I can’t really claim I had a well-developed political understanding at the age of six years when the Emergency was imposed by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in 1975. But I do have a visceral political memory of the times, the black cloud of suffocation as well as the spirit of defiance. That I should have such a clear recollection of the politics of the times is entirely due to the way politics was always central to our family.&nbsp; If the freedom struggle politicised our family, future generations carried that understanding into post-colonial authoritarianisms. The centrality of politics to our worldview was sharpened by my mother’s work as a journalist and seeped into everyday life.&nbsp; Conversation at home was peppered with references to political developments, and my grandmother, who had been incarcerated by the British for her part in the freedom struggle (by then both her parents were in jail), was particularly pithy in her scathing comments on the Prime Minister – ‘Mrs G’, as she was known in our house – and her many political depredations.&nbsp; But the memory of the days of the Emergency owes its sharpness to the very specific workplace my mother was then employed in – the Indian Express – a newspaper that was front and centre in the media resistance against the Emergency.&nbsp; As the child of a single parent, I spent vast amounts of time in the Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg office of the newspaper, travelling with my mother, Modhumita Mojumdar, each morning during holidays. Entire school vacations were spent in her shared office space, my presence tolerated with benign affection by her colleagues.&nbsp; In the way that children imbibe and have an astute understanding of their milieu, instinctual rather than intellectual, I understood the Emergency and had a clearly felt sense of its injustice. It was that tangible sense that flooded me when I walked into the exhibition of cartoons marking the birth centenary of the Indian Express’s cartoonist of those times – Abu Abraham. A sense of politics, but also oppositional journalism, tied in with the smell of newsprint, ink, and the long-lost letterpress.&nbsp; The centenary exhibition that is travelling, opened at the India International Centre in Delhi on 6 November, following its inauguration by another stalwart dissenter, historian Romila Thapar. The 1975 Emergency remains a pivotal moment in India’s post-colonial history, the apex of an elected leader’s growing authoritarianism, a dark chapter against which Indians would compare all future excesses.&nbsp; It exacted a terrible price from many, but was also a time of preferment for those who became collaborators, their competitive jousting for new ways to express loyalty echoing eerily in these times.&nbsp; This stark divide – between those who fell in line and those who resisted – was perhaps seen most clearly in the sphere of journalism, the nature of the medium making it public and visible.&nbsp; In a phrase that would continue to haunt Indian journalism, LK Advani – the then president of the Bharatiya Jana Sangh – would tell journalists, “You were asked only to bend, but you crawled.”&nbsp; The verdict, however, was not completely fair. Many journalists were in jail, and for the thousands of column inches of print that served as propaganda – print being the only non-government media at that time – there were also those who used every inch of uncensored space to report on reality and published blank newspaper pages and columns to protest against censorship.&nbsp; Amongst the foremost of them was The Indian Express – and the biting satire of its cartoonist Abu Abraham is a significant part of that storied history.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151128_caad280f-1570-4fe3-8e77-a5fb9272a615.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241110151128_caad280f-1570-4fe3-8e77-a5fb9272a615" data-rendition-name="original" width="3060" height="4080" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Indian emergency"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151128_30f2b8e285cb83f5a9c4d65d2a717745b0cf64d54325ed0dad421f5b6c627b92.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241110151128_30f2b8e285cb83f5a9c4d65d2a717745b0cf64d54325ed0dad421f5b6c627b92" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on the Indian Energency"> </figure>  Whatever the elisions at that time, the Emergency is no longer an unexamined period in India’s political course. Dozens of books, hundreds of articles, research papers, and academic tomes have mapped every aspect of its political trajectory. It has been captured in theatre plays, films, and music, and in the current political climate, it has evolved into a veritable cottage industry of its own.&nbsp; But in the line drawings of Abu – in an exhibition curated by the cartoonist’s daughters to mark his centenary – we are brought close to the moment with an immediacy that is more than memory. In the yellowing sheen of newsprint, the imprints of the stamp of the censor, there is a tangible recall of those days, tactile and palpable, and the sharp sense of the fierce intellectual community of opposition that stood against the depredations on our democratic fabric.&nbsp; Interestingly, Abu’s role as a biting satirist of the Emergency was not inevitable in the early years of his career. The cartoonist’s candid comments about his own life – he also wrote regularly, if not prolifically – have been excerpted as part of the exhibition and allow us to track the course of his political journey.&nbsp; Born in 1924 in Alappuzha in Kerala, Abu’s student years spanned the last decades of the British Raj in the Kingdom of Travancore. Though influenced by the exhilaration of the Independence struggle, Abu is candid about not being an active participant. When he joined the nationalist Bombay Chronicle in 1946, it was not missionary zeal but the fascination of print, he later admitted, that was his impetus.&nbsp; We have cause to be thankful for this lifelong fascination – not only because it led to the production of a brilliant oeuvre spanning more than half a century – but because Abu preserved print, original copies of hundreds of his cartoons and drafts, a substantive part of which still remains, in archives and with his family. &nbsp; While Abu is best known here in India for his trenchant cartoons on Indian politics, especially the Emergency, a substantive part of his early career was with British papers – a decade with the Observer and three years with the Guardian. His cartoons during this time cover not just British politics but consequential global events, such as the Eichmann trial in Jerusalem. He would later return to travel through Palestinian refugee camps.&nbsp; If it was unusual for a brown man to become the first political cartoonist for an established British paper, there was more to come in Abu’s career that was unusual.&nbsp; For one, ‘Abu’ was not the name Attupurathu Mathew Abraham signed his first cartoons with. The name Abu – by which he was known for most of his working life – was coined because David Astor of the Observer, felt ‘Abraham’ as he used to sign his cartoons would be “taken as a Jew and all my cartoons would take on a slant for no reason, and I wasn’t even Jewish”, wrote Abu. What was more, the Middle East was beginning to boil at that time, with Nasser dominating the scene.&nbsp; The boiling Middle East may have also been responsible for ending Abu’s career in British journalism, according to Michael Foote, who is <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/2002/dec/07/guardianobituaries.india" target="_blank">quoted</a> in the Guardian’s obituary: “Some years later, as I recall, it was an argument about the worldwide racist disease which persuaded him to return to his native India. A cartoon that he did for us on the subject of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict had been denounced by some of our readers as racist. Never was the slander more ill-judged.” Abu returned for good to India in 1969 to join the Indian Express at a time that would turn out to be a defining moment in Indian history – with the split in the Congress party.&nbsp; At a discussion to mark the exhibition at the Bangalore International Centre in August, historian Janaki Nair, who has annotated an accompanying booklet on the exhibition, emphasised the significance of the Lal Bagh Congress session of 1969, which led to the expulsion of Indira Gandhi from the party and the eventual split.&nbsp; Explaining the impact of the moment on Indian journalism, journalist and author AS Panneerselvan said it marked the end of a post-colonial period during which there was a “consensus on self-censorship in the interests of nation-building”. The Lal Bagh Congress broke that compact, and the role of the cartoonist was key, he said, to opening up the space for criticism by journalists. A self-declared Nehruvian, Abu’s cartoons of 1969 and for some years thereafter reveal his sympathy with Nehru’s daughter, seen then – in one of Indian politics’ gargantuan mistakes – as a powerless marionette.&nbsp; As Indira Gandhi marched towards her position as the unchallenged supremo, Abu’s sympathies remained – for the time being – with her. “In Abu’s cartoons, the dynamism of Centre-State relations and the challenges posed by regional powers and politics is examined largely from a Union Government perspective,” points out Nair in the annotated booklet.&nbsp; But while Abu’s fluid lines and sharp caricatures capture the politics, characters, and vividness of the moment, viewing the cartoons decades later with the luxury of space and time gives us a birds’ eye view of the themes running through the political preoccupations of those times.&nbsp; The cartoons capture the resistance to growing centralisation of power, contentious centre-state relations, federalism, Assam and the citizenship issue, the challenge to the constitution from authoritarianism, and the role of caste politics in elections. The enduring power of these themes in our current times is striking as we view the cartoons now.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151136_14d6928a4cdf9c4ae03b1b525c3678d0cc14fd19b20dd0d2eb34bac25ecae2f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241110151136_14d6928a4cdf9c4ae03b1b525c3678d0cc14fd19b20dd0d2eb34bac25ecae2f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on federalism"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151132_e866a9bef9f3940ca49e6d9a70f5a84eeaf570b1a618da3033c8c4e998f36e40.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241110151132_e866a9bef9f3940ca49e6d9a70f5a84eeaf570b1a618da3033c8c4e998f36e40" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Assam citizenship"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151132_2612015b8def3484168f75d6983b926b35cf9ff411c326140553fcc173b51a16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241110151132_2612015b8def3484168f75d6983b926b35cf9ff411c326140553fcc173b51a16" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Indian elections"> </figure>  Abu’s cartoons also captured the continuities in global politics – IMF pressure, the global arms trade, and issues which have acquired added or more urgent layers of meaning now – the Israel-Palestine conflict, the cold war in Afghanistan, and the struggle for the creation of Bangladesh.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151136_29af7fcfbb5ba14ec9ebac61d345d752a7d3c76432226a2befd4af4841bf3beb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241110151136_29af7fcfbb5ba14ec9ebac61d345d752a7d3c76432226a2befd4af4841bf3beb" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on IMF and India"> </figure>  In India, whatever sympathy Abu may have had for Indira Gandhi (he was nominated to the Rajya Sabha in 1972) – appears shredded after the imposition of the Emergency. The biting satire of his cartoons – those which were censored and those which were not – would be a critical part of the reputation of the Indian Express for standing up to power during that period.&nbsp; The curators of the exhibition – his daughters Ayisha and Janaki Abraham – have, astoundingly, been able to showcase the original cartoons, which had to be submitted for pre-censorship to the government, and the drafts, stamped, signed, and marked for approval, or “NOT TO BE PUBLISHED”.&nbsp; Interestingly, six months into the Emergency, the Censor allowed the Indian Express to publish a cartoon that depicted the then President Fakruddin Ali Ahmed signing an ordinance in his bathtub, the many layers of servility dove-tailing neatly into the allusion of the emperor with no clothes. But it balked at a rather more innocuous cartoon that punned: “Don’t you think we’ve got a lovely censor of humour”, and, in a clear exhibition of its own lack of humour, marked it “NOT TO BE PUBLISHED”.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151136_7d40d3918d78374e7ec8edbe15f342092d83614b8d669a7b28444c9e239d1850.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241110151136_7d40d3918d78374e7ec8edbe15f342092d83614b8d669a7b28444c9e239d1850" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Fakkrudin Ali"> </figure>  While Abu’s daughters deserve kudos for putting together this exhibition using their resources, the legacy of Abu Abraham needs far wider support, including for the very real challenge of preserving brittle paper that records a rich seam of our nation’s history. If the visceral nature of the material – the paper, the notations that relate to the size, display, and even the white-out used to correct the cartoons – give us a physical sense of the cartooning process and the newsroom of those times, then the sharp satire is a pungent intellectual insight.&nbsp; Unlike text or image that tells a story to a recipient audience, a cartoon, at its sharpest, is a riddle, forcing the viewer’s engagement to puzzle out what is being said and what the joke is. By making the viewer complicit and forcing us to think, it changes the relationship of viewing from one of passive spoon-feeding to a political act.&nbsp; Aunohita Mojumdar is a journalist who has lived and worked in India, Afghanistan, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. She is the former editor of Himal Southasian and currently lives in Bengaluru. Republished with permission from Newslaundry. Read the <a href="https://www.newslaundry.com/2024/11/06/from-satire-to-defiance-the-political-power-of-abu-abrahams-cartoons">original here</a>.&nbsp;

