<figure><img width="508" height="696" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8509c7e80680e0737d2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Erika Leuchtag</figcaption></figure>When Erika read the story to the King, he cried out, “But that is I, Erika! And that is you!” The King asked if he might keep the story and Erika said, “It was written for you, but I promise you, one day the whole world will know.”The king is King Tribhuvan. Erika is Erika Leuchtag, a German physiotherapist. The story is the book With a King in the Clouds which came out in 1958, and a later edition titled Erika and the King published by Coward-McCann Inc.The book is an intimate history of King Tribhuvan during Nepal’s political transition, his queens Kanti and Ishwari and the princesses Nalini, Vijaya and Bharati, who were not allowed to leave the Narayanhiti Palace by Nepal’s Rana rulers.The 270-page memoir begins on Christmas Eve in 1948 when Erika receives a letter from a European doctor, asking if she would be prepared to be a masseur for the Senior Queen of Nepal, who was then staying in the household of the royal family of Patiala in India. Despite her family and friends advising her against venturing out to what was then a forbidden Himalayan kingdom, Erika entered Nepal in Feburary 1949 and walked up across Chandragiri pass to Kathmandu with her helper Gorkhi Ram and her spaniel dog, Peepchen.Erika did not have a clue about the Shah-Rana dynamics of Nepal’s two royal families until she sensed something was ‘off’ when she visited Singha Darbar – ‘a prototype of the Palace of Versailles’ -- to meet the last Rana Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher and the Director-General of Foreign Affairs, Bijaya Shumsher.   The British had left India, and an Anglophile Rana dynasty’s days were numbered. There were new rulers in Delhi, and many members of Nepal’s royal families and of India’s princely states were married to each other. Palace intrigue, royal rivalries, and geopolitics were churning, and Erika changed from what the Ranas saw as a ditzy European woman to an insider playing an integral part in helping Tribhuvan’s escape to India and the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-rana-reign-a-recap-of-history,3751" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-rana-reign-a-recap-of-history,3751&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731477000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEeVI5VlHSdV9KIvJH8D4cyFTHSKg">eventual end of Rana rule</a>.Her daily visits to the ‘Naran Hity Durbar’ was ostensibly to serve Senior Queen Kanti Rajya Lakshmi, but she ended up befriending the entire family, particularly King Tribhuvan. She was not just a physiotherapist for them, but a teacher, a Western dance instructor and a German language tutor.She nicknamed the two queens Kanti and Ishwari ‘Birdy’ and ‘Dreamy’ for their beauty and personalities, but one gets hints of a growing intimacy with Tribhuvan. Erika Leuchtag herself left Germany before the war because of the rise of Adolf Hitler, and she makes no secret of the fact that the Ranas reminded her of the Nazis, and the Shahs were therefore allies. <figure><img width="640" height="421" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8529c7e80680e0737d3jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Historian Dinesh Raj Panta remembers reading a smuggled copy of the first edition of Leuchtag’s book in secrecy because it was banned, ironically, after the Shahs came to power. As a historian, Panta was intrigued by the German’s relationship with Tribhuvan, his escape to the Indian Embassy in Kathmandu, departure to Delhi, and the events that followed.“Was she in love with Tribhuvan? Or was it just loyal devotion towards the king? Maybe the book was banned because people might think that the king’s father had a romantic alliance with a European woman and that would taint the history of the restoration of the Shah dynasty,” Panta speculates.Rajni Chand, the granddaughter of King Tribhuvan and daughter of Princess Nalini, was brought up in Happy Cottage inside Narayanhiti since she was two by both her grandmothers –Queens Kanti and Ishwari. Now 64 and living in Chhauni, she remembers her grannies talk about Erika and how everything changed after she arrived in Kathmandu.It was not just Erika who was devoted to the family. Chand remembers being told the royal family was also extremely fond of her. They even named the room when she taught them to waltz the Erika Dance Hall in her honour. As a child, Chand remembers sneaking into the hall every chance she got to admire the colourful walls, the decoration and cute animal toys.“My grandparents, mother and aunts were prisoners in the palace, and Erika was like a ray of sunshine in their lives, someone who they never imagined would help them recover from their miseries, and even in that short time, Erika managed to leave long-lasting memories for each one of them,” Chand told us in an interview last week. Unlike many history books about Nepal’s longest reigning king, Erika gives us an insider’s personal perspective on the man, describing vividly his melancholy and frustration at being a mere pawn at the hands of five Rana prime ministers: Chandra Shumsher, Bhim Shumsher, Juddha Shumsher, Padma Shumsher and Mohan Shumsher.Perhaps it is because of Erika’s influence that Tribhuvan confides that he wished to become a constitutional monarch like King George V of England. Which happened briefly during the transition in the 1950s, until his son King Mahendra took back absolute powers in 1961.King Tribhuvan worked alongside Dharma Bhakta Mathema and other Nepali democracy activists politicians, but the book’s more revealing parts are about the softer side of the man who loved and respected his wives and daughters, and who reciprocated the love.  