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/they-killed-our-son-and-now-they-are-killing-justice/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594038858969000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFuVIALVGPnKs6ZS0QA9TiVy-bQiA">Nabaraj BK</a> and his relationship with a teenage girl from a ‘higher’ caste. Nearly forgotten in the aftermath of this tragic crime are Tikaram Sunar, 20, and Sanju Bika, 21, two of Nabaraj’s friends who accompanied him to help him elope with the girl, and who were among the six lynched and thrown into the Bheri River that evening in Rukum.  What is even less well known is that Tikaram and Sanju were married and left behind widows and young children. The bodies of both young men were found a few days later downstream from the crime scene.  Sunita Sunar is Tikaram’s wife, and wears a shite shawl on top of a white mourning dhoti. Her face is swollen with constant weeping. The 18-year-old holds her two-year-old daughter in her lap and she says she has no more tears left to shed. Her daughter keeps asking, “Where is baba?” Sunita has no answer, and sobs quietly. She eloped with Tikaram when she was 14, and says her life has now fallen apart. When they brought her husband’s body home two days after the murders, Sunita fainted. His body was pale and wrinkled from being so long in the water, and it had cuts and bruises all over.   Sunita heard that night that there had been a fight in Chaujhari of Rukum involving Nabaraj BK’s group, but at first she did not think it was that serious. Still, she was afraid, and was shocked as news came later that night that Nabaraj had been killed and his body was found in the Bheri.  “I took my daughter and went to ask the police,” Sunita recalls in a soft voice. “They said they had found Nabaraj’s body and one other body that they could not identify. For some reason, I had a premonition that my husband did not survive either.” Sunita remembers the sight of her husband’s body with deep cuts made by sickles. There was blood oozing from his mouth, nose and ears. “That image just keeps coming back to me over and over again,” she says. Sunita Sunar got married as a child, and has always wanted to complete her studies. She and her husband agreed that as soon as her daughter grew up, she would go back to school. She does not know what to do now, whether to return to her parents or stay in her husband’s house. He in-laws are day labourers and earn just enough to feed the family from day to day. Their only hope was Tikaram who wanted to open a mobile repair shop to augment the family income. “My in-laws love me, but the situation here is miserable, everyone had pinned their hopes on my husband to take care of the family, now he is gone,” she says. “I never imagined that I would be alone this early on in life.”  Sanju BK’s wife, Sabina, is just 20 and has a four-year-old son to support. She was married off at 14 by her parents to Sanju even though she had never seen him. At 15 she got pregnant, dropped out of school in Grade 8, and soon gave birth to her son.  <figure><img width="1500" height="964" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bac669c7e80680e077f2djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Sunita Sunar’s two-year-old daughter and mother Gita BK.</figcaption></figure>Just like his friend Nabaraj BK, Sanju wanted to join the security forces and was already training for it. “I may not get leave after I join the forces, so we should celebrate our son’s birthday before I go, he used to say,” Sabina recalls. “I still cannot believe he is gone. I feel he will just walk in the door at any moment,” she says, breaking into silent sobs. Sanju’s father needed hospital treatment for three years, and while taking care of him he was determined that their son should grow up to be a doctor. He had taken out a loan so their son could go to a good school. Sanju BK was missing, and it was mental torture for Sabina as she heard of one body after another being retrieved from the Bheri. His body was found five days later from 30km downstream.  <figure><img width="1042" height="692" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bac6a9c7e80680e077f2ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>The banks of Bheri River between Rukum and Jajrkot district where the bodies of the victims were found.</figcaption></figure>Sanju BK’s father is still ill and cannot work. His elder sister takes care of the family business and does household chores. Sabina wanted to get a government job to help support her family, but now there is no certainty. Six weeks after the murders, Sabina is still waiting for justice for the murder of her husband and five of his friends. There is uncertainty about what will happen to the accused. So far, 23 of the 27 charged with the lynchings have been sent into custody pending trial by the Rukum West District Court. The girl Nabaraj BK wanted to elope with and her minor brother have been sent into a correctional facility. One of the accused has been named as a mastermind, while the others have been accused to abetting a caste-based murder.Says Sabina BK: “For now, we need justice. After that, I do not know what will happen.”