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

From satire to defiance: The political power of Abu Abraham’s cartoons

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111120/637216cd9c7e80680e0ba9b3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1100" height="1269"/><figcaption>Illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>The past two years have accelerated the trends already buffeting the media industry pre-Covid: migration of readers and advertisers from legacy to digital media, entertainment replacing information, a losing battle against fake content, and so on.Kitty videos went viral even as the virus shut society down. Social media became the new mass media.Till three years ago in Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3t8DpuKSKgqz-bOvPRD1R3">‘Facebook’ was synonymous with ‘Internet’</a>. But in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3CLJ3__F60u9ijYJAn_Bsz">2019 YouTube users overtook Facebook</a>, and now a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/huge-uptick-in-tiktok-during-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">TikTok takeover</a> makes dance routines on the platform consume nearly a quarter of the country’s bandwidth.The power and reach of global digital platforms and online portals have transformed the way people stay informed, while <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-message-is-the-medium-2/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-message-is-the-medium-2/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3_LES6c-wOoyW5ET4vUl3F">some prefer to be deliberately disinformed</a>. Since digital content can be manipulated and multiplied, it is easier for populism to replace pluralism.As algorithms radicalise voters and confine them to echo chambers, elected demagogues across the world threaten democracies, and despots get voted to power.The print media in Nepal went fully digital during the 2020 lockdowns, and even though revenue plummeted, readership hit the roof. Newspapers like this one resumed print editions and reclaimed <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/readers-editorial,1059" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/readers-editorial,1059&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3UUu5VRVBiBEucIhJFjFPt">loyal hardcopy readers</a>, but there are many times more users online now for multimedia content. The economics of the media business has also changed, possibly forever.Nepal’s economy was just beginning to recover from the downturn caused by the pandemic when <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ukraine-crisis-hits-nepal-economy-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war in Ukraine</a> scored another direct hit on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-geopolitics-of-food/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">fuel and food prices</a> worsening hard currency reserves and the country’s balance of payments.New restrictions on bank loans and imports have hit businesses hard, and this has had a direct impact on advertising -- the main source of revenue for media companies.Just when its role in safeguarding democracy and press freedom has become more vital than ever before, journalism struggles to survive and retain its relevance. This ends up <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/censuring-censorship/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">undermining the independent check and balance role</a> of the fourth estate in defending democracy.Nepal’s media practitioners need to be more vigilant than ever -- especially at a time when we see the largest, oldest and most vibrant democracies in the region and around the world being dismantled by leaders who have co-opted democratic institutions to propel themselves to power and remain there.All this may look pretty discouraging for those who believe in an open society, and value tolerance, inclusiveness, and the freedom to express themselves. But the Internet has always been a double-edged sword, like all other technologies that preceded it.Fake news, disinformation and gossip did not begin with the social web. They are as old as the written word itself. Elon Musk calls Twitter the global ‘town square’, but town squares through history have also been violent places – unleashing lynch mobs, witch hunts, burnings at the stake and public hangings.There are equivalents of early newspapers inciting pogroms in Russia and Germany, later of radio in Rwanda sparking genocide. The only difference with online posts is their instantaneous amplification and global reach. And effect of this can be fast and brutal, as seen by the calls for mass killings of the Rohingya in Facebook posts, and lynchings in India triggered by WhatsApp groups.Cancel culture, trolling and cyber-lynching by bot armies also dampen voices calling for moderation, science-based decision making, and acceptance of diversity.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/dont-act-on-the-act/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Attempts to regulate Internet content</a> collide head on with accepted norms of free speech. Where does one draw the line? It might first be important to distinguish between ‘journalism’ broadly defined on the one hand, and on the other, posts inciting violence or troll factories manufacturing hate on assembly lines.These and other issues will be the subject of the day-long ‘Connectivity in the Age of Disinformation’ conference at the Himal Media Mela on 7 May, marking Himalmedia’s own 25th anniversary year. Media practitioners will be taking stock of the media’s role in these changed circumstances.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-print-is-exaggerated/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">death of print media is exaggerated</a>. There is still power in print because the powerful read it. A survey in 2020 also showed that most Nepalis were not reading print media because <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3CLJ3__F60u9ijYJAn_Bsz">roadside shops had stopped stocking newspapers</a> and magazines.That survey by <a href="https://www.sharecast.org.np/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.sharecast.org.np/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0zGgEqvlW8X0_WPVzK5j2c">Sharecast Initiative Nepal</a> revealed 96% of Nepalis had mobile phones, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3CLJ3__F60u9ijYJAn_Bsz">showed that</a> 94% of those following the mainstream press are still reading the paper newspaper because they found it more ‘trustworthy’. Although respondents said they used social media platforms, more than 90% said they did not believe everything in it.And that is the niche that Nepal’s mainstream press now need to fill: to be the credible source of news, present verified facts, correct online falsehoods, as well as to explain, interpret and analyse events and trends.Gazing into the future, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-new-reality-of-nepals-virtual-celebrities/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-new-reality-of-nepals-virtual-celebrities/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1651624304899000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2KtE3bnQpem6LSBL3c-go4">social media</a> platforms will be useful dissemination tools, social media platforms will be even more entertainment-driven, and it will be the papers and their digital editions with credibility and exclusive content that will stay afloat.