The King and his family lived in Happy Cottage, which was later known as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendras-family-home/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendras-family-home/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731477000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG3ObBK2zclJi4mjdLD1Vl7kzpgLA">Tribhuvan Sadan inside Narayanhiti Palace</a>. As a royal prisoner, the king’s life was like that of a bird in a gilded cage. He <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5572#.X0tObygzaUk" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D5572%23.X0tObygzaUk&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731477000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGyP_KcLZSBXblZNaDipjaC99Z5PQ">was intrigued by Europe</a>, and often pored over mail-catalogues for clothes, furniture and cars to order for the palace. The book describes Tribhuvan as a man of sophistication who yearned to visit the outside world.Tribhuvan was childlike, and according to Erika he never liked alcohol – mainly because he did not want to be a puppet king spoilt by wine and women like his father and grandfather. He was fond of cigars, dressed well, and once smuggled two trunks full of books from India through <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10754#.X0tONCgzaUk" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D10754%23.X0tONCgzaUk&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731477000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGeUygdKTg44KKrBkNYYNg6Blgp_g">Boris Lissanevitch</a>, the White Russian émigré who managed Royal Hotel.The book is a time capsule and through Erika’s keen sense of observation, we get descriptions of Narayanhiti’s majestic gardens and detailed portrayals of people she came across. The book is necessarily dated and in places turgid when she is describing the sights and sounds of Kathmandu, but one has to understand that this was one of the first books introducing Nepal to the outside world. <figure><img width="640" height="428" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8549c7e80680e0737d4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There are hints that Erika was more than a royal physiotherapist, she mentions walking hand-in-hand with the Tribhuvan around the palace garden. It is clear that she and Tribhuvan were working together to overthrow the Ranas, and in this she became the go-between to coordinate logistics with Indian ambassadors Surjit Singh Majithia (1947-49) and CPN Singh (1949-52).She and Tribhuvan developed elaborate code words in their communications to keep their plans a secret. Here were some of them:Serpent - A Rana Big Snake - Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher Bird - Ambassador Moor - The King Flower - Letter Kite - Airplane Storm – EvacuationErika - LakshmiErika and the King, is now available as an <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Erika-King-Leuchtag/dp/B0007E688M" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.com/Erika-King-Leuchtag/dp/B0007E688M&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731477000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHopWxvyrr42DwwgcwKS65XtM0j9A">e-book in English translation</a> and is a timeless historical read. This is a fairy-tale account of that period, but it is accurate and does not exaggerate her own influence. <img width="960" height="888" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8569c7e80680e0737d5jpeg.jpg" alt="">Rajni Chand (pictured left) notes that Erika's account and the oral history that she grew up with in the Shah royal family do match quite a bit. Chand admits she admired and respected Erika, probably also because the book mentions her grandmothers, mother and aunts in loving terms. That is the other unique part of this book -- very few historical accounts in Nepal ever mention the women behind the scenes, and if they do the female protagonists are often portrayed as power-hungry and ruthless.   <figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8589c7e80680e0737d6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The book concludes with King Tribhuvan’s death in a hospital in Zurich, and as Dinesh Raj Panta notes, leaves open an interpretation about why Erika did so much for a country that would have never recognised her efforts.  Even 62 years after its first publication, Erika and the King is a fascinating insider account of Nepal’s royal family through the eyes of a foreigner. It also re-introduces us to Erika Leuchtag, who seems to have played an important role in the escape of Tribhuvan and his family in 1950 to the Indian Embassy and four days later to Delhi. The rest, of course, is history, as the tri-partite Delhi Agreement paved the way for an interim government and move towards a democratic Nepal. We won’t give away any spoilers, but we learn about Erika’s role in getting Tribhuvan to meet the Indian ambassadors and carry a letter from Nehru. This is all stuff that could be turned into a gripping historical tv series like The Crown for which Erika Leuchtag has already written the script. Excerpts: King Tribhuvan was curious about Senior Queen’s physiotherapy treatment and wanted the same treatment for himself too. Here, Erika describes King Tribhuvan's physique in intimate details: He took off the dressing gown. Beneath it, he wore black and white bathing trunks, and his body was as superbly muscled and as graceful as that of the dancing deity Nata Raja. About his hips, and dipping down toward his loins, was a broad belt of thin golden mesh, fastened in the centre by a clip mouthed with a great emerald. Around the biceps of his right arm he writhed a golden snake, it's head a milky moonstone. From his throat, hung amulets strung to threads of gold and emeralds.  From neck to ankle he was tattooed, twisting, cunning convolutions of blue lace of his pale skin. The intricate patterns combined on his chest, thighs and shoulders to form ferns, flowers and the outstretched beauty of peacock’s feathers.  A letter from King Tribhuvan to Erika Leuchtag where he has given due credit to Erika's effort through coded words:  ‘Dear Miss Lakshmi -- I thank you for your advice -- be still more grave. I will try very much to be grave. The photo of Lakshmi is in my portico, the reflection is in my heart. Do not forget us. The bird came to my garden and gave me the Doctor's flower, but you are the person who sowed the seed and took care of the plant. The flower is very sweet and beautiful. What more? Not only I, but all my party offer you our heartfelt thanks for the trouble you have taken to plant and make it free from pest.’ In a conversation with Indian Ambassador CPN Singh during a picnic trip to Budhanilkantha, Erika Leuchtag writes about a conversation with his predecessor: I told him that Surjit had met the King, and that he had promised to help, even by flying the King out of Nepal to asylum in India, but this had come to nothing with Surjit's recall.  