“I never thought I would be alone this early in life”

<figure><img width="640" height="429" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022112916110/63861eb39c7e80680e0ccddejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Mildred and Richard Loving were sentenced to jail for their inter-ethnic marriage. They took the case to the Supreme Court, and won on 12 June, 1967.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022112916110/63861eb69c7e80680e0ccddfjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Families of Nabaraj BK and his missing friends.</figcaption></figure>On 23 May, Nabaraj BK of Jajarkot and five friends were reportedly killed because he had fallen in love with a young woman from a different caste, and they wanted to marry.He went to her village in West Rukum with a group of friends to bring her back, at her request, to his village to start their lives together.But their dreams met a violent end. A group of 50-60 men from her village attacked Nabaraj and friends. The next day, Nabaraj and his friend Tikaram Sunar, both Dalits, were found dead. The bodies of four others were pulled from the river -- Ganesh Budha, Lokendra Sunar, Ganesh Budha, and Govinda Shahi.It was a heartbreaking event. Caste hatred killing love.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-caste-attack-turns-deadly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal caste attack turns deadly</a>, Prabir DadelMy own country, the United States, has a terrible, tragic history of discrimination and violence in opposition to inter-ethnic love.For many years, laws prohibited relationships between whites and blacks (or other groups). Today, 12 June is the 53rd anniversary of Loving v. Virginia, the landmark 1967 US Supreme Court case decision that eliminated these laws. <img width="640" height="190" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022112916110/63861eb99c7e80680e0ccde0jpeg.jpg" alt="">The case gets its name from the marriage of Mildred and Richard Loving. The 12 June anniversary is known as ‘Loving Day’.Mildred and Richard Loving had grown up near each other in a small community in the hills of Virginia, the state just south of Washington DC. One of America's original 13 states, Virginia had a tobacco economy based on slave labor from 1620s to the American Civil War in the 1860s. Mildred's family had lived in the area for generations, as had his. Mildred and Richard fell in love and got married in June 1958. They moved in with her family while Richard, a carpenter, built them a new house. One night five weeks after the wedding, police barged into their bedroom at 2 am to arrest them. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/african-americans-in-cold-war-nepal/" target="_blank" style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">African-Americans in Cold War Nepal</a>, Tom Robertson They were sentenced to a year in prison, or to leave the state for 25 years. Their supposed crime was violating a Virginia law prohibiting interracial marriages. Richard Loving was white. Mildred Jeter was mixed African American and Native American. To stay together, they decided to move to Washington, DC. Maryland created the first law against interracial marriage three centuries earlier, in 1661, and Virginia followed suit the next year. At the time, European settlement was only a few decades old, and the use of enslaved African people for arduous tobacco work was growing. Slavery lasted another 200 years, until the American Civil War in the 1860s. White slaveowners sometimes had sexual relations with black slaves. Rape was common. By law, children from these relations were considered black, not white or mixed, and became slaves. The American Civil War ended slavery in 1865, but afterwards white supremacists created 'segregation' laws to keep whites and blacks apart that would last for another century. Courtrooms, railroads, buses, and theaters had separate sections for whites and blacks. White and black children studied at different schools. Facilities for black Americans were far inferior to those for whites. Segregation was enforced by police, laws, and courts, but also by violence. Over the years, over 3,000 black Americans were killed in lynchings -- killings outside the legal system -- to enforce this unjust, hierarchical system. Nothing was more carefully policed than marriage separation. The Civil Rights freedom protests of the 1950s and 1960s ended most segregation laws. The last to fall were laws prohibiting mixed race marriage in 15 of the southern states, including Virginia. It was the case started by the Lovings that brought it down. After their arrest, Mildred and Richard Loving moved to Washington DC so they could avoid jail time, and be together. But they missed the place where they grew up, the hills of Virginia, and their families there. They filed a lawsuit. At the time, an elderly Virginia judge used religion to justify the law preventing interracial marriage. "Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents," he wrote. "The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix." The judge's argument used religion to deny love. It also shows a common strategy of calling one's own inaccurate and flawed ideas 'natural'. But across the world, racial groups had been intermingling and intermarrying for millennia. It was natural. Richard Loving boiled down his case to very straightforward logic. “Tell the court,” he instructed his lawyer, “I love my wife, and it is just unfair that I can’t live with her in Virginia.” In 1967, nine years after their wedding, the US Supreme Court decided 9-0 in favor of Mildred and Richard Loving. The Lovings and their three children moved back to their families in their beloved Virginia. In the US today, over 15% of marriages are between people of different racial groups. In 1990, even 25 years after the Loving v. Virginia decision, 63% of white and other non-black adults said they would opposed a close relative marrying a black person. Today only 14% say this. On Loving Day 2007, Mildred Loving shared these touching words: “My generation was bitterly divided over something that should have been so clear and right. The majority believed that what the judge said, that it was God's plan to keep people apart...But I have lived long enough now to see big changes. The older generation's fears and prejudices have given way, and today's young people realise that if someone loves someone they have a right to marry. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Richard and our love, our right to marry, and how much it meant to me to have that freedom to marry the person precious to me, even if others thought he was the 'wrong kind of person' for me to marry.” Mildred and Richard's granddaughter summarised the lesson that her grandparents taught the world: “If it’s genuine love, colour doesn’t matter.” Let's hope that today, on Loving Day, and every day, that message of love spreads from the beautiful hills of Virginia to the beautiful mountains of Nepal.

Love's victory over racial hatred

Muna Gurung

Pancha Kumari Pariyar: Still She Rises

Many of us former Nepal Peace Corps volunteers (PCVs) would agree that our time in Nepal changed in significant but very different ways our perspectives on life if not the future paths we chose to follow. Of no one was this truer than Dorothy Mierow. Dorothy was born in 1920, in Colorado Springs. Her father Charles C Mierow was a classics scholar and Latin professor, who served for ten years as president of Colorado College.&nbsp; Dorothy developed an interest in animals as a child, graduated with a BA degree in natural history from Carlton College in 1942, a Master’s in biology from the University of Pittsburgh, and another Master’s in geography from the University of Minnesota.&nbsp; As a young woman, Dorothy traveled with her father throughout Europe, including a visit to ancient Greek ruins, and took a Magellan Tour by cruise ship around the world in 1958.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262" data-rendition-name="original" width="903" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>HOME AWAY FROM HOME: Dorothy Mierow as a college student in her native Colorado.</figcaption> </figure>  She was a college teacher during much of the 1940s, also teaching at a girls’ school in Hawaii. Then back to her native Colorado in 1953, where she became a curator and later director of the Colorado College Natural History Museum. She taught geography classes, and in her free time, Dorothy climbed 22 of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. Traveling in India in 1960, Dorothy decided to spend two weeks in Nepal. In late 1961, she filled out an application to join the Peace Corps and specified that she wanted to go to Nepal, ‘because I admired the people so much when my father and I were there on our trip’.&nbsp; Dorothy reached Kathmandu in September 1962 as the first group of American Peace Corps volunteers in Nepal. She stood out from the others: one of the few women in that group, surely the oldest at age 41, a world traveler, and a woman who already had established a professional career.&nbsp; One doubts if Dorothy had had a husband and children whether she would ever have gone to work and spend much of the rest of her life in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515" data-rendition-name="original" width="1259" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="How th Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life NT"> <figcaption>Pokhara Bazar in 1962.</figcaption> </figure>  The Peace Corps assigned Dorothy to teach geography at Tri-Chandra College. After the school closed in the winter due to lack of heating, USAID and the College of Education asked Dorothy to help train general science teachers.&nbsp; She taught for two months and became involved in a textbook-writing project, commenting: ‘I would like the children to know something about public health, conservation (the trees are going fast and so is the soil), and learn the names of some of their common birds, trees, and flowers. They are more impressed with electricity, airplanes, and cell structure.’ When a new college opened in Pokhara in 1963, Dorothy was transferred there and lived with a Nepali family. The college boasted 30 students and no permanent buildings.&nbsp; In October 1963, Dorothy wrote: ‘Pokhara is a town of almost 5,000 people … We are in a fertile valley surrounded by foothills … There is a small Mission Hospital … a Leper Hospital and Tibetan Refugee Camp started by the Red Cross and now run by the Swiss. With winter approaching, more Tibetans are appearing in town, often with pack horses or donkeys. Some have been carrying large boxes of powdered milk,donated (by USAID) to the camp from the airport … There is no electricity, and the transportation problems make many items scarce and expensive. I am really a sort of a museum. The landlord brings all kinds of people in to see how I live and count my shoes and dresses. They express amazement at my books, pictures, tin oven, Nepali dolls from Kathmandu, screened food shelves and curtained closet.’ The standard term for Peace Corps volunteers was two years, but Dorothy extended her term and was still at Prithvi Narayan College at the end of 1965, when she wrote that she had 20 Geography students in the first-year class and 6 in the second year preparing for the IA Examination. The college enrollment was 125 students, and the foundation for a new science building was being excavated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="605" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow and friends at Phewa Lake.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy noted that she ate one meal a day at the (Shining Mission) Hospital but otherwise lived on dal-bhat, momo, and potato curry at local shops. However, she had developed a new passion: to build what she initially called the Pokhara Museum of the Himalaya. In commendable Peace Corps fashion, Dorothy always worked with Nepalis and respected the culture. ‘The greatest joy and satisfaction I have had has been from the building of a Museum-Library in memory of my parents … It has been possible to feel like a wealthy benefactor with the money saved by father for the family’s education and now available for the education of others… (Father) would have loved to be in on the founding of a new college and be able to plan a library. Several hundred of the books to be in the museum-library came from his collection and were carefully selected to be of use for students in Nepal…’&nbsp; ‘The museum part is to satisfy my own inclinations and was thought of when I found how little diversion there was for the people of Pokhara… It is part of the University requirements for the college that it should have a geography and biology museum. The museum building is small but adequate.&nbsp; I have tried to design it in harmony with Nepalese architecture and decorate it with some of the art of the best artists or woodcarvers… Posts holding up the porch roof are carved by Cottage Industries to represent different peoples of Nepal in typical costumes. The door was carved by a local wood carver and has typical birds of Nepal around it. Inside are 10 roof-support carvings designed by the retired Director of the National Museum in Kathmandu, Mr. C.M. Maskey.&nbsp; They were carved by the best wood carvers in Patan very skilfully. The building has three rooms: the library, the exhibition room, and a smaller workroom which can be used by our newly formed Woman’s Club as well as other groups or classes.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8" data-rendition-name="original" width="629" height="599" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow with local women in Pokhara in 1969.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy promoted her project to influential Nepalis connected with organisations whose support she solicited: The Department of Archaeology, the Department of Agriculture, the Godavari Botanical Gardens; Tribhuvan University’s Science and Education Department, Nature Conservation Society.&nbsp; The museum was opened officially in early 1967. The Annapurna Natural History Museum, the building Dorothy designed and had constructed, is still open and features some exhibits which she created many years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>The Annapurna Natural History Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy returned to America in 1967, but she longed for Nepal. In the spring of 1969, she again tried to enroll as a Peace Corps volunteer but was told that as she had spent more than four years, she would not be eligible for another assignment. Undeterred, she persuaded the college in Pokhara to invite her to return as a teacher.&nbsp; UNICEF and the Forestry Department sponsored Dorothy to prepare charts on trees, birds, animals and flowers in colour for distribution to the schools of Nepal. Dorothy, back in the Peace Corps, returned to Pokhara and the Museum in 1972. She formed a friendship with her former geography student from Sikles, Chandra Prasad Gurung, and in 1974, she brought Chandra to America, where he enrolled in Colorado College and studied cultural anthropology.&nbsp; Chandra subsequently earned his PhD in geography from the University of Hawaii and returned to Pokhara to become director of the Annapurna Conservation Area Project. Gurung actively promoted ecotourism, landscape conservation, and biodiversity conservation in Nepal. His life was cut short along with those of 23 other Nepalis and foreigners who perished in a helicopter crash near Taplejung in September 2006.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow's four books on Nepal and its biodiversity. </figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy worked with several well-known Nepalis to publish her paintings and photos in beautifully illustrated books. She and Hemanta Mishra of the National Parks and Wildlife Service wrote Wild Animals of Nepal (Ratna Pustak Bhandar, 1976). More than 400 photos Dorothy took on treks to the Everest region, Gosaikunda, Muktinath, Jumla and Rara Lake, as well as travels in the Tarai, appeared in Himalayan Flowers and Trees (Sahayogi Prakashan, 1978).&nbsp; The botanist Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha identified the species. Dorothy and Kesar Lall published This Beautiful Nepal (Sahayogi Press, 1981). Birds of the Central Himalayas (1988) contained Dorothy’s paintings of 250 species of birds found along the areas of the Kali Gandaki River, Pokhara, Chitwan and the central Tarai. Dorothy summed up her life and work in Nepal in Thirty Years in Pokhara (Pilgrims Book House, 1997). Dorothy returned to Pokhara and her adopted Gurung family several times during the 1980s and 1990s to celebrate festivals and meet old friends. Her final years were spent at her mountain cottage in Green Mountain Falls north of Colorado Springs. She died at the age of 79 in August, 2000. Nepal gave new meaning and purpose to Dorothy Mierow’s life. Daniel W Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. The author thanks Special Collections, Tutt Library, Colorado College.

How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer’s life

· On the night of 15 May, two glacial lakes burst in Tharka in Humla and the debris flow washed away homes and bridges.&nbsp; · Last week, a slurry surge on the Kali Gandaki in Upper Mustang caused at least Rs15 million in damage, and was traced to a melting glacier. · Dozens are feared dead after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">an expanding glacial lake in Tibet overflowed</a>, sweeping down into Nepal and damaging four hydropower plants generating 230MW, nearly 8% of the country’s total grid supply.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060748_45225dc707c1e9c2968ca8dbf6e564e01e4eb6e2ff254fb8eb940cf62cdd910b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250718060748_45225dc707c1e9c2968ca8dbf6e564e01e4eb6e2ff254fb8eb940cf62cdd910b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2667" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Rasuwa flood"> <figcaption>Miteri friendship bridge connecting Nepal and China was swept away in the Rasuwa flood. Photo: PRAKASH CHANDRA TIMILSENA / NPL</figcaption> </figure>  And those are just in the past month. Climate scientists say Himalayan glacial lake outbursts are becoming more frequent and destructive, and a warning for Nepal not to put all its eggs in the hydropower basket.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">Record precipitation last September</a> unleashed floods that killed 200 people, and temporarily slashed Nepal’s total generation capacity of 3,000MW by nearly half. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster">Melamchi flood of 2021</a> caused by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-not-so-permanent-frost">permafrost melting</a> on a glacier upstream nearly destroyed a $800 million water supply scheme, Nepal’s largest infrastructure project which four years later still has not resumed full operation. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">glacial lake overflow in Sikkim</a> caused by record rainfall in September 2023 that destroyed the $1.2 billion Chungthung Dam and caused catastrophic damage to infrastructure on the Teesta River. This was a warning to the cascade of hydropower plants on the Arun and Marsyangdi river basins.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060736_6f61797a6be308321e3bae26e55d2f64cba4b9e5eb262adacb9e92fb5f3c6152.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250718060736_6f61797a6be308321e3bae26e55d2f64cba4b9e5eb262adacb9e92fb5f3c6152" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="549" loading="lazy" alt="hydro disasters and hydropower plants"> </figure>  Nepal has set a target of generating an additional 28,500MW by 2035 -- out of the feasible 48,000MW -- but how viable is an energy strategy that is exposed to heightened risk due to climate breakdown? &nbsp; “As extreme weather events increase, we must design and build infrastructures respecting river flow and topography,” says former Energy Secretary Dwarika Nath Dhungel. “We must make the best use of our water resources, but not by letting excavators loose everywhere mining riverbeds and building haphazardly where we shouldn’t.”&nbsp; Although no project can be disaster-proof, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure">climate smart design</a> can minimise damage from flash floods and landslides. Recent disasters have driven up insurance premiums for energy projects in Nepal, and smaller ones cannot even afford them. The 456MW Upper Tamakosi hydroelectric project which is still not fully functional after the September floods has claimed insurance worth Rs1.8 billion. The alternative to high risk high investment hydropower projects is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-s-cooking-in-nepal-besides-politics">energy diversification</a> to other renewables such as solar, wind or biogas. Nepal gets annual sunlight of 300 days with 6-7 hours on average to total 50,000 terawatt-hours (TWh) per year.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060744_4acd452b4117180ca9bb5d3be839ff46dfd5464e4d507f5ad3704cef6253bc48.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250718060744_4acd452b4117180ca9bb5d3be839ff46dfd5464e4d507f5ad3704cef6253bc48" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="solar power"> <figcaption>Farmers in Tarai using solar powered water pump. Photo: GHAMPOWER</figcaption> </figure>  The Solar and Wind Energy Resource Assessment (SWERA) calculates that Nepal could source 3,000MW from wind energy alone, considering 10% of the area with more than 300W/m2 wind power density. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Solar energy</a> stations are cheaper and quicker to build, and would be an ideal alternative to reliance on hydropower.&nbsp; “There has been some investment in solar power, especially from the state sector,” says water expert Madhukar Upadhyay. “But there is an issue of land acquisition since the arrays need a lot of space. It is comparatively easier to get a permit to put up a hydropower plant on a river.” As for biogas, there is simply no incentive to build on past success with household level plants to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-bullshit">promote industrial-scale production</a>. Scaling up biogas by integrating it with urban biodegradable waste would still be a viable alternative to LPG.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060744_715d44afd5eb4ba8dafa209b0ad0f19400665797b5f078f5636821e600f96684.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250718060744_715d44afd5eb4ba8dafa209b0ad0f19400665797b5f078f5636821e600f96684" data-rendition-name="original" width="1419" height="954" loading="lazy" alt="windmill"> <figcaption>A wind mill in Hapsikot in Nawalpur. Photo: WINPOWER NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s public sphere is buzzing with excitement over the discovery of potentially 430 billion cubic metres of methane gas beneath Dailekh district that, if properly harnessed, would meet the country’s energy demand for the next 50 years. Even though a feasibility study is awaited, politicians from the prime minister down see this as a petro bonanza that will make Nepal rich. But drilling, storage and distribution of CNG in the country’s current kleptocratic state make that unlikely. If Nepal was to get rich solely on its hydro-energy potential, it could have done so in the past 50 years. Says Dhungel: “This is not exactly a new discovery, but it is premature to celebrate until its extraction is proven to be cost effective. And let us hope it does not get <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balance-of-power">tangled in geopolitics</a>, since China is involved in the prospecting and drilling, which could make India uneasy.”&nbsp; The country suffers from the Dutch Disease curse even before its resource is fully exploited. And the same cronyism, corruption and rent-seeking structure cannot deliver the riches we expect from Dailekh’s methane discovery. Now, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/right-climate-for-nepal-s-energy-transition">with hydropower in jeopardy</a>, Nepal’s planners will have to evolve a new strategy for energy security into the future. But first, governance needs to be cleaned up with long-term strategic planning that takes climate risk into account. For example, do we need to mine fossil gas when there are renewable options? Will Dailekh take Nepal away from its climate commitments? Says Madhukar Upadhyay: “Nepal has always been resource rich and management poor. And the larger the resource, the bigger our management incapacity. It is a societal malaise.”&nbsp;

Nepal’s Resource Curse

Nepalis are living longer than ever. By 2028, the country is set to join the ranks of other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-demographic-window-is-closing">ageing societies</a> around the world, and by 2054, 1 out of every 7 people in Nepal will be over 65. Life expectancy at birth has risen dramatically from just 55 in 1990 to 71 today, &nbsp;thanks to improvements in public health and access. But as more people live longer, the country must also prepare for a parallel rise in age-related illnesses and the complex social and medical needs that come with an <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/need-to-prepare-for-ageing-society,3624">ageing population</a>. Extended families have always acted as a safety net for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/home-sweet-home-for-older-nepalis">the elderly</a>, with children and grandchildren shouldering most caregiving duties. But with more than 1,600 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">Nepalis migrating </a>every day, older parents are left behind with no one to care for them. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-equaliser">Remittances</a> from migrating youth, which account for nearly a third of Nepal’s GDP, have kept the economy afloat. But money sent home cannot make up for the chronic departure of kin and caregivers, who are often the first to catch the signs and symptoms of disease in elders. In rural areas where over 85% of Nepal’s elderly live, the absence of this daily vigilance means early signs of illness often go unnoticed until they become debilitating. As a result, chronic conditions like hypertension, diabetes, and depression are left unmanaged.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250720130748_213f2c65f2638872e9ac0550a7ac251e4960c3726dc5c76215962a23ba71dff1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250720130748_213f2c65f2638872e9ac0550a7ac251e4960c3726dc5c76215962a23ba71dff1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="701" loading="lazy" alt="Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier"> </figure>  Geriatric medicine is largely absent from medical curricula and there is no national plan in place to manage cognitive decline, memory loss and confusion. These are often mistaken for signs of normal ageing, instead of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dementia-brings-new-problem-that-families-have-little%20knowledge-of,2151">dementia</a>, delaying care until it is too late. The same pattern plays out with strokes, osteoarthritis, and vision problems — conditions that could be managed early but are instead allowed to spiral into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/changing-disability-to-this-ability-h68f6sq2">disability</a>. Nepal is not ready for an older future. It needs a strategy for ‘smart ageing’ where the focus is not adding years to life, but enhancing years lived through the intelligent application of policy, infrastructure, and crucially, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">technology</a>. Many models of smart ageing, however, are sculpted around modern societies where independent living in later life is the norm. Furthermore, eroding traditional family care and an underdeveloped formal care system means there is a large gap that can’t simply be filled by copy-pasting from foreign models. Nepal must shape its own version of smart ageing. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/healthcare-moving-from-hospitals-to-homes?%2F">tech boom</a> has led to homegrown digital healthcare apps such as Hamro Doctor, Cura Health, Jeevee and Health Yaad Ayo which offer teleconsultations, online appointments, and at-home test bookings. As <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/nepal-s-new-digital-landscape">smartphones and internet access</a> extend to the most rural fringes of the Nepali countryside, geography is no longer a barrier to the use of these digital tools. What limits their use is the lack of digital proficiency among the older generation. Others find the idea of turning to a device instead of a familiar, reassuring face unfathomable. That is why <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/addressing-nepals-digital-divide?ref=blog.togglecorp.com">digital literacy</a> efforts must be paired with guided human support to build trust alongside technical skill. Such a model of community-led digital mediation is already gaining traction elsewhere. In the UK, ‘digital health ambassadors’—often young people or even schoolchildren—are trained to co-design and advocate for online platforms that resonate with peers who might otherwise feel excluded from automated health services. A Nepali version could engage cohorts of nursing students, tech-savvy youngsters and returnee migrants to assist elders in navigating digital health platforms and troubleshooting problems, and most of all, normalising the idea of health apps being a reliable recourse.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250720130748_fcb94ab76e76b5574189757e88d76fccad4e115e78dd9eae92a3bd4c882c3431.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250720130748_fcb94ab76e76b5574189757e88d76fccad4e115e78dd9eae92a3bd4c882c3431" data-rendition-name="original" width="2246" height="1590" loading="lazy" alt="Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier"> </figure>  Nepal’s own network of Female Community Health Volunteers (FCHVs), whose credibility is rooted in long-standing relationships across rural communities, could be similarly upskilled, their roles in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/target-2030-for-maternal-and-newborn-health">maternal and child health </a>expanded and repurposed to also include geriatric tech support. However, there is a limit to how much older adults can adapt to new technologies. So, Nepal should simultaneously invest in passive technologies—tools that monitor and act for the elderly, instead of demanding active use. That is where wearables and in-home smart health devices collectively known as 'gerontechnology' come in. Picture an 82-year-old in far-flung Rolpa, away from the facilities of an urban hospital. Installed in her home are low-cost motion sensors that monitor prolonged inactivity or signs of a fall, instantly triggering alerts to the nearest health post when necessary. On her wrist, a wearable bracelet continuously tracks her sleep, vital signs, oxygen saturation, and glucose levels. This data is encrypted and synced to a digital dashboard accessible by health staff at the local post. If the system flags an acute risk—such as a potential stroke or hypoglycemia—a nearby health worker is dispatched immediately to her home. If her readings over time indicate a trend toward a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepalis-have-high-blood-pressure">chronic condition</a> like diabetes, community health volunteers step in. They help schedule a virtual consultation with an endocrinologist in Butwal. Based on the advice received, she gets a prescription and picks up her medication from the local community pharmacy, along with a smart dispenser to ensure she sticks to her treatment plan without missing doses. This is not as far-fetched as it may sound. Many of the individual devices forming this connected medical system called an Internet of Medical Things (IoMT) already exist in Nepal as imported commercial products. What is missing is a stronger framework for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/public-health-partnership">public-private collaboration</a>: one where health tech companies continue developing locally adapted tools, and the government actively integrates these innovations into public health delivery. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/nepal-as-an-ai-power-bank">Nepal’s tech ecosystem</a> is maturing, but policymaking must evolve in tandem, especially when it affects an older generation largely resistant to change. The backlash against the recent mandate requiring National Identity Cards for accessing social security benefits revealed the pitfalls of imposing top-down reforms without adequate preparation or support for seniors. For Nepalis to age well, community caregivers, doctors, innovators, and above all, the state, must step in where families have stepped away. The goal is not to replicate traditional care, but to build a coordinated system of support that connects everyone through technology. The future is older for Nepal, let us be wiser too. The writers are pursuing their undergraduate studies in biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier

चौतारा rest stops have long been an integral part of scenic touristic town of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-six-decades-ago">Pokhara </a>but are now rarely seen as the city bursts at the seams. They say inhabitants of Pokhara saw a plane before they saw cars. Indeed, the grass airfield was built in the 1950s, while the Kathmandu highway 20 years later. Before roads, people walked to get around, pausing to rest or even nap under the shade of banyan-pipal trees. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-s-desperation-and-hope">Pokhara airport’</a>s ‘terminal’ in those days was a shady chautara where passengers waited for their flights. The chautara bore silent witness to daily life, whether it was travellers seeking a brief respite from the summer heat or villagers gathering for a chat in the mornings and evenings. But with the roads came vehicles, and then houses started filling up spaces, even farmlands. Pokhara began transforming from a serene village to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-comes-alive-at-night">bustling city</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2147" height="1581" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  The banyan-pipal trees were chopped down to make way for wider intersections and buildings. The once-iconic rest stops that carried Pokhara’s identity had all but vanished. “Building chautara was once considered a religious duty, which is why so many of them were constructed across Pokhara,” says archivist Sunil Ulak. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10927">Ekai Kawaguchi</a>, a Japanese Buddhist monk, who visited Nepal 120 years ago en route to Tibet, documented <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-visitors-in-pokhara-to-admire-view">the landscape of Pokhara</a> and its surroundings. In his book, Three Years in Tibet, he reflects on the natural beauty of the town and its shady trees. A chautara used to be surrounded by ponds, where shepherds would bring their cattle to drink from while they took a nap under the shade. The gentle rustling of leaves in the cool breeze lent a soothing melody as did the chirping of birds, while the insects took refuge in the branches and leaves. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-800-years-ago">Pokhara 800 years ago</a>, Kunda Dixit This ‘nature’s breeze’, as botanist Kalyan Panta puts it, is now history due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">haphazard urbanisation</a>. “When the wind strikes against one leaf, it creates a domino effect and other leaves start waving as well,” he explains. There were 632 chautara in the city until 1977, and by 2000 the number had fallen to 278. But in some wards the number of trees fell from 55 in 1984 to only five now.&nbsp; The gradual loss of these resting places has meant habitat <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">destruction of birds and insects</a>, it has also damaged the environment and natural beauty of the city.&nbsp; Researcher Jagannath Adhikari’s study showed that infrastructure projects ignored the environment, and concluded that that urbanisation in Pokhara was unsustainable.&nbsp; The destruction continues to this day. Recently, old chaurata in wards 6, 13 and 14 were cleared to make way for a sacrificial ritual. In fact, ward 6 got a permit from the local government to clear its remaining trees.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  But in wards 13 and 14, the Human Service Foundation cut down some 33 trees for which it is in a dispute with the metropolitan city as there is no unclear jurisdiction regarding who gives the permit. The Kaski Division Forest Office is currently investigating the matter. Elsewhere in ward 19, the ward office had launched ‘मेरो रूख, म काट्छु’ campaign due to an alleged chaos caused by monkeys in the area. The decision was rescinded after an all-around opposition.&nbsp; To be sure, there are policies in place to protect trees such as the Gandaki Province Forestry Act, 2080, and the Regulations, 2081. The province government also introduced an act in 2019 per which no tree, including pipal, silk cotton and other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/trees-trees?%2F">trees of natural and historical importance</a> shall be damaged, eroded or removed. But the local government, responsible for implementing the Act, is doing the opposite. “If this rapid rate of tree felling continues, neither trees nor chautara will survive for the future generation,” conservationist Ram Bahadur Poudel tells us, adding that old trees are being cleared under the pretext of pruning branches. Interestingly, Ulak notes that Pokhara-8 was called सिमलचौर in the past because there were so many majestic silk cotton trees, but there are very few left, if any, and hence altering the identity of a place. With modernisation, people have questioned the significance of chautara in this day and age. But they still have relevance. Urban centres in Pokhara and Kathmandu are much hotter than the outskirts because of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/in-the-heat-of-the-moment-5xcycyot">urban heat island effect</a>. Says archivist Ulak: “While their original purpose was to provide rest, today they continue to play a crucial role in regulating temperature, beautifying the city, and preserving our environment.”

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