Internet in everything

<figure><img width="1776" height="1149" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/6372094f9c7e80680e0b5534jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Gyan, Buddhisara B.K., parents of two laboureres killed in Kotbada airport, Kalikot.</figcaption></figure>It was 8 December 2002, and my documentary जोगीमाराका ज्युँदाहरु (The Living of Jogimara) was being screened at the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival (KIMFF 2002). The hall at the Russian Cultural Centre in Kathmandu was packed, and the audience had overflowed into the aisles. As director, I should have been sitting on the front row. But I had another job that day: to stand next to the projectionist and at exactly 10 minutes 47 seconds, mute the film for 20 seconds. As directed by the military censors, this was to prevent the audience from hearing the narration: ‘A few days after <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6681#.YgimpChBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Mangalsen attack</a>, the army arrived at the airfield and opened fire. Thirty-five people were shot dead. Among them were two children, labourers from other parts of Nepal, including 17 young men from Jogimara.’ As a film-maker I had never been trained to mute the sound track during a public screening. My eyes were glued not on the screen but on the digital time counter on the VHS player.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tA34vvNRsSgA year earlier, the Maoists had broken off peace talks and conducted simultaneous raids on army bases across the country. The government declared an emergency, and for the first time mobilised the Royal Nepal Army against the Maoists. Till then it was the police that was fighting the rebels.Today, we know from many countries that crackdowns on the free press in elected democracies can be more draconian than in authoritarian regimes. Twenty years ago, I faced proof of it in that dark auditorium. I was then with <a href="https://cijnepal.org.np" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal (CIJ)</a>. Freed from day-to-day journalism, the job allowed me to look at the conflict in perspective, put the daily death tolls into context, and examine the human side of the war, and its impact on ordinary people.I was following the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13920#.YgiiHChBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kotbada massacre in Kalikot</a>. News reports were sketchy and contradictory. State media said ‘many terrorists’ had been killed at the under-construction airfield. Another news item buried in the inside pages said that among the ‘terrorists’ were 17 men from <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15172#.YgiiTShBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jogimara in Dhading district</a>. An RSS report quoted MPs Prem Bahadur Singh from Kalikot and Rajendra Pandey from Dhading as informing the house that the dead were labourers constructing the airfield. <figure><img width="1486" height="1036" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209539c7e80680e0b5535jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>My <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/should-journalists-job-extend-beyond-coverage,1881" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">journalist antennae</a> perked up. I heard from reporter Bhupraj Khadka that a family in Jogimara had conducted a funeral of one of the dead even though it had not received his body from the Army.As a film-maker, I felt this could be a way to portray the cruelty and senselessness of war. But there was an insurgency going on, and filming would be difficult and costly. I approached renowned documentary maker Dhruba Basnet, who had made the film रक्ताम्मे गराहरू (Blood-soaked Terraces) and we had worked together in many parts of Nepal.Rajendra Dahal, editor at Himal Khabarpatrika, offered to publish the story. In Jogimara, I met 15 of the 17 families who had lost their men in a massacre 500km at the other end of Nepal in Kotbada. The story came out in Himal, and Nepali Times <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5700#.Ygih3yhBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">translated it in the issue #106</a> of 9-15 August 2002 (screenshots, below). This was a rare exposé of a conflict-era crime.We started working on the video footage, and were convinced it would be an important documentation of the tragedy. We had to do it on a shoe-string budget, and the film finally premiered at KIMFF 2002.There was pin-drop silence during the screening. From time to time, I could hear sobbing in the dark. But I had to concentrate on the approaching 10:47 on the VHS digital clock. At exactly 47 seconds, projectionist Sudarshan Karki muted the sound. The audience had been quiet till then, but I heard murmurs: “They’re censoring.” I had to have a ready answer in the remaining 32 minutes of the film, because the viewers were sure to have questions afterwards. <img width="1750" height="2448" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209569c7e80680e0b5536jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="2446" height="1096" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209599c7e80680e0b5537jpeg.jpg" alt="">King Gyanendra had just <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5416#.YgikPShBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sacked elected Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba two months prior</a>, and had appointed Lokendra Bahadur Chand as prime minister. The emergency had been lifted, but now the palace and army were in charge.The Royal Nepal Army had got the district administration and Police Inspector Sukhdev Neupane of Kamal Pokhari station to stop the screening. Neupane called to say his bosses wanted to see the film. I replied that it was shot in a new format, and it would take time to convert. He said the police had state-of-the-art equipment in its tv studio and that wouldn’t be a problem.The police were not just trying to stop my film, but were putting pressure on KIMFF organisers Basanta Thapa and Kanak Mani Dixit to cancel the entire festival. They finally agreed on a compromise: show the film, but mute the parts the military found objectionable.When the screening started, I noticed soldiers in camouflage fatigues enter the hall. They had walkie talkies. When the film ended, there was stunned silence, then applause. The lights went up. I strode to the stage to answer audience questions, and the inevitable one: “Why was the film muted in the middle?”I had prepared my answer, but I saw the soldiers glaring at me from offstage. “The system was working, but it went off for a while,” I said, but could not muster the courage for the rest of my prepared answer: “But don’t ask me whether it was the sound system that was broken, or the country’s system.”I stepped off the stage, telling myself that when confronted with a formidable enemy, it is foolish to wage frontal warfare. It is better to outflank the adversary and go into insurgency mode. The censors had forced me to become a guerrilla film-maker. The 38-minute documentary went on to be a hit, with two additional screenings during the festival. Many wept openly. Basanta Thapa wrote later in Himal: “By trying to censor the film, have we been deprived even of the right to cry for our own country?” After KIMFF 2002, the Ministry of Communications imposed a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4413#.YgikvChBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">censorship rule on all film festival screenings</a>. Since then, there have been many governments that have come and gone in Nepal. But the state has not been able to resist its temptation from time to time to curb the freedom of expression. Mohan Mainali is an author and documentary film-maker.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/6372095c9c7e80680e0b5538jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="145" height="189">

Forbidden to remember the Kotbada massacre

<img width="1070" height="830" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40e99c7e80680e04a64ajpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Whether Nepal was ruled by a monarchy-military dictatorship, an elected coalition or a communist regime, its leaders have often tried and ultimately failed to suppress the press.After the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1175#.XNvLDOUza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">royal-military coup of 1 February 2005</a>, the Royal Nepal Army invaded newsrooms. At Nepali Times, two soldiers in military fatigues peered at the monitor, forcing the designer to expunge columns and cartoons. Kathmandu-based papers, including this one, went to press with white holes — so readers got the message that the edition had been censored. We wrote <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1222#.XNvLI-Uza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">metaphorical editorials</a> comparing democracy to trees, and played cat-and-mouse with the authorities. Radio stations were told to broadcast only music, no news or current affairs. Some news readers got so fed up they started singing the news, broadcasting bulletins in duets. In the districts, radio stations were closed down, journalists jailed, some tortured and forced into solitary confinement for a year.After the ceasefire and the 2008 elections, in which the Maoist party won a landslide, many breathed a sigh of relief. The war was over, and it looked like our freedoms had been restored. We were mistaken. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15506#.XNu7ZOUza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The ruling Communists</a> retaliated against critical content in the media <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15507#.XNu7EeUza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">throughout 2008-9</a> by burning newspaper distribution vans, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15513#.XNu7OOUza71">instigating militant unions</a> or <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">vandalising and assaulting journalists in their newsrooms</a>.Ever since the united Nepal Communist Party came to power, it has been taking incremental steps to gag the media. Not with a sudden, swift crackdown but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">softly, in instalments</a>. Like frogs in a pot of water above a fire, we are not supposed to notice that the water is starting to boil until it is too late. Just a short recap: <ul><li>In August 2018, Nepal’s new Penal Code criminalised photography (Section 295), slapped on heavy fines and jail terms for recording conversations (Section 293) and announced strict punishment for sending, receiving or using online data (Section 298). It banned ridiculing of government officials by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/press-freedom-must-be-defended-by-its-maximum-application/">Photoshop-ing</a> their images.   </li><li>A bill in Parliament sought to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/suppressed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">prohibit journalists from publishing personal information of public officials</a>, ostensibly to protect their privacy.</li><li>Editors were summoned to the Press Council for intimidating interrogations.</li><li>Three journalists in the English language service of the state news agency RSS are being investigated for putting out a story that the Dalai Lama was out of hospital in New Delhi. Their crime: transmitting the item while President Bidya Devi Bhandari was on a visit to Beijing.</li><li>Last week, the Ministry of Communication and Information Technology slipped a draconian Media Council Bill into Parliament with excessive secrecy. It stipulates <a href="https://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/news/2019-05-13/the-media-council-bill-further-endangers-press-freedom.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">hefty fines on journalists</a>.</li></ul>Taken together, this is a creeping coup. Nepal seems to be following the roadmap of elected despots worldwide who are cracking down on the free press. Our leaders appear to have got hold of the manual from the one-party states they have been visiting of late.The <a href="https://www.onlinekhabar.com/2019/05/765299?utm_source=Facebook&amp;utm_medium=TwitterPost" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Media Council Bill</a> was introduced in Parliament last week without stakeholder consultation as is customary, and <a href="https://www.kantipurdaily.com/opinion/2019/05/12/155762804094661037.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">smacks of ill intention</a>. Members of the Council can now be appointed or sacked at will by the Ministry of Communication. Publishers, editors or reporters can be fined up to Rs1 million for tarnishing someone’s reputation.  To be sure, sections of Nepal’s media can also be  faulted for yellow journalism, character assassination, extortion, corruption and politically-sponsored content. The media cannot be an island of integrity when the nation is afflicted by a pandemic of graft.  Members of the media-industrial complex have at times behaved like power brokers.Respondents in a recent <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/survey-is-wakeup-call-for-nepal-government/">nationwide public opinion poll</a> gave low marks to the media: 57% said they did not trust journalists much. The outrage over a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3l7vEIvWxU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">live studio interview</a> during which Deputy Prime Minister Upendra Yadav <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/the-minister-and-the-anchor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">walked out on the anchor</a> showed that the public sees journalists as getting too big for their boots.One reason the media could have fallen in the public’s esteem is that most citizens do not make a distinction between the mainstream press and unfiltered content on social media. But the government cannot use this as an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/long-shadows/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">excuse to gag the media</a>. Press freedom is a vital part of the check and balance in a democracy, and the Communist government must realise that one day when it is back in the opposition it will need the very press that it is trying to undermine now.But if it goes ahead and passes the Media Council Bill, this may be the last time we will be free to say in this space why it goes against the letter and spirit of our Constitution.10 years ago this weekNepali Times <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/451" target="_blank" rel="noopener">edition #451</a> of 15- 21 May 2009 had an <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15941#.XN1DnBQzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">editorial titled ‘There they go again’</a> that could have been written about current Nepali politics. Excerpt:Countries in fragile political transition have to be governed differently than stable democracies. Transitional politics require a unity of purpose. It calls for political parties to never lose sight of the goal: preserving the peace, writing the Constitution and keeping citizens content.Unfortunately, consensus has become the first casualty in the conflict of interest between the Maoists and the rest. Chairman Dahal erroneously thought that being the biggest party in the CA gave him the right to decide things on his own. The Maoists are now following the example that the NC set. The controversy over unilateral dismissal and subsequent reinstatement of the army chief was a consequence rather than cause of the crisis of confidence between the main political parties.Our politicians, too, have forgotten why they got the people’s mandate. It wasn’t to bicker endlessly in Kathmandu over power.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/451"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40ec9c7e80680e04a64bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="682" height="1084"></a>

A creeping coup

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3faa9c7e80680e04a5dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>SUP-PRESS: Journalists taking part in a rally on Tuesday ahead of World Press Freedom Day on 3 May were stopped by barricades and riot police outside Parliament in Kathmandu. Pic: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption></figure>The year since the Nepal Communist Party government came to power has seen a creeping squeeze on the media space, both on the Internet and in the mainstream press. The Civil and Criminal Codes first criminalised photos and cartoons that ridiculed politicians and then put official documents out of bounds for media.Journalists have been arrested and ordinary citizens, including a singer, have been trolled and threatened for social media posts. Reporters without Borders ranked Nepal at 106 among 180 countries on its Press Freedom Index 2019, a six-point drop from last year.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fad9c7e80680e04a5dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="364" height="204">The Federation of Nepalese Journalists (FNJ) says there were 58 violations of media freedom by the state last year. They included attacks, threats, abuse and even the disappearance of one journalist. FNJ this week submitted a letter to the co-chair of the ruling NCP, Pushpa Kamal Dahal, as well as to opposition leader Sher Bahadur Deuba, drawing their attention to the crackdowns. The nature and number of incidents have come down from the previous year, but legal challenges have increased, says FNJ general secretary Ramesh Bista.“Journalists are being arrested through laws not designed for the media, but the Electronic Transaction Act, which usually applies to banking,” says Bista. “The government is preparing a draft for online content and an umbrella law for all media that includes provisions which could affect journalists in their work. We are very concerned about the negative impact this will have on the constitutionally-guaranteed freedom of expression in Nepal.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gagging the press in installments</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/press-freedom-must-be-defended-by-its-maximum-application/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Press freedom must be defended by its maximum application</a>, Shiva GauleHistorically, Nepal has been a safe country for journalists since the end of the absolute monarchy, although there was a period in 2016 when reporters and editors were silenced. On paper, Nepal has some of the most progressive laws on press freedom, and is one of the few countries where the right to information is also applicable to politicians. However, these laws have been superseded by potentially draconian provisions that could allow the state to deny these rights.“The Criminal Code of 2017 has criminalised the violation of privacy and prohibits investigating records and documents, which directly hampers the work of journalists. Individual privacy should be protected, but the law should not be applicable to public figures,” says Namrata Sharma, Chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism, Nepal. “The Constitution prohibits acts or speech against national interest and sovereignty, and that can be used against journalists, which is a matter of great concern.”Activists at a rally a few days ahead of World Press Freedom Day on 3 May said the ruling NCP’s attitude towards the media has been antagonistic. Minister of Communication and Information Technology Gokul Baskota has publicly derided media criticism of the government. A person who posted an unflattering, photo-shopped image of the prime minister online was arrested, singer Pashupati Sharma was forced to delete a music video on YouTube that ridiculed corruption, and Pokhara reporter Arjun Giri was arrested over a defamation complaint under the cybercrime law.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/suppressed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Suppressed</a>, Om Astha Rai<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Creeping control over the press in Nepal</a>, Ajay Pradhan