Chandreshwar Prasad Narain Singh: "I should meet your King, also, although I cannot promise to fly him out of the country. But first tell me what it is he wants from India. I shall be going to India soon. Perhaps I could talk to Pandit-ji (Jawaharlal Nehru) and perhaps bring a letter back for your King.”Erika and the King (With a King in the Clouds)by <a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_book_1?ie=UTF8&amp;field-author=Erika+Leuchtag&amp;text=Erika+Leuchtag&amp;sort=relevancerank&amp;search-alias=books" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.com/s/ref%3Ddp_byline_sr_book_1?ie%3DUTF8%26field-author%3DErika%2BLeuchtag%26text%3DErika%2BLeuchtag%26sort%3Drelevancerank%26search-alias%3Dbooks&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731477000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE-_71Hzq5pnnqaDk13T5NFuohKTw">Erika Leuchtag</a>Coward-McCann; First Edition (January 1, 1958)Hardcover 255 pages $12.48 <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Erika-King-Leuchtag/dp/B0007E688M" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.com/Erika-King-Leuchtag/dp/B0007E688M&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598858731478000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHywzQxAUhBengy0Xi0PBJWewxKbw">on Amazon</a><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba85b9c7e80680e0737d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="210" height="300">

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Erika and King Tribhuvan

As they walk along the dark, narrow alleys Dutch architect Anne Feenstra and structural engineer Amshu Bhattarai, are shocked. Despite the warning of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/photos-nepal-earthquake-2015,2207">2015 earthquake</a>, much of the new construction flouts basic architectural codes and engineering features. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca749c7e80680e02f310jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="130" height="101"></div> The two stroll from one densely-packed town square to the next, and their expert eyes spot structural faults and vulnerabilities in buildings in which there are multiple families living in partitioned flats. Some have concrete floor additions on top of old brick mud walls, others have cantilevered rooms jutting out and overhanging the street below. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=4254&amp;preview=true">Mind the gap</a>, Editorial <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=4270&amp;preview=true">Past disasters foretold</a>, Om Astha Rai “Here, in this one, the lesson is never to copy and paste,” says Feenstra, pointing to a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Raze-retrofit%20-or-rebuild,3963">Rana era home</a> with its walls and windows severely out of alignment. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca759c7e80680e02f311jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1204"> </div> Malla period traditional builders interlocked the timber and stones to create flexible but strong earthquake resistant structures. Feenstra explains that the Ranas were more interested in external stucco decoration and not strength, which is why a disproportionate number of Rana-era buildings were damaged three years ago. Although most of the houses that collapsed in Kathmandu in 2015 had load-bearing walls with brick-and-mortar masonry, a slightly stronger earthquake that had lasted longer with higher amplitude of shaking would have brought down many concrete pillar buildings as well. Amshu Bhattarai is with the Department of Urban Development and Building Construction (DUDBC) and says the fact that cement buildings survived has given people <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-concrete-future,2251">a false belief that they are stronger.</a> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca779c7e80680e02f312jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1300" height="828"> </div> “Some of the concrete pillar buildings like this one here are constructed with just four beams in each corner, this can have disastrous consequences in case of a future bigger earthquake,” Bhattarai explains, pointing to a new building coming up near Mangal Bazar. Lack of urban planning, flouting of building codes, and poor quality construction materials plagued structural safety in Kathmandu Valley even before the earthquake. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/earthquake-doesnt-kill-people-corruption-does/" target="_blank">Earthquake doesn’t kill people, corruption does</a>, From the Nepali Press But three years later, it looks like residents have got over the initial shock of the quake, and have forgotten about safety again. It does not help that the municipal bureaucracy, lack of trained construction workers, and little awareness in the public have made it easy to flout safety codes. Sharing his field experience from <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/crumbling-history-nuwakot,3698">Nuwakot</a> and Kathmandu, Bhattarai explains: “Most people don’t know that in order to qualify for compensation, they must work with a government certified contractor or engineer to rebuild their houses, otherwise they won’t be eligible for the compensation even if they have already built their homes.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNFUMNb7IL0&amp;feature=youtu.be That knowledge gap extends to technicians and building contractors as well. Many builders fail to abide by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/building-back-unsafe,3674">construction guidelines</a> and have improper joints, don’t insert enough iron rods to give beams and columns required strength, do not mix cement in the proper way, and do not allow enough time for curing. Population pressure due to rampant urbanisation, greed of flat-owners and the need to cut costs may turn most of old Kathmandu Valley structures into death traps in the next big earthquake. “This is actually very badly mixed concrete, it is too sandy and does not even bind well together,” says Feenstra, pointing out a poorly patched wall, with chunks of cement falling off. As the architects exit a narrow alley, they come across a man praying at a roadside shrine, rubbing vermilion on his door frame to protect his home which was badly damaged in the 2015 quake and still propped up by timber beams. Asks Feenstra: “If you have a chance to create a safe home for your family, would you do many pujas or would you rather talk to a structural engineer?” Read Also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/earthquakes-dont-kill-people-weak-houses-and-bad-planning-do,1930">Unnatural disaster</a>, Editorial <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/preparing-for-the-next-big-earthquake-in-nepal">Preparing to be prepared</a>, Kunda Dixit

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How prepared are we for the next big one?

