<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

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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

The daily 10-hour curfew at Tribhuvan International Airport from 8 November that will last five months has affected tourism during Nepal’s peak season, with some hotels and trekking agencies here reporting cancellations into spring next year. The reduced hours at Nepal’s main aviation gateway till 31 March means that a third of all flights have been cut. This has also caused ticket prices to surge by up to eight times of normal fares. For example a Kathmandu-Delhi ticket that used to cost Rs12,000 is now listed at Rs50,000, and even then seats are not available.&nbsp; “Especially if they are here to trek, change in flight dates can cause tourists to miss their connections,” says Jagan Timilsina, who runs a trail running and outdoor education business. &nbsp; Pokhara is feeling the brunt as hotels report last-minute cancellations for November because of flight disorders. Some hoteliers also say although there have been some cancelled trips, most itineraries have been rescheduled.&nbsp; Hari Prasad Sharma Gaire of the local chapter of the Hotel Association of Nepal says the Kathmandu airport closure should have been timed for the off-season. He told us: “Starting construction during the peak tourist season was a mistake and will cause the tourism industry to lose a lot of business. The upgrade could have been spread out over a longer time but closed for fewer hours at night so that disruption was minimal.”&nbsp; Nearly a third of the 1.2 million tourists who visit Nepal annually come to Pokhara, which is also the gateway to Mustang, the Annapurna treks and pilgrimage tourism to Muktinath. Located by scenic lakes with a range of adventure sports like hot air ballooning, paragliding, canyoning, bungee and ziplines, Pokhara is also popular among diaspora Nepalis. “Besides its own attractions, Pokhara is really the hub for central Nepal, and we have been trying to get visitors to extend their stay here,” says Timilsina, who started out as a trekking porter and rose up the ranks to be an expedition guide and entrepreneur. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024111603114_0e071ce63ea9b0a9a7ee76f8c3cea0ff08c6767c41dd09f6bc4413d2db067a60.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024111603114_0e071ce63ea9b0a9a7ee76f8c3cea0ff08c6767c41dd09f6bc4413d2db067a60" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2333" loading="lazy" alt="Pokhara's tourism woes NT"> <figcaption>Tourist arrivals in Pokhara have slumped since the disruptions at Kathmandu airport due to upgrading work. Photo: KRISHNA MANI BARAL/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Even without the Kathmandu airport closure affecting tourist arrivals, Pokhara was already suffering from a decline due to many factors like the poor state of the Prithvi Highway, the shortage of luxury accommodation for high-end tourists, and the reluctance of international airlines to start direct flights to Pokhara despite an expensive new airport that was inaugurated two years ago.&nbsp; “There was a lot of initial excitement on the construction of the international airport,” says Timilsina, “but it hasn’t delivered as expected due to politics. People have invested in nearby businesses, and have faced losses.” India has blocked direct flights from its cities to Pokhara because the facility was built by a Chinese company. Although tourists and pilgrims from India hit record levels this year, the poor state of the highways and the Indian bus accident on the highway to Kathmandu in July that killed 27 pilgrims from Maharashtra state dampened arrival figures. Gaire says, “While tourist arrivals to Pokhara are now approaching pre-Covid levels, we haven’t seen the improvement we were expecting. We need a better marketing strategy. What are our embassies abroad doing?”&nbsp; Indeed, Pokhara used to be a favourite destination for Chinese tourists. There was a boom in arrivals from China before Covid, especially after a popular Chinese tv serial was shot on location here. But arrivals from China have not really recovered since the pandemic because of the economic slowdown there. Promoting Pokhara airport to handle direct flights from Chengdu or Kunming could revive Chinese arrivals.&nbsp; Nepal’s Civil Aviation Authority (CAAN) has used the Kathmandu airport closure as an excuse to arm-twist international airlines to start flying to Bhairawa, which has barely been in operation for two years since it was inaugurated. So far, Fly Dubai, Thai AirAsia, Jazeera and Qatar are flying to Bhairawa, but most use it as a hop before flying on to Kathmandu, which does not reduce congestion at Kathmandu.&nbsp; An ideal situation could have been to get Pokhara to run to full capacity while Kathmandu is partially out of action. Pokhara entrepreneurs are puzzled why the CAAN and the national government have not taken more interest in promoting Pokhara as an alternative to reduce the congestion in Kathmandu. Nepal’s football team that was flying to Dushanbe this week couldn’t get tickets via Delhi, and took a domestic flight to Bhadrapur, crossed over to Bagdogra and flew on to Delhi to catch their flight to Tajikistan.

Pokhara’s tourism woes

An excerpt of a conversation between an anthropologist and linguist Mark Turin, PhD and Lava Deo Awasthi, PhD, the first Chairperson of the Language Commission of Nepal. Nepali Times: What is the role of Nepal’s Language Commission and when was it formed? Lava Deo Awasthi: The Constitution of Nepal (2015) created a Language Commission (LC) with the following four core mandates: (a) to develop eligibility criteria for gaining status as an official language and offer recommendations to the Government of Nepal about the official language(s) in each province; (b) to offer recommendations to the Government about measures to be taken for the conservation, promotion, and development of languages; (c) to suggest possible ways of using mother tongues in education by assessing their stage of development; and, (d) to conduct studies, carry out research and perform monitoring functions about the response to the constitutional provisions for the federalisation of languages in Nepal. The Commission was founded in 2016 and I was appointed as the Chairperson of the Commission in September of the same year by the Cabinet of Ministers. What in your own professional and educational background helped to prepare you for the role? I have worked with the Government of Nepal for about 30 years, alongside holding teaching appointments at universities in Nepal. Prior to assuming the role of the Chairperson of the Commission, I served as permanent Secretary to the Government of Nepal and worked as the Chief Administrator of the Central Development Region. I was appointed as Director General of the Department of Education and completed my assignments as Joint Secretary at the Planning, Monitoring and Educational Administration Divisions of the Ministry of Education.&nbsp; In addition, I have taught courses as a visiting professor at Tribhuvan University and Kathmandu University for more than three decades. Later, I also started supervising MPhil and PhD students at the Far Western University in Mahendranagar, Kanchanpur. My PhD project from the Danish University of Education was dedicated to making sense of Nepal’s social construct and commitment to multilingualism, exploring the persistence of monolingual school practices in the face of constitutional promises and state commitments to multilingualism. I conducted a survey of Nepal’s languages and carried out a qualitative study of the Tharu language in the district of Bardia. I analysed language policy statements and explored classroom pedagogies in schools. I documented how teachers showed a tendency to resist change and maintain the status quo because they were not consulted when new educational language policies were introduced. Teachers also exhibited a deeply-held adherence to the Gurukul education system which appears to have been harnessed as a way to resist newer pedagogical ideologies imported from the West. Recognising how engrained these rich traditions of knowledge transmission are, I wanted to know how students’ engagement in the learning process appeared to have dwindled, creating a gap between children’s home languages and the language(s) of the school. Whilst statutory provisions for education in the mother tongue were oriented towards promotion, classroom pedagogies remained resolutely monolingual and exclusionary. The result was that multilingual education policies that had been introduced in Nepal did not result in meaningful changes in classroom practices. My research was also a reflection of childhood traumas I had experienced at the earliest stage of formal education. My home language, Baitadeli, has a strong oral tradition and no written literature. English is my fifth language in terms of exposure and competence, and my home district of Baitadi is well-known for its loyalty to the local language. I had to drop out of school after completing my sixth grade. Staying at home, I received much attention from my family and had much greater exposure to my native language, culture and environment. My overall impression is that dropping out of school had a surprisingly positive impact on my life. The opportunity offered a surprising dividend for me as I gained mastery in my mother tongue and received extensive exposure to folk literature and Indigenous knowledge and survival skills, cultivating my interest in language, culture, literature and local cosmologies.&nbsp; Now that I reflect on it, I appreciate how language has always played a key role in my life. I grew up in a multilingual environment: brought up with Baitadeli, Hindi, Sanskrit, Nepali and English. Language played a major part in my decision to leave school and my later success is closely linked to my competence in several languages. It was rewarding to be at home with my family as I deepened my understanding of native language and culture, which in turn helped me to harness and refine my art of living. Languages matter so much to me because they are both software and hardware. Later, when I was in secondary school, I realised that my command of my home language contributed significantly to enhancing my Nepali and English. I used my mother tongue as a form of linguistic capital to strengthen my competence in both English and Nepali.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024111811110_5400ba54792bf9e4854e1c1effde8bf09804e99647f23513700b450cc49adc4a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024111811110_5400ba54792bf9e4854e1c1effde8bf09804e99647f23513700b450cc49adc4a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Dr Lava Deo Awasthi"> </figure>  In your term as the Commission’s first Chairperson, what were your strategic goals and objectives? My first strategic goal was to create an environment conducive to implementing the provisions of the Constitution of Nepal in relation to language. My priority was to prepare a detailed action plan for my six-year tenure in consultation with language stakeholders, including language experts, professionals, activists, Indigenous community members and representatives of relevant national and local-level institutions. The Commission formed a body of high-level advisors to ensure that the Chairperson’s work was well-informed and credible. The advisors to the committee had highly visible professional and social reputations in Nepal and had much experience in the field of language conservation, promotion, research and development. Another strategy we adopted was to establish close institutional linkages with federal, provincial, and local level governments for collecting opinions and disseminating information widely.&nbsp; What critical issues did you have to consider while discharging your duty? When Nepal’s new Constitution was drafted, a number of concerns could not be adequately addressed. These related to the conservation of languages, the recognition of official languages at the provincial level, and the use of mother tongues at federal, provincial, and local levels. These unresolved issues and matters pertaining to the federalizsation of Nepal’s languages were passed on to the Language Commission to address and resolve.&nbsp; Regarding the recommendations for official languages, a five-year timeline had been set by the Constitution. With great effort, we succeeded in having all provinces agree to recognise their official languages as per the recommendations of the Commission.&nbsp; What were your greatest achievements during your term? One of the greatest achievements was that we succeeded in setting a language agenda at all levels. Nepal’s language communities and other stakeholders expressed the view that this was the first time their languages were recognised and their voices heard by the state. People participated in debates and discussed issues relating to language that in all likelihood had never before happened in their lifetimes, at least not in ways that were supported by the state. We encouraged people to speak in their own language(s) and provided translators during plenary sessions and group discussions. Another major achievement was developing criteria for the status planning of languages at federal, provincial, and local levels, and to recommend 11 province-level official languages, in addition to the Nepali language. Similarly, a notable achievement was recognising Indigenous languages spoken by smaller communities, all of whom faced ongoing marginalisation and high levels of endangerment. The Commission identified 9 new languages that had not been reported in the 2011 census, and provided a framework for recognising official languages within a municipality. The commission emphasised the need for documentation and digitisation of languages for developing corpora and archives at national and sub-national levels.&nbsp; Languages of historical importance as well as classical languages were given recognition for their protection, growth, and development. Recommendations were made for the conservation, promotion and development of Nepal’s marginalised languages that are threatened by majority languages and for those languages that hold particular power at local and global levels. Recommendations were also made for how best to safeguard Nepal’s languages from the ever-growing spread of English and other powerful, globalising languages.&nbsp; A further important aspect of the Commission’s work was to emphasise mother tongue medium instruction in schools across the nation. Recognising the role of language in children’s cognitive, socio-emotional and academic development, the Commission suggested strategies for linking schools with ward-level language clusters for use in the classroom. The importance of nurturing and respecting a child’s first language was reiterated in the Commission’s recommendations for children’s learning and all-round development. By the end of my term, a remarkable change could be observed in terms of building trust within and across Nepal’s diverse language communities. A network of language groups and stakeholders across the country proved to be a powerful way of bringing all language communities under one roof for a collective review of and response to the process of federalising language policy. The many language stakeholders across Nepal appreciated the opportunity to work within a coordinated framework, and—feeling empowered by this—seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the initiatives taken by the Commission.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024111811114_b45297fdd2fedf17bdb6313e495a1062c0d87f1a19fa5349f871f220b75f93ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024111811114_b45297fdd2fedf17bdb6313e495a1062c0d87f1a19fa5349f871f220b75f93ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dr Lava Deo Awasthi NT"> </figure>  What were the most significant challenges for you as Chairperson? One of the major challenges was winning people’s trust in advocating for the mission of the Language Commission. I faced considerable resistance as I sought to emphasise the use of native languages in families and communities. While the Commission advocated for multilingualism and promoted linguistic diversity, the prevailing policy circles and central level institutions had been deeply influenced by a one-language discourse and ideology of Nepali only. The spread of English also poses a huge threat to Nepal’s languages. However, people in power do not seem to see this as a problem. They tend to abandon their own languages in preference for English. The way that Nepal’s municipalities are increasingly introducing English as a medium of instruction at the earliest stage of a child’s school-based education has proven to be detrimental to their cognitive development, socio-emotional wellbeing and academic success. Most of Nepal’s elites have been heavily influenced by the spread of English and remain unaware about its impact on their home languages as well as on the inter-generational transmission of Indigenous languages in the country. I wish that we could have produced more compelling evidence to show the consequences of making poor policy choices for our children’s education. Demystification calls for a collective response. To make change happen across this entire, complex and federalising country was daunting work and left like a race against time. I feel that I could have done more to offer concrete examples in favour of using the mother tongue as a medium of children’s education at the earliest stages of a child’s education. What do you see the Language Commission achieving in the next 5-10 years? The Language Commission will have to ensure that all of its key recommendations are implemented at all levels of government. In 10 years’ time, all seven of Nepal’s provinces will have their official languages in place. These languages will also be recognised as languages of federal business, alongside Nepali. I anticipate that all official languages in the federal and provincial systems will have a national portal for inter-language corpora using machine translation to fulfil their federal, provincial and local level language functions, and that all languages spoken in Nepal will be represented through a digital database in the national archive. The Office of Statistics will monitor the status of Nepal’s languages over time. By the end of the next decade, each municipality in the country will have recognised one or two official languages at the local level, based on speech populations. Other local languages will have received community-level legal recognition and official status to fulfil their functional roles. Languages that are highly endangered or at risk will be entitled to receive state grants for enhancing local level capabilities to encourage families and young learners to speak the language. Incentive schemes will be introduced in municipalities that promote language within the family and at home. Inter-generational transmission of languages will have received welcome and timely attention across Nepal. It is my hope that all schools—public and private—will have introduced mother tongue medium instruction at the earliest stage of school education, at least up to class five. Nepali, English and other national as well as classical and foreign languages will be taught as subjects. The existing policy of English medium education at the early stage of education will be abolished. The Government of Nepal will be held accountable if the number of speakers of any language decreases or if local communities face language loss and greater endangerment. Under the aegis of the Language Commission, a Centre for Language Research and Innovation will be created with world-class facilities for language documentation and archiving in collaboration with Tribhuvan University’s Central Department of Linguistics and other relevant institutions. Harnessing the vastness of Nepal’s linguistic diversity, the Language Commission will morph into a centre of excellence for national and international communities to engage in collaborative language research, to share experiences and document best practices at in service of global linguistic diversity and Nepal’s many Indigenous languages.

Languages are both software and hardware

Nearly 750,000 Nepalis went abroad for employment in the past year, and more than 100,000 left on student visas. Most of them were young Nepali men and women, and the number has been increasing every year. As with other sections of society, Nepal’s security agencies also face a recruitment crisis. Nepal Police opened recruitment for 64 inspectors in September, and received 2,239 applications, compared to 2,718 candidates last year. Police also invited candidates for 256 assistant sub-inspectors this year for which it received 17,756 applications – down from 19,932 last year. It is the same story in the Nepal Army, the number of applicants for the post of Officer Cadet (Second Lieutenant) went down from 6,144 for 400 open seats in 2019 to 4,390 in 2020. Meanwhile, applicants in the paramilitary Armed Police Force went down from 857 applications for 75 posts in 2021 to 536 applicants for 99 posts last year. While the number of applicants appears higher than the demand, the data shows a significant decrease in applications for vacancies in Nepal’s law enforcement agencies. Security personnel are recruited on the basis of rank and age in Nepal, and the age cutoff for entry into Nepal’s security agencies is typically 25 years. Sociologist and migration expert Ganesh Gurung says that the demographic of young, physically fit Nepalis emigrating abroad in search of better opportunities has impacted recruitment into law enforcement and the military here at home. “The returns from working in Nepal’s police and army are minimal, whereas overseas job opportunities are more attractive,” Gurung says. “The work may be physically demanding abroad, but the pay is a lot higher.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116041148_a7e477e0ee2f56acf16c2559fdb24d8f0377f7bc1f9e56138bc40108fc4fa33f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241116041148_a7e477e0ee2f56acf16c2559fdb24d8f0377f7bc1f9e56138bc40108fc4fa33f" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="534" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Police"><figcaption>Nepal Police</figcaption></figure>  Nepal Police spokesperson DIG Dan Bahadur Karki agrees that the physical and mental demands of a law enforcement job is incomparable to the income that security personnel earn. “A young Nepali who works in Dubai earns enough to build a home in the village within four years, while a Nepali with the same qualifications and physical ability in a security agency here barely makes enough to survive,” says Karki. “Obviously the youth prefer foreign employment.” Security agencies are now worried about the quality of inducted manpower. “There is a difference in work ethic between an applicant chosen from a competitive pool of 50 candidates versus one chosen from a pool of three candidates,” explains Gurung. “Unmotivated employees hamper the overall performance of the state apparatus.” Nepal Army spokesperson Brigadier General Gaurab Kumar KC says recruitment has not been hampered by outmigration: “We have still been getting more than three times the applicants than there are open posts, so we are not yet worried.” Even so, the passing rates of aspirants have gone down for security forces after the Public Service Commission began examinations for military recruitment in 2015. In fact, the Nepal Army complained about the Commission’s involvement in recruitment. Still, the number of vacant military posts tends to exceed the number of passing candidates. Nepal Army’s KC says that the military will not compromise on intake criteria even if there are fewer passing applicants. “Unqualified persons will not be admitted even if there are less-than-required passing candidates. We will re-advertise if that is the case.” But Nepal’s security forces now also have to worry about retention of existing personnel. About 900 Nepal Army, 600 Nepal Police, and 300 Armed police personnel resign every year before the completion of their tenure.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116041148_b8cd62f70eea3aac7d3d3778615a5b70b1e20550c9bd76321f051f9c766fd2a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241116041148_b8cd62f70eea3aac7d3d3778615a5b70b1e20550c9bd76321f051f9c766fd2a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="378" loading="lazy" alt="Armed police forces"><figcaption>Armed Police Force</figcaption></figure>  In 2020, Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa recalled almost 1,000 police personnel who had been deployed for the security of VIPs after long-standing criticism that security forces were being misused to cater to political and bureaucratic leadership. However, security personnel have continued to be assigned to high-ranking officials as glorified housekeepers. In December 2022, Rabi Lamichhane’s Home Ministry had instructed its offices to recall unauthorised security personnel assigned to high-ranking officials, following which 500 officers from Nepal Police and Armed Police Force were withdrawn from their details. But the Nepal Army does not have to follow such rules, and the practice of army personnel serving high-ranking active-duty and retired military personnel remains. Conditions here are dire enough that many active duty officers in Nepal’s military and police forces have chosen to leave their jobs to serve in the Russian Army to fight in the Ukraine war. The hierarchical culture and chain of command of politics, bureaucracy, law enforcement and military has also meant that abuse and mistreatment of subordinates is rife in Nepal’s security forces. “Feudalism is alive and well within our security institutions,” says Gurung. “When soldiers and security forces who swore to protect and serve the nation are made to be at the beck and call of politicians and bureaucrats, it is easy to understand why they are disillusioned with their jobs and why they choose to quit and find jobs abroad.”

Job insecurity in security forces

Earlier this month, Nepal received Rs1.6 billion from the World Bank as part of its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/will-nepal-ever-be-paid-for-saving-trees">Forest Carbon Partnership Facility (FCPF)</a>, rewarding the country for increasing its carbon sink capacity. Nepal is the first in South Asia to benefit from this facility, and it is specifically to recompense the country for increasing forest cover in 13 Tarai districts between 2018-2024. “We are also trying to get another Rs13 billion from the facility while also preparing for free market-based carbon trading in the international market,” says Nabaraj Pudasaini of the REDD (Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation in Developing Countries) Implementation Centre. Big emitters of greenhouse gases are under pressure to reduce their carbon emissions, and many have signed agreements to do so by investing in decarbonisation projects in developing countries. Countries that emit more than a specified amount of carbon would be able to buy emission rights from countries that emit less. Nepal is internationally known for its community forestry program which has been largely credited for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous">increasing tree cover to over 45%</a> in less than three decades. But this achievement had not been adequately recognised or rewarded internationally before. Forests, especially in the tropics, absorb and store large amounts of carbon while releasing oxygen in a process known as photosynthesis. <a href="https://www.fao.org/forest-resources-assessment/en/">Preventing deforestation</a> and increasing canopy cover is considered a much more achievable goal than reducing emission in the scale necessary to limit global average temperature to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. COP11 in Montreal in 2005 first proposed reducing carbon emissions by improving forest quality by halting degradation. By 2015, a new mechanism of financial assistance was created to help less developed countries with sustainable management of forests <a href="https://www.un-redd.org/">(called REDD+)</a>. Under this new mechanism, countries receive aid based on their efforts to prevent forest degradation and increase carbon sink, and in 2021 the World Bank was entrusted with implementing it. Nepal’s FCPF receipt this month was calculated on the basis of 2.4 million tons of carbon stored at a rate of $5 per ton. In the second phase, Nepal will receive more than Rs4 billion within the next year for storing an additional 7 million tons of carbon. Eighty per cent of this amount obtained from carbon trading needs to be spent on local beneficiaries and indigenous communities.&nbsp; But carbon trading is not easy, Nepal needs to prove that protected forests will not be destroyed in future.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241121091132_c8a381c9a95aa86fec558951650d97bb87914741f01766982ba2b086af001f16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241121091132_c8a381c9a95aa86fec558951650d97bb87914741f01766982ba2b086af001f16" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="Greenbacks for greenery NT "> <figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Explains carbon trading expert Yugan Manandhar. “Forests should be handed over to the community and shown that they are managed sustainably. Proving this will be particularly challenging; forest encroachment and degradation is rife in the Tarai.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepal-is-going-up-in-smoke">Deliberate forest fires</a> have also added to the challenge because they increase carbon emissions and reduce the sink capacity of forests. The basis for the amount that Nepal received was set five years ago by calculating the carbon reserves of forests in the 13 Tarai districts. In the meantime, sustainable forest management, tree plantation, forest destruction and erosion control were prioritised to increase carbon reserves in those forests. Nepal is signing another carbon trading agreement during the ongoing Baku climate conference. The <a href="https://www.leafcoalition.org/">Lowering Emissions by Accelerating Forest finance (LEAF Coalition) </a>proposes to sell the carbon stored in the forests of Bagmati, Gandaki and Lumbini provinces. For this, Nepal signed the letter of intent three years ago at COP26 in Glasgow. The target is to store 70 million tons of carbon in 32 million hectares of forest in the three provinces per which Nepal will receive Rs13 billion in four years at $10 per ton with provisions to increase the rate if various conditions are met. However, the agreement in itself doesn’t guarantee the amount. According to the targets set by Nepal, forest degradation should be stopped and carbon reserves increased by protecting tree cover. Preparations are also underway for clean air carbon trade because it has offset fossil fuel use by introducing 30,000 electric vehicles. Nepal has been selected for the first round to receive $40 million within one and a half years through the Clean Air System of the World Bank. Given that most of Nepal’s energy mix is from biomass, replacing them with electric stoves can significantly improve health by reducing indoor pollution as well as strengthen the country’s capacity for carbon trade. “Nepal's goal now is to sell carbon in the free market where carbon credits are bought and sold based on supply and demand in an open and transparent manner,” adds Pudasaini of the REDD Implementation Centre. “Nepal can now set its own price and bargain with interested buyer countries and organisations.” Lately, India has been discussing setting up a carbon market. Nepal has exported Rs12.72 billion worth of electricity to India so far this fiscal year, which can be traded under Nepal’s carbon market. “Carbon trading can create significant economic benefits for Nepal, which will help reinvest in development and environmental protection projects,” says Manandhar. “But we must prioritise sustainable management of forests, cutting older trees and allowing regrowth as well as promoting electric stoves and electric vehicles.”

caste-based-discrimination