Long shadows

<figure><img width="1400" height="1031" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904bc9c7e80680e037d3djpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>UNDERPASS: It looks like you forgot that there is now a new law that forbids disclosure of the private information of public officials. Vatsyayan in Kantipur, 25 August</figcaption></figure>It has only been two weeks since Nepal’s new Penal Code criminalised photography (Section 295), slapped heavy fines and jail terms for recording conversations (Section 293), and announced strict punishment for sending, receiving or using online data (Section 298). Another privacy-related bill in Parliament will prohibit people from publishing personal information of public officials. But it has already had a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/suppressed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chilling effect across the Nepali media</a>.A person who ridiculed the prime minister on Facebook was tracked down and arrested for photo-manipulating the prime minister's photo, which violates Section 295 of the Code. Editors of Nagarik, Annapurna Post and Kantipur were summoned to the Press Council for interrogation.Photojournalist Usha Titikshu was taking a photo of a damaged CCTV camera at an airport recently, when she was stopped. “Don’t you know the new rules about not taking photos?” she was warned.If enacted earlier, the new laws would have forced editors to spike their recent investigative reports on the Chief Justice’s doctored certificates, photos showing collusion between top politicians and medical college owners, and stories of corruption in high places.The Federation of Nepalese Journalists last week issued its Godavari Declaration demanding that the provisions be immediately rescinded. The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), Reporters without Borders (RSF) and others <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/amend-criminal-code-rsf/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">all condemned the move</a>, demanding that Nepal adhere to the international standards and principles of freedom of expression.Although the constitution guarantees press freedom as an inviolable right, the laws try to enforce constitutional provisions protecting a citizen’s right to privacy more strictly, even extending it to public figures.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/strongman-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Strongman rule</a>, Om Astha RaiPress adviser to the prime minister and former editor Kundan Aryal admits that a free press is important, but says the Nepali media has failed to self-regulate."Journalists do not rein themselves in, they feel free to make derogatory comments, especially about women. It is necessary to regulate the press,” he told Nepali Times. Such talk has already had a dampening effect, with editors and reporters now more wary of publishing information in the public interest. The fear is that the laws are so broadly defined and open to interpretation, anyone can be hauled over for anything.The crackdowns started coming thick and fast after the Nepal Communist Party government was elected to power in January: it consolidated the surveillance arms of the state in the PMO, proposed restrictions on advocacy through the National Integrity Policy, and banned popular areas for protest. Photographer Chandra Ale of Onlinekhabar recently faced questions when he was at Kalimati vegetable market where traders had locked up government inspectors. “A person asked me if I had permission to take photos. He followed me, and forced me to delete my pictures,” Ale relates.Photojournalist Usha Titikshu thinks there is a systematic plan to gag the media. “Threats to journalists are more common across South Asia, and we have not connected the dots to see that the same is happening in Nepal,” says Titikshu, citing the rape and deaths of journalists in India and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the arrest of noted Bangladeshi photographer Shahidul Alam</a> who is being mistreated in jail. “We see our own government moving towards similar intolerance in Nepal.”Ujjwal Acharya, South Asia coordinator of IFJ and digital media watcher says: “Today one thinks twice before posting anything on social media. By the looks of it, the government intends to curtail all kinds of expression, especially investigative journalism.”Says Nagarik editor Gunaraj Luintel who answered an unprecedented summon from the Press Council: “It was overstepping its mandate, even asking me to explain a mistake in print to the parties involved. The council is only supposed to promote ethical journalism, but it has become an arm of the government. The aim is to increase censorship in a planned way.”Narayan Wagle, editor of Kantipur, was also summoned by the Press Council for the first time in his 30-year career, and says the it has outlived its usefulness.“The practice in democratic countries is that the government does not monitor the press. The press monitors itself through a code of ethics. But in Nepal, a new law about the Press Council is in the offing, which proves the government wants to further tighten the noose around the press.”Bikas Karki, president of Photo Journalists’ Club, agrees that the government’s real intention is control: “The Constitution has become like the elephant’s tusks, it is there just for show. The laws are the real teeth inside, which bite.”Nepal has gone through censorship before. The Panchayat system banned political parties, and the royal palace strictly controlled the press. In 2005, King Gyanendra tried to take the country back to those dark days. Some say the new Code is even worse than the Panchayat.“There were threats then, but they were verbal or even unspoken,” recalls photojournalist Gopal Chitrakar, who started out at Gorkhapatra during the Pancahayat. “I don’t remember such draconian measures. These new rules are in writing, they are backed by the law. That gives them legitimacy which is more dangerous.” Kundan Aryal reassured us that the Code and laws can always be amended. But this does not convince journalists who say the laws that restrict media freedom are inherently anti-democratic, unconstitutional and remove its check-and-balance function. Laws that are broadly defined are even more dangerous, and can be a path to authoritarianism.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/varying-press-freedom-in-burma,1261" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Too little, or too much freedom</a>, Kunda Dixit <h4>The right to say the emperor is naked</h4> Satire flourishes best and is most prolific when there are controls on free speech, and Haribansa Acharya should know. He says he performed his most fulfilling and creative skits during the Panchayat.“Saying ‘17 Sal’ out loud was banned, since it was the year of King Mahendra’s coup. So we got away by saying ‘the year between 16 and 18’,” remembers Acharya. “We also called Prime Minister Surya Bahadur Thapa ‘Gham’ instead of Surya. We played cat and mouse with the censors, and it was more fun and creative. Today’s satire seems to lack that art.”Satire, in fact, seems less necessary when there is full freedom, but it is a lifeline during restrictive times. Even during the absolutist Rana and Shah reigns, the royals knew citizens needed to let off a little steam. So, they allowed one day in a year on Gai Jatra (on 27 August this year)when people had freedom to say anything. <figure><img width="1200" height="841" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904bf9c7e80680e037d3ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Culture expert Tejeswor Babu Gongah remembers Gai Jatra revelers burning an effigy of the Panchayat, an act that would have people locked up on any other day of the year."Humour is one space where you can raise issues that you cannot elsewhere, therein lies its power to question authority,” he adds.Some have noted that this year’s Gai Jatra seemed subdued, with fewer shows. On social media, there were comments that satirists had already started self-censoring because of the new Criminal Code.Satirist Manoj Gajurel, who has made a career out of lampooning kings, prime ministers and guerrilla commanders, says: “Humour has a social responsibility to carry the people’s message to authority when it refuses to listen to direct communication.”However, an elected government now wants to take away that right of Nepalis to poke fun at power. Section 306 of the Code specifically prohibits ‘satire’ and categorises it under libel, and Section 295 prohibits caricatures.“I feel a great sense of dread,” admits cartoonist Durga Baral, who went underground during the Panchayat but continued to produce cartoons under the pen-name Batsyayan, despite threats."Freedom of expression is our basic right, and if we are not free to speak out, it all gets bottled up inside.”Nepali cartoonists are pushing back. Last week, Rabin Sayami drew a savage cartoon that tore the government to shreds over its callousness in not investigating the Kanchanpur rape case, and killing a protester. It depicted a smiling Pushpa Kamal Dahal and a smug Prime Minister Oli with a smoking gun in his hand (above). The rapist holds a bloody knife, and has his back turned. Two photos of the rape victim and a dead protester hang on the wall.Sayami was warned by friends to be careful, and that he might be sent to jail. He says the cartoon was a test: “To see if we are still a democracy.”Read Also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saparu-the-festival-of-death-and-rebirt,2543" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Saparu</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11225#.W4fAI84zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Festival of death and satire</a>, Desmond DoigCode wordsWhile Nepal's journalistic community is up in the arms about the latest Criminal Code, lawyer Madhav Basnet says it is not as worrying as perceived, for the following reasons: <ul><li>The 1990 Constitution was the first one to clearly mention the right to privacy.</li><li>Nepal has a long history of laws against slander and libel, even in Jang Bahadur's Muluki Ain of 1853.</li><li>The Criminal Code does not specifically mention any profession like writers, journalists or photojournalists.</li><li>The conduct of journalists is covered by other laws related to the media, which remain unchanged. The Criminal Code mentions that it will not supersede laws relating to specific professions.</li><li>With social media, it is not just journalists and photographers who take photos, collect and disseminate information, but everyone. The Code is only prescribing limits for them.</li><li>The law, however, does apply to journalists if they are not transmitting through the mass media.</li><li>The Criminal Code is not the guarantor of freedom of expression, the Constitution is. That freedom is not without its limits, and the limits are also mentioned in the Constitution. However, nothing can take away that freedom. And if any law seems to infringe upon it, then there are Constitutional remedies.</li></ul>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-has-press-freedom-but-no-freedom-after-press/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal has press freedom, but no freedom after press</a>, Shashank Shrestha

Gagging the press in installments

India and Pakistan are twins separated at birth. Tensions between them have been at a hair trigger ever since independence and has erupted into full scale conflict at least four times in the past 80 years.
The 22 April terrorist attack in Kashmir that killed 25 Indian tourists and a Nepali citizen, threatens to escalate tension between the two nuclear-armed nations. India has squarely blamed Pakistan for the attacks, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has given his military “operational freedom” to respond. Pakistan has said it has credible intelligence of an Indian military strike and its officials have promised a “full spectrum” response — a code for a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/thinking-the-thinkable">nuclear retaliation</a>.
For Nepal, the killing of its national in the Pahalgam attack comes as another stark reminder that in conflicts from Afghanistan to Iraq, from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/how-to-agree-an-armistice-in-ukraine">Ukraine</a> to Israel, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/10-nepalis-from-one-town-fighting-in-ukraine">Nepalis are getting caught in the crossfire</a>. The last time full-scale fighting broke out between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/peacemongers-at-india-pakistan-border">India and Pakistan</a> on Kargil in 1999, at least 22<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-trial-by-fire-for-soldiers-from-nepal?%27%5C%22="> Nepalis fighting for the Indian Army</a> were killed in action.
Three of Nepal’s immediate neighbours (China, India, Pakistan) have nuclear weapons, and they do not have good relations. With China supplying weapons, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/war-and-warming">missile technology</a> and other support to Pakistan, this triangular friction could set off a regional conflagration.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43016-022-00573-0" target="_blank">Research at Rutgers University</a> has calculated that even a week-long tactical nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan would throw up so much smoke and debris into the atmosphere that it would block out the sun for years, and lead to a collapse of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grow-nourish-sustain-together-world-food-day">global food system</a>. This does not take into account the radioactive fallout that prevailing winds would blow up to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">the Himalaya</a>, contaminating glaciers that are the sources of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Asia’s main rivers</a>.
The impact of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>on High Asia was already ringing alarm bells about its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/himalayan-icecap-melting-faster-than-thought">shrinking ice cap</a> reducing the dry season flow of water downstream. Water was going to be the next strategic commodity, geopolitical experts warned, and the next wars in Asia would be over water.
That water war is already happening. India retaliated to the Kashmir attack by suspending the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/24/world/asia/india-pakistan-indus-waters-treaty.html" target="_blank">Indus Waters Treaty</a> of 1960 mediated by the World Bank that has withstood at least three wars between India and Pakistan. The treaty gives India control over the three eastern tributaries of the Indus (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beas_River" target="_blank">Beas</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravi_River" target="_blank">Ravi</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutlej" target="_blank">Sutlej</a>), while Pakistan got water from the Indus and two of its western tributaries (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_River" target="_blank">Indus</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenab_River" target="_blank">Chenab</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jhelum_River" target="_blank">Jhelum</a>.
Pakistan was assured of 70% of the annual flow, and India could use a reasonable amount of water for<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15231"> irrigation and hydropower</a>. &nbsp;Within days of its threat, India stopped water flowing down to Pakistan from the Chenab river and is reportedly preparing to do the same on the Jhelum.
The sabre-rattling has reached a crescendo. Besides threats and counter-threats there are also symbolic drills, with the Indian Air Force practicing landing on an expressway in Uttar Pradesh by its Rafale, Su-30 and Jaguar fighter jets to demonstrate ‘operational readiness’. In response Pakistan test-fired its Abdali ballistic missile that can carry a nuclear warhead and has a range of 450km.&nbsp;
The danger is that with ultra-nationalist rhetoric and the beating the war drums by both sides, India’s government and Pakistan’s military may have to ‘do something’ to appease domestic public opinion. But any tactical strike, an artillery exchange, or territorial incursion could quickly escalate out of control.
Expecting an Indian retaliation for the Pahalgam killings, Pakistan is using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/interfaith-collaboration-for-nuclear-disarmament"> nuclear deterrence </a>and warning of “catastrophic consequences”. The two neighbours came close to a nuclear exchange in 2019 after an attack on the Indian military in Kashmir, and prompt international intervention led by the United States cooled tensions.&nbsp;
This time, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trump-shock-wave-hits-nepal">Trump administration</a> is too distracted and not as engaged. Pakistan has denied it was responsible for the terrorist attack and called on Washington to stop a possible Indian retaliation. India and Pakistan have stopped overflights by each other’s airlines, and some international carriers have even stopped flying over Pakistan fearing an air war.
Washington, Beijing, the UN and the EU have all urged restraint. Iran, which has good relations with both India and Pakistan has sent its foreign minister to urge both countries not to go into a tit-for-tat war. Iran has its own nuclear flashpoint to worry about with tensions in Israel, &nbsp;Yemen and Syria.
India and Pakistan both share similar problems of joblessness, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-s-poverty-rate-is-stuck">poverty </a>and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepal-s-rhinos">environmental threats</a>. Neither side needs the threat of a senseless war, and we in the neighbourhood do not need it either.&nbsp;
Kunda Dixit
This Editorial is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

Nukes in the neighbourhood

The streets of Patan are alive this month with lavender jacaranda trees under rain-washed skies as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the chariot of Rato Matsyendranath</a> is pulled across town. This is the festival of the rain god, and inevitably the heavens opened up and pre-monsoon showers pelted the chariot as it started being pulled in Pulchok last week. Thousands of devotees, onlookers and the chariot procession organisers thronged the streets on the first day last week. The rhythmic cymbals and drums exuded a vibrant energy as the enormous four wheels turned and the chariot lurched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  The<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Red-rain-god,3141"> red rain god</a> has Hindu and Buddhist antecedents, alternatively called Bungadya and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-gravity-defying-chariot-festival"> Karunamaya</a> — reflecting Kathmandu Valley’s syncretic mixture of the two religions.&nbsp; “Bungadya is a profoundly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/marketing-the-intangible">intangible form of heritage</a>,” explains heritage expert Monalisa Maharjan. “It embodies traditional knowledge,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft"> artisanal skills passed down through generations</a>. Local communities and specific families have specified roles in being custodians of the heritage, ensuring their survival over the centuries.” There are many legends and stories about this annual tradition. Lichhavi king Narendra Dev is supposed to have brought Rato Matsyendranath from Assam to Kathmandu Valley to convince Guru Gorakhnath to lift a spell that created a two-year drought in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1503" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Matsyendranath was Gorakhnath’s mentor, and upon seeing him, the serpents were released, unleashing the rains. The chariot festival honours the return of this life-giving rain. The deity is seen as an icon for thriving agriculture, t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">he arrival of monsoon</a> showers, and the welfare of the community. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain">The reign of the god of rain</a>, Vidhu Prakash Kayastha Till this day, the Rato Matsyendranath festival is no ordinary celebration. Patan does not sleep for a month as the chariot is pulled through various neighbourhoods. It unfolds at a state level with the president (formerly the king) attending the climax of the Bhoto Jatra in Jawalakhel later this month.&nbsp; The intergenerational transmission of tradition is unique in the world, and the reason the festival is one of the most vibrant cultural expressions that thrives despite inroads of modernity. The other unique aspect is that it is a transnational festival, binding Patan with Guwahati in the Indian state of Assam.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  “Unlike Nepal, where the deity commands grandeur and devotion, many in Assam are unaware of Rato Matsyendranath,” says Khagen Sharma of Gauhati University, which convened <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-assam-connection-revived">a symposium in February in Guwahati on the rain god</a>. Attending was a delegation led by Lalitpur Mayor Chiribabu Maharjan, organisers of the festival, and builders of the chariot. After the symposium, a committee was formed to explore and revive the tradition in Assam as well. Although the team had planned to visit Nepal this month, logistical challenges delayed the trip. Still, there are plans to build a Guru Matsyendranath statue in Assam to reestablish regular worship practices in the Guwahati shrine.&nbsp; The vines used to build the chariot in Patan are sourced from the jungles of Assam. But Sharma notes that in recent years unclear regulations have blocked the official import of the vines, although they are still brought to Nepal informally. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">chariot making</a> has also had a taste of modernisation in recent times. In the past, even a single nail or piece of steel was avoided. But over time, the wooden structure, particularly the shaft between the wheels, has been replaced with bronze. When that too proved unstable, metal clamps were introduced, which have become a pragmatic compromise.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Another welcome change is the focus on safety. Builders climbing the chariot’s tower now wear harnesses and there are efforts in crowd control. The most visible change in recent years has been the involvement of Patan’s enthusiastic youth in the festival — the tradition is now passing to a new generation. Says Matsyendranath expert Vidhu Kayastha: “There is more energy, the young people in red t-shirts this year were very organised, these modern touches aren’t diluting our culture, they’re keeping it alive in new forms.” He adds, “We are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">reconnecting with our roots</a>, we have more resources, more awareness than ever before. We must not be swept away by western values that may not serve us, and in some ways, cause more harm than good. We must revive our own culture.”&nbsp;

Divine chariot

In 2025, two seemingly disconnected acts of violence shattered the illusion of stability in the region. In March, <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/16f7f947-1e96-4206-9844-891378adc683" target="_blank">militants hijacked a passenger train</a> near the Bolan Pass in Balochistan, executing soldiers in cold blood. A month later, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/22/world/asia/kashmir-terrorist-attack.html" target="_blank">gunmen in Kashmir’s</a> Pahalgam Valley massacred tourists. 
In both Islamabad and New Delhi, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/4/25/were-cursed-kashmiris-under-attack-across-india-after-pahalgam-killings" target="_blank">the reaction was reflexive:</a> condemn the violence, <a href="https://www.economist.com/asia/2025/04/22/india-and-pakistan-could-come-to-blows-over-kashmir" target="_blank">blame external enemies</a>, declare the situation contained. But South Asia’s leaders are not fighting terrorists alone. They are fighting the consequences of their own betrayals.
Across <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-26272897" target="_blank">Balochistan</a>, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-south-asia-11693674" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, <a href="https://www.crisisgroup.org/asia/south-asia/india/346-finding-way-out-festering-conflict-indias-manipur" target="_blank">Manipur</a>, and beyond, decades of <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/projects/enforced-disappearance-in-south-asia/" target="_blank">enforced disappearances</a>, broken promises, and brute militarisation have hollowed out the social contracts meant to hold these nations together. The grievances that drove rebellions from the 1940s through the 1990s – demands for dignity, recognition, and political agency – were never meaningfully addressed. They were buried beneath asphalt and propaganda, paved over by development projects and security checkpoints.
States may claim victory. But their victories are mirages, dissolving the moment anyone looks too closely. South Asia’s unfinished wars are not relics of a violent past. They are live ammunition, loaded into the future.
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/mar/24/he-only-wanted-revenge-the-bloody-insurgency-in-balochistan-gaining-lethal-momentum" target="_blank">Balochistan</a> has been at war with Pakistan for most of its modern history. Rich in gas, minerals, and coastline, the province has been plundered for decades under the language of national development. 
Projects like the <a href="https://eastasiaforum.org/2020/11/26/pakistans-three-evils-cpec-and-good-governance/" target="_blank">China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC)</a> promise progress but deliver exclusion: minerals are mined, ports are secured, but Baloch homes are raided. 
The insurgency endures not because of foreign conspiracies, as Islamabad endlessly insists, but because the Pakistani state remains incapable of seeing its <a href="https://thebalochistanpost.net/2025/01/enforced-disappearances-in-balochistan-in-december-2024-tbp-report/" target="_blank">Baloch citizens</a> as anything other than a security problem to be managed.
In <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/ranisingh/2016/07/12/kashmir-in-the-worlds-most-militarized-zone-violence-after-years-of-comparative-calm/" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, the Indian government claims to have <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/08/world/asia/kashmir-village-defense-committees.html" target="_blank">“normalised” the valley</a> after revoking its autonomy in 2019. It <a href="https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/conflict-between-india-and-pakistan" target="_blank">looks a lot like occupation</a>. Soldiers outnumber local leaders, dissent is criminalised, internet shutdowns suffocate public life. Tourism campaigns and investment summits cannot erase a generation raised under curfew and surveillance.
<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-66260730" target="_blank">Manipur’s descent into ethnic bloodshed</a> in 2023 exposed another fault line Delhi prefers to ignore. Long-simmering tensions between the Meitei and Kuki communities erupted into violence that shattered any illusions of northeastern integration. The central government’s delayed, politicised response made clear what many Manipuris had always suspected: they are citizens of India only when convenient.
Even the <a href="https://msf.org.au/rohingya-worlds-largest-stateless-population" target="_blank">Rohingya, stateless and exiled from Myanmar</a>, find themselves entangled in South Asia’s ethnonationalist calculus. Fleeing genocide, they are criminalised anew in Bangladesh and India – trapped between the countries that reject them and the memories that refuse to let them go.
South Asia’s states have excelled at suppressing rebellion. But failed at extinguishing the reasons rebellions rise in the first place. And the wars South Asia tries to forget at home have found new life abroad.
Across <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-06-17/modis-indian-government-accused-of-spying-silencing-critics/103974414" target="_blank">Canada, Australia, Britain, and the United States</a>, diasporic communities have become memory-keepers and, increasingly, <a href="https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/khalistan-supporters-hold-protest-outside-indian-consulate-in-vancouver-123092600087_1.html" target="_blank">the agitators</a> for the struggles their home states would rather erase.
Khalistan flags fly outside Indian consulates in Vancouver and <a href="https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/punjab/perturbed-over-waving-of-khalistani-flags-at-an-event-in-melbourne-india-warns-australia-of-khalistan-separatists-and-their-links-with-terror-groups-458320/" target="_blank">Melbourne</a>. Tamil activists march through London, demanding accountability for the <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/5/19/grim-reminder-sri-lankas-tamils-mark-15-years-since-end-of-civil-war" target="_blank">massacres in Mullivaikkal</a>. Kashmiri protests in Washington and New York refuse to let India’s crackdown slip into diplomatic amnesia.
For host countries, these movements pose uncomfortable questions. Freedom of expression collides with fears of extremism. Clashes erupt between communities carrying wounds that their new homelands.
Meanwhile, South Asian states pursue their adversaries across borders. India faces allegations of <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/canada-says-india-home-minister-ordered-campaign-against-sikh-activist-rcna177972" target="_blank">targeting Sikh activists for assassination in Canada</a> and the <a href="https://www.npr.org/2024/10/27/g-s1-29561/sikh-separatist-assassination-india" target="_blank">United States</a>. Pakistan continues to court Kashmiri separatists abroad while crushing Baloch dissent at home. <a href="https://apnews.com/article/sri-lanka-tamils-civil-war-dead-5b372b0bba567837c5a4d94250040e7d" target="_blank">Sri Lanka</a> lobbies furiously to brand Tamil diaspora organisations as fronts for terrorism, even as it stonewalls investigations into its own wartime atrocities.
The old insurgencies have not been defeated. They have been globalised. South Asia’s governments have long mistaken silence for stability.
In Punjab, India broke the back of the <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2023/10/06/india/india-canada-sikh-khalistan-analysis-intl-hnk/index.html" target="_blank">Khalistan insurgency</a> through brute force. The fields grew green again, the trains ran on time. But the wounds were never closed, the <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/why-is-indias-khalistan-separatist-movement-on-the-rise/a-65081729" target="_blank">movement’s heart beats</a> not in Amritsar but in Brampton and Surrey.
In Sri Lanka, the <a href="https://www.academia.edu/4738983/The_Man_Who_Destroyed_Eelam" target="_blank">military crushed the Tamil Tigers</a> with <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/01/17/death-of-the-tiger" target="_blank">overwhelming brutality in 2009</a>. <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/politics/article/3264148/we-want-our-children-back-sri-lankan-families-still-demanding-justice-their-missing-loved-ones" target="_blank">Tamil families still search for their missing</a>, still mourn their dead – and still organise across the diaspora for justice that remains undelivered.
In Kashmir, Delhi boasts of new <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2023/2/4/kashmir-is-bleeding-its-economy" target="_blank">highways and investment corridors</a>, showcasing the region as a trophy of unity. But when the visitors leave and the cameras are packed away, <a href="https://harvardlawreview.org/print/vol-134/from-domicile-to-dominion-indias-settler-colonial-agenda-in-kashmir/" target="_blank">the checkpoints, the raids, and the quiet despair remain.</a>
Victory parades fade. Grievance endures. Suppressing insurgency may end battles. It does not end the ideas that fueled them. In a region where <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/23/world/asia/kashmir-attack-india-pakistan.html" target="_blank">history is rarely past</a>, and memory is rarely voluntary, states that rule through repression are only ever buying time. And often, not very much.
South Asia’s unfinished wars are not accidents. They are the inevitable consequences of states that confuse conquest with consent, and erasure with reconciliation. They cannot legislate memory out of existence.
Every <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c15qyyzz89lo" target="_blank">disappeared son in Balochistan</a>, every <a href="https://medium.com/the-wvoice/the-half-widows-in-kashmir-fef80c6b88e9" target="_blank">half-widow in Kashmir</a>, every <a href="https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/focus/rohingya-refugee-crisis" target="_blank">refugee child born stateless in a Rohingya camp</a> carries forward the memory of betrayal – a memory that outlives soldiers, politicians, and peace accords alike.
The region’s future will not be decided by GDP figures or infrastructure projects alone. It will be decided by whether its governments can summon the political courage to face the truths they have long suppressed – or whether they will continue down a path <a href="https://theconversation.com/india-is-using-the-g20-summit-to-further-its-settler-colonial-ambitions-in-kashmir-205166" target="_blank">where forgetting is demanded</a>, and rebellion becomes inevitable.
Shyam Tekwani is a professor at the Daniel K. Inouye Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies in Hawaii. This <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/nexus_articles/ghosts-at-the-border-south-asias-unfinished-wars/" target="_blank">article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/security-nexus/" target="_blank">DKI APCSS Security Nexus.</a> The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of DKI APCSS, the Department of Defense, or the US Government. The appearance of external hyperlinks does not constitute endorsement by the United States Department of Defense (DoD) of the linked websites, or the information, products, or services contained therein. DoD does not exercise any editorial, security, or other control over the information you may find at these sites.

Balochistan to Kashmir

Most Nepalis thought they had seen the last of it after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/11-56-25-april-2015-wkc9q2an">the 25 April 7.8 magnitude </a>earthquake ten years ago. But the Himalaya had more surprises in store. On 12 May, another 7.3 magnitude tremor that some said was an aftershock, but was strong enough to itself be a major earthquake, struck Dolakha.&nbsp; Not many people had heard of Singati till then — a cluster of houses by the Tama Kosi River along a narrow gorge that is the roadhead to Rolwaling Valley.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_57b6e316656851f71eca56ca6f98d9bbcc820c1a00d62af3c990725b4361244d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250508110520_57b6e316656851f71eca56ca6f98d9bbcc820c1a00d62af3c990725b4361244d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_016534fb2b6a79957402281cda768efb83a146786377e39e11df3e251d37159e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250508110520_016534fb2b6a79957402281cda768efb83a146786377e39e11df3e251d37159e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>  It was here that dozens were killed on 25 April in the first earthquake. Hundreds of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Singati-rising-from-rubble-rebuilding,3703">Singati survivors</a> had lined up for food and relief supplies in the morning of 12 May when the second earthquake triggered a rock slide that buried a nearby camp. At least 50 people were killed. &nbsp; Three hours later, a US Marine Corps UH-1Y Venom helicopter landed in a nearby cornfield to pick up the wounded, and flew off. The aircraft lost contact with air traffic control in Kathmandu and its wreckage was located high on Kalinchok four days later. Six American servicemen, two Nepal Army soldiers, and five wounded civilians from Singati were killed. Today, Singati bears little physical scar of the multiple tragedies that struck the town ten years ago. Most <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bungamati-builds-back">houses have been rebuilt</a> as urban-style concrete structures, and Singati has become an economic hub on the road leading up to several hydropower plants and a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/off-the-beaten-trek-in-nepal"> popular trekking destination</a>.&nbsp; The town looks less like a village and more like a suburb of the Dolakha district headquarter of Charikot, 47km away.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_196f341d1df1403ba133e5dfeb837eec20d7cbcb4c8c56b17cc5598810de5df2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250508110520_196f341d1df1403ba133e5dfeb837eec20d7cbcb4c8c56b17cc5598810de5df2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110524_ae66c4a92430f67db51b5e11e017059eedfbac4cb18c8e073f2a50cca1fe904e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250508110524_ae66c4a92430f67db51b5e11e017059eedfbac4cb18c8e073f2a50cca1fe904e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> </figure>  “The demand for construction material, cement, iron rods and bricks peaked after the earthquakes,” says Suresh Khadka, who owns a hardware business here and now supplies material to the 456MW Upper Tama Kosi hydropower project that is undergoing repairs after it was damaged by a landslide last year. The demand for cement boomed since most residents believe, not necessarily correctly, that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state">cement houses are safer</a>. Although Khadka did well selling construction material after the earthquake, he worries that most new structures do not follow seismic-resistant building codes.&nbsp; The construction boom financed by bank loans has in turn forced many from Singati to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better">migrate overseas for work</a> so they can service their debt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110524_50caa4530bd5ff9120cf7ab70a62173846d337ef448ff8bac339f3faa375a9e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250508110524_50caa4530bd5ff9120cf7ab70a62173846d337ef448ff8bac339f3faa375a9e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> <figcaption>Suresh Khadka</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_ef8b7d3993fc3b5df852bbf952feb3fbabc96d6883b0d5eb74ee5c60f4123b83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250508110520_ef8b7d3993fc3b5df852bbf952feb3fbabc96d6883b0d5eb74ee5c60f4123b83" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> <figcaption>Phu Doma Sherpa (right)</figcaption> </figure>  “My family had no choice but to borrow money to rebuild our home since the government compensation was not enough, and ten years later we are still paying off the loan,” says Phu Doma Sherpa, 60. Because of the shortage of qualified masons and proper seismic engineering, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/structural-problems">many of the buildings are of questionable building standards </a>and the traditional architecture has been abandoned, admits Kul Bahadur Budathoki, deputy chair of the municipality. “But these buildings were more expensive than what the government grants could cover, many people here are heavily in debt and the men have <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/every-day-is-closer-to-pay-day">migrated to the Gulf to pay their loans</a>,” Budathoki says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250508110520_32f89e97b7e757fc9286c0bbb671f48ea8d4468e9634fa646d7247c650ad8480.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250508110520_32f89e97b7e757fc9286c0bbb671f48ea8d4468e9634fa646d7247c650ad8480" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1079" loading="lazy" alt="Climate magnifies earthquake risk in Nepal village NT"> <figcaption>Kul Bahadur Budathoki</figcaption> </figure>  Singati is in a multi-hazard zone. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Singati,3091">12 May 2015 earthquake </a>could have led to the collapse of Nepal’s largest glacial lake, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/stairway-to-heaven">Tso Rolpa</a>, upstream. Due to global warming, the glacier has turned into an expanding lake 3.5km long, and its collapse would have unleashed a catastrophic Himalayan tsunami down the Tama Kosi Valley, with Singati directly in its path. Singati has literally risen from the ashes of 2015, with its residents beginning to recover from the trauma and financial toll. But it is not out of danger as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>magnifies the risk from future earthquakes.