The Kathmandu Valley has attracted an exceptional number of outstanding and accomplished foreigners over the decades, but few as extraordinary as Marilyn Silverstone (1929-1999).&nbsp; Frances Klatzel’s book A Portrait of Ourselves, Marilyn Silverstone: From Photojournalist to Buddhist Nun, is a fitting and fascinating biographical celebration of this American woman whose life of unusual choices took her, as the title suggests, from an affluent Jewish childhood in Scarsdale, New York to becoming an acclaimed and adventurous Magnum photographer.&nbsp; Roving the world, her camera captured many of the most iconic events of the 20th century, her images were published in Time, Life, Newsweek, Look, National Geographic, Paris Match, Vogue and other magazines. Following the teachings of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, Marilyn Silverstone devoted the last twenty years of her eventful life to living quietly and practising Buddhism in Nepal. Ordained as a Buddhist nun, she took vows in the sanctified Solukhumbu precincts of Thubten Choling with Venerable Trulshik Rinpoche in the spring of 1977. Living in Kathmandu until her death in Shechen Monastery, which she helped create, Marilyn wrote: ‘When I look back over the years, although I did not know it at the time, ending my life as a Buddhist nun was logical and inevitable.’&nbsp; Ani Marilyn was a familiar figure amid the sacred spaces of the Valley, the lanes of Boudha and even Kathmandu’s drawing rooms during my early years in Nepal, a large smiling presence draped in maroon robes, dyed sneakers, slightly whiskered, robust.&nbsp; As a wedding gift she gave Tenzin and I an inscribed copy of her slim volume, Ocean of Life, aptly named for the span of her achievements and expansive embrace – editor, translator, writer, filmmaker, photographer, journalist and Buddhist nun. Marilyn’s nephew wrote: ‘Her legacy was that she was always herself no matter what chapter of her life that she was living.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_70d489c3d161f59668f315ede60cbb213d365357b0a9f2d7aad3b537a14dcb5e.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260122100124_70d489c3d161f59668f315ede60cbb213d365357b0a9f2d7aad3b537a14dcb5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1164" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Ani Marilyn"> <figcaption>Ani Marilyn as a Tibetan Buddhist nun at Shechen Monastery in Boudha.</figcaption> </figure>  Working with a wide range of impeccable sources, Frances Klatzel has assembled first-hand the personal recollections and unsparing insights from Marilyn’s most intimate friends. One of these, Jane Abell Coon, wrote the Introduction. She was a well-known person in 1980s Kathmandu whose husband Carlton Coon served as American Ambassador to Nepal and she simultaneously as American Ambassador in Bangladesh.&nbsp; The book begins with a rare message from the 14th Dalai Lama and a touching Foreword by Venerable Rabjam Rinpoche. It ends with exquisite excerpts from a Buddhist religious tract that Marilyn had translated from its traditional Tibetan text. Marilyn’s initial trip to India was to photograph Ravi Shankar in 1955, the classical sitar maestro. Increasingly fascinated by ‘the complex and compassionate culture’ of Tibet, her Himalayan archives include images throughout India, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan.&nbsp; The first internationally accredited photojournalist to base herself in India, from 1959 Marilyn lived in Bombay then Delhi, with her lifelong partner Frank Moraes, the Goan journalist, writer, commentator and first Indian editor of the Times of India after Independence. INDIAN INFLUENCERS I remember being taken to meet the legendary Frank Moraes in 1973, by then politically exiled in Marilyn’s elegant but chaotic London house, a magnet for South Asian intellectuals. She was not there, but Frank’s son the poet Dom Moraes was slumped desultory on a sagging sofa. My impression of Frank was well-dressed, polite and slightly distracted. Marilyn’s talent for friendship and wide network of Indian influencers and princely connections gave her unique access to historic events, as well as recording refugees, rituals, droughts, floods, famines and funerals. In addition to maharajahs and global leaders, her images portray personal moments, ordinary people, unflinching pain and flashes of joy. She said: ‘In my job, the closer you get to people, the better off you are.’ This book is illustrated with a thrilling trove of pictures of and by Marilyn, many of which reflect the impact of Henri Cartier-Bresson who signed her up as one of the first women to join his prestigious Magnum photo cooperative.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_6dfdef41da5945aea0a8bbd8c1514af5de2adb36361d4e20c29914c59f2039e0.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100124_6dfdef41da5945aea0a8bbd8c1514af5de2adb36361d4e20c29914c59f2039e0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2124" height="1404" loading="lazy" alt="Ani Marilyn"> </figure>  Her assignments ranged across warzones in Vietnam, the Shah of Iran’s coronation, and Russian tanks rolling into Prague. Marilyn’s 1960s involved constant travel, her Magnum beat was the ‘Far East’, from Pakistan and Bangladesh to China, Korea, and Japan.&nbsp; With a knack at being in the right place at the right time, Marilyn was the only western woman journalist to record the arrival from Lhasa into ‘safety and exile’ of the young Dalai Lama in 1959. She was at Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s funeral in Delhi, the Chogyal of Sikkim’s marriage to Hope Cooke, and with Jacqueline Kennedy on a small boat at the Lake Palace of Udaipur.&nbsp; Marilyn snapped the Pope giving blessings in Bombay, Mother Teresa attending to the poor, and the Beatles on their way to meet the Maharishi. With Frank, she travelled to Africa and shot Emperor Haile Selassie in Ethiopia, Nigeria’s independence celebrations, and a very old and solar-topied Dr Albert Schweitzer in his jungle hospital in Gabon.&nbsp; A Portrait of Ourselves, Marilyn Silverstone: From Photojournalist to Buddhist Nun, is a highly recommended tribute to an inspirational life, told with discerning honesty and private perceptions by those who knew her best.&nbsp; Her monastic years living in Nepal continued to feature travel, hard work, undiminished curiosity, dogged fights for right, uncompromising support for others, disdain for conformity and battles with ill health, but all with her characteristic good humour. Marilyn leaves us with some sound advice in her own words: “I can say that I did it all. The secret though is just keep walking through life without analysing it too much or clinging to it too much. Just walk on.” &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100140_dc0c465e462bd14e92b2a2e79b5349f23fa039bcda81cc02a9a70adbcee35c7b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100140_dc0c465e462bd14e92b2a2e79b5349f23fa039bcda81cc02a9a70adbcee35c7b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="marilyn silverstone"> </figure>

“Just walk on”

The pale green ice on the top of the lake gleams in the pale January sunlight. The dark waters beneath are visible through the translucent frozen surface. This is Thulagi Glacial Lake at the foot of Mt Manaslu in central Nepal, classified as one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up">most dangerous lakes </a>to appear in the Himalaya due to climate heating.&nbsp; The place is breathtaking not just because of its 4,050m altitude, but the scenery all around. The beauty belies the threat this expanding lake poses downstream along the Marsyangdi Valley. &nbsp; The lake lies at the terminus of the 4.5km long Thulagi Glacier. The local Gurung inhabitants call it Dona Tal. They say it started appearing in the 1960s. Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung, 47, has been ferrying trekkers to the spot for about 20 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>MELTING MOUNTAINS: Thulagi Glacial Lake in Manang has been identified among 47 lakes in Nepal at risk of an outburst flood because of climate breakdown. All photos: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Yaks graze below Thulagi Himal (7,059m) and Mt Manaslu (8,163m) along the Dona Khola that drains the lake.</figcaption> </figure>  “Dona used to be small, but it has now grown bigger,” he says, gesturing to how the glacier has receded and shrunk. Trekkers used to be able to go to the other side, but now the glacier is riddled with ponds and boulders falling off the moraine that make it dangerous.&nbsp; Gurung adds rather matter-of-factly: “The lake will burst sooner or later.”&nbsp; Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) has been studying Thulagi for the past two decades. Topographic maps from the 1960s and early satellite images show the lake being much smaller.&nbsp; When the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-resource-curse">Marsyangdi Hydropower Project</a> project was being built in 1994, the German Institute of Geology and Natural Resources with the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology measured the lake to be already 2km in length. More recent surveys show the lake has increased its size since then to more than 1 sq km. &nbsp; The lake is among 47 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/meltpools-in-the-himalaya">dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal and Tibet </a>&nbsp;identified by ICIMOD in 2020 due to its size, the risk of landslides and avalanches, and the gradual collapse of the lake’s ice-core moraine dam.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung has been taking trekkers up to Thulagi Lake for 20 years.</figcaption> </figure>  In 2018 a team of glaciologists led by Umesh K Haritasya <a href="https://www.mdpi.com/2072-4292/10/5/798">published a journal article</a> about the evolution of three glacial lakes including Thulagi, Lower Barun, and Imja. Even back in 1976, Thulagi was twice the size of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Diverting-danger,3172">Imja glacial lake</a> in the Khumbu and six times the size of the Lower Barun. The team measured the lake’s depth at 79m, and calculated that it held 36.1 million m3 of water. Since then, Thulagi has been growing at a slower rate than the other two lakes because it is shielded by shadows of mountains. There is also not as much glacial calving in the narrow valley.&nbsp; Nonetheless, scientists and experts have long warned that a Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) from Thulagi poses a big risk to four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and settlements like Besisahar and Dumre (map).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504" data-rendition-name="original" width="2076" height="1444" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi map"> </figure>  The lake feeds into Dona Khola, a tributary of the Marsyangdi where the 49.9MW Dona Khola hydropower project is being built at a cost of Rs10 billion. Another 42MW Super Dona Khola project is planned on the river. “One of the trigger points that could lead to a glacial lake outburst could be the steep lateral moraine, which might be weakened by rapidly melting permafrost,” says Scott Watson, a University of Leeds researcher who was part of the team that conducted the 2018 study. Locals are already witnessing what Watson describes. They say that it was easy to reach Thulagi’s headwaters even until a few years ago, but that is now dangerous because of ice and rockfalls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1426" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>The 50MW Upper Marsyangdi Hydropower Project station in Lamjung. A Thulagi Lake outburst would damage four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and its tributaries.</figcaption> </figure>  GLOF WARNING&nbsp; Glaciologist Rijan Bhakta Kayastha has been studying Thulagi since 1994, and was part of a team that discovered that the lake’s terminal moraine was made up of rocky soil on top and ice at its core.&nbsp; In 2020, Kayastha's team published a study that modelled the route of a possible GLOF. They found that if the lake burst, it would take 2.5 hours to reach Dharapani, and 4 hours to reach Bahundanda 39km downstream. The surge would be 13.7m high at Dharapani and 15m by the time it reached Taal, the village most at risk because it is situated only a few metres above the Marsyangdi. ‘Considering the size of the Thulagi glacial lake and its dam, it seems unlikely that a rock fall or avalanche would cause the lake to breach the moraine dam,” concluded the study. “But an earthquake or climate change would require a separate study. At present, there is no immediate or imminent threat of this glacier bursting.” MEMORIES OF 2021 Across Manang valley, residents are haunted by the memories of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">2021 flood on the Marsyangdi</a> that swept away parts of Chame, Dharapani, Naso, and Taal villages.&nbsp; Kamarkali Gurung, grew up on the banks of the Marsyangdi in Dharapani, and had never imagined that the tranquil river she knew could become such a monster. She had saved up to build her own three-story property with 17 rooms.&nbsp; Her family was away that June evening when the flood swept away her hotel. “Not even a spoon remained, everything was gone,” says Kamarkali. “Losing the hotel hurt like losing a loved one. The Marsyangdi flows through my house now, I can never go back.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>SURVIVORS: Kamarkali Gurung's hotel was swept away by the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi. She now operates her hotel from a rented house in Dharapani.</figcaption> </figure>  Surendra Gurung, also a hotelier, was in Dharapani the night of the flood, and can still remember the fear as the river roared towards the village. “I did not know if I would live or die,” he says.&nbsp; Sirantal village was merely 10m above the Marsyangdi, and was completely destroyed by the flood. Thirty-two people were rescued by army helicopters, and most of the families have now relocated to Taal.&nbsp; One of them is Singha Bahadur Gurung who also ran a lodge for 20 years. “We did not have to buy anything except rice, the soil in Sirantal was so fertile,” he remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Singha Bahadur Gurung operated a lodge in Sirantal before the flood swept it away in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  Marsyangdi now flows through where Singha Gurung’s village used to be. “Ever since the flood, I am terrified every time it rains from June to August,” he says.&nbsp; The 2021 flood was during the monsoon, and was caused by unusually heavy rainfall in the catchment. A GLOF on the Marsyangdi would be much more destructive. Roshni Ghale, 46, runs a hotel in Taal, and escaped with her family to a nearby cave as the flood engulfed nearby homes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Roshni Ghale spent six months after the 2021 flood rebuilding her hotel in Taal. Tourism has steadily picked up in the four years since the flood. </figcaption> </figure>  “We spent the next six months after the flood rebuilding our lives, going to bed hungry many a night,” she recalls. In the four years since, tourism has picked up again, but the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unseen-wounds-of-climate-disasters"> community is still traumatised</a>. In the wake of the floods, the government had begun talks to rehabilitate and repatriate the community, but until now, they have been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/from-one-disaster-to-the-next">empty promises</a>. In any case, the people here, most of them experienced hoteliers whose livelihood depends on tourism, are unwilling to uproot their lives and start over elsewhere.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Most of the survivors of the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi from villages like Sirantal have relocated to the upstream village of Taal, which itself was hit by a monsoon flood in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  DISASTER PREPAREDNESS Even though studies have assessed the risk of GLOFs in Manang and across Nepal, and warned about the damage that such floods could cause, it took until 2021 for early warning systems to be installed on the banks of the Marsyangdi and in the town of Taal.&nbsp; But beyond that, there has been little preparedness. Early warning systems and disaster preparedness are necessary not just along the Marsyangdi but also at and around Thulagi itself, say experts. Locals here are becoming increasingly aware of the risk posed by the expanding lake up the valley, but are reluctant to leave homes and communities that they have lived in for generations. The hydropower projects on the Dona Khola promises jobs, and the local government is upgrading the hiking trail to Thulagi Lake which has become a tourist attraction. “Manang now gets <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/too-little-snow-too-much-rain">too little snow and too much rain</a>, and the Marsyangdi charts its own course,” says Min Rashi Gurung, chair of Ward-1 of Naso rural municipality, where Thulagi is located. &nbsp; But help may be on the way.Last year, the Green Climate Fund (GCF) approved a $36.1 million grant to help Nepal reduce risk of GLOFs in Thulagi and four other glacial lakes. The project is managed by the government and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). The project is set to begin next fiscal year, and will reduce the water level in the four glacial lakes including Thulagi, similar to what was done in Imja and Tso Rolpa, says Dinkar Kayastha at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology. &nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism - Nepal

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

This is the 81st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I went to Australia in 2008 because everyone was headed there. It was my first time leaving the country and my first job. My college helped me find work as a kitchen helper at a Brisbane restaurant.&nbsp; I did not know that being a kitchen helper meant washing dishes. I was young and did not know how to wash dishes or how to handle the steam, the hot water, and the busy kitchen. The utensils were thrown at the dishwashing station continuously, and water splashed on my face. My shoes and clothes were always wet. It was an on-call job. A couple of days into the job, I was asked to come in when I was at the movies. I refused. They fired me. That was that. I then worked on a farm, picking lemons and oranges. The lemon work was particularly hard because I would get cuts all over my hands. This hustle was not for me.&nbsp; Within a year in Australia, I decided to return to Nepal because the foreign life did not suit me. After spending eight months in Nepal, reality sank in. Nepal was not all that great either. I went back to Australia. On the plane, I befriended a Nepali woman who was homesick and a first time traveler. At the immigration in Australia, the officer noticed my long absence and started interrogating me. He noticed the Nepali woman waiting for me and asked who she was. Without thinking I lied that she was my girlfriend. That seemed to do the trick because he did not want us to be separated. He stamped my passport. She went her way. I went mine.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f" data-rendition-name="original" width="987" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81 NT"> </figure>  In Sydney, I again found a dishwashing job at a fine dining restaurant. A Sri Lankan colleague helped me learn the job. The pace at which I had to do the dishes was insane but I got the hang of it in two weeks. I always dreamt of one day wearing the chef’s white coat. It commanded respect, I could tell. In addition to becoming good at my job washing dishes, I also had good language and networking skills so I built good relationships with colleagues. There was a need for a pizza chef at the restaurant. It was expensive to hire someone new, and they asked me if I was up for the job. I said yes even though I knew nothing about making pizzas. My Italian colleagues coached me and before I knew it, I became better than others at the job. Soon, I realised that I did not just want to make pizzas. Whatever I wanted to learn, I just asked seniors to take me under their wings and I would help without pay. They would agree but still pay me. It wasn’t a strategy per se, I genuinely wanted to learn. At some point, a Japanese sous chef in my restaurant and I had coincidentally applied to the same restaurant, and there, under him, I got to learn even more. Working with a Japanese chef is really difficult, but you learn a lot. He would sometimes even hold my hand with tongs dipped in hot water when I screwed something up. I worked in a few restaurants after this and was earning well. When one of my colleagues, a dishwasher, was let go unfairly, I decided to leave because I did not want to be a quiet bystander to this act. I returned to Nepal immediately after this.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 82"> </figure>  I started a restaurant called Ghumti, but it was struggling. The location of the restaurants was not good and it failed. I bought another restaurant in Darbar Marg. I was managing two restaurants when Covid hit. The rent kept piling up, and there was no revenue. I took a huge loss. I gave them up and returned to Chitwan and started making migration plans. I came across a job vacancy for Alba in Qatar by the famous Enrico Crippa. I still remember the heat when I got out of the airport in Doha, it was like entering an oven. Thankfully, I had a Nepali roommate who showed me around and helped me adjust.&nbsp; The hotel was still under construction, but training had started. We worked really hard for the opening and things went well. In 2023, we even won the Best MENA Restaurant award. But at some point in 2024, the international Crippa chain decided to leave.&nbsp; Some colleagues including the head chef left and I suddenly was put in charge. I had some head chef experience from Australia and had previous experience working in high pressure environments, so I stepped up. We had to start from scratch again, this time as Alba in Raffles, Doha.&nbsp; The name of our restaurant comes from the Alba white truffle, which is the best available and is expensive, selling at around 40,000 QAR per kg. We had heard the official announcement that the Michelin was coming to Qatar, and we worked even harder.&nbsp; Michelin inspections are strict, highly secretive and you have no idea you are being investigated. Even then, we were up for the game. We were ‘selected’ which meant we had potential.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="697" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81"> </figure>  I went to the award ceremony with low expectations. But because they announce the name alphabetically, Alba came first. I was very happy and felt validated. Being recognised as a Michelin one star restaurant is a huge achievement for us. My MD reminded me of a promise I had made of getting a Michelin tattoo if we got the award. I guess I will get it done when I come to Nepal next. My plan is to get a tattoo that captures my journey right from the dishwashing days.&nbsp; I have cooked for Obama, Beckham, Kaka, Trump, 50 Cent, Lindsay Lohan, you name it, because our restaurant is visited by high profile guests. At first, I used to feel the pressure. Now I view all guests as the same. The food you make is the same no matter who is eating it. I love the work. In fact, it does not feel like work. The rush in the kitchen, the atmosphere, the heat, the scent, I live for it. When I am not working, I get bored. It is like an addiction without which I get withdrawals. I want to contribute in introducing Nepali cuisine and ingredients in the worldstage. Nepalis overseas have a lot of potential in the hospitality sector. But my advice to youth is to focus on building a strong base and invest in learning. It is increasingly common for Nepalis to job hop for a salary jump. While other skills like language are also important, it is the hard skills that we really need to focus on. In our field of work, it is the plate that needs to speak.

Sky is the limit

A mighty metal bird, ‘Heron on Hunt’ spreads its wings and unhinges its mouth hungrily. It looks down at ‘The Defending Crab,’ which has windshield wipers for legs and opens its pincers defiantly at the heron, daring it to attack. The crab shell is made of a ceiling fan, the blades of which have been cut up to form the bird’s wings. “The story is that you are what you eat,” says artist <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/artist-in-studio-9-metamorphosis-by-saurab-koirala/" target="_blank">Saurab Koirala</a>, whose solo exhibition ‘<a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/artist-in-studio-9-metamorphosis-by-saurab-koirala/" target="_blank">Metamorphosis</a>’ at <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/archiving-for-the-future-an-intersection-of-heritage-and-architecture/" target="_blank">Taragaon Next </a>has sculptures made of material retrieved from garbage warehouses. Koirala was in the studio when protestors ransacked the adjacent Hyatt Hotel on 9 September. The windows of the iconic museum designed by <a href="https://www.archdaily.com/957728/carl-pruscha-an-architect-investigating-overlooked-territories" target="_blank">architect Carl Pruscha</a> in the 1960s were all shattered, but the studio survived. He used the broken glass to make fins for his fish sculptures and wings for insects.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012409010_0c6c0f6d69472940e1c623db7bae62235a18ded418066b1c8ecc89485d76dcd4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026012409010_0c6c0f6d69472940e1c623db7bae62235a18ded418066b1c8ecc89485d76dcd4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Saurab Koirala exhibition Taragaon Next NT"></figure>  Metamorphosis is a reference to the transformation of trash into art, but it is also fitting because many of the repurposed items are of insects: a firefly, a dung beetle, a spider, a dragonfly, a queen ant. The most striking are the pair of praying mantises, the smaller one is black, made of windshield wipers, and the larger grey one is made of a motorcycle silencer, bicycle parts, and a fluorescent tube holder. About the unrealistic size difference, Koirala notes that each piece is made of a component that defines its size. For the larger grey mantis, the defining piece is the silencer that makes up its torso. “The mantises are mating,” Koirala explains. “The female mantis will cannibalise the male afterwards, and the dragonfly witnesses the whole scene.” It is possible to look at each installation and immediately recognise what it is meant to be, but on looking closer we see what the parts are made of, and how. The exhibition is from Koirala’s Taragaon Next residency program sponsored by the Saraf Foundation.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012409010_35d47a71c3e357d4cdba166cdcbf37019639c68a3d69a158f19fe97ea48065ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2026012409010_35d47a71c3e357d4cdba166cdcbf37019639c68a3d69a158f19fe97ea48065ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Saurab Koirala exhibition Taragaon Next NT"></figure>  Koirala thinks of himself as primarily a painter and a caricature artist, and not a sculptor. His mother was a teacher, and would make miniature animals, gods, houses for her students. “Seeing how happy she was doing that made me want to do it too, although she did not want me to be an artist,” Koirala recalls. Some of his mother’s creations are also on display at the exhibition. Koirala got more experience working with 3D models digitally in his work at Incessant Rain animation studio, especially animals. This seems to have given him strong visualisation skills that he has put to use in the art pieces, using minimal bending and cutting. Koirala participated in the WastArt Competition in 2018, where his Danphe sculpture made from colourful coke and soda cans was so striking that it became a part of the permanent collection at the Sagarmatha Next Art Gallery in Syangboche. Koirala worked in the studio in Khumbu, fashioning yaks and bees out of trekking trash.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012409010_253578bca93f136dca51102fc03a675cc3a8f47ba0b2d31ae2a4020c2c6e7485.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026012409010_253578bca93f136dca51102fc03a675cc3a8f47ba0b2d31ae2a4020c2c6e7485" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Saurab Koirala exhibition Taragaon Next NT"></figure>  “My back hurts,” he grimaces as he opens the doors to the studio, an unassuming shed a short walk from the exhibition which is littered with metal spare parts for future art. He has gone through three whole bicycles with a power saw. Koirala seems to want to alter the scrap as little as possible, and it is uncanny how well some of it fits the pieces. The aerodynamic curved fuel tank of a Bajaj Avenger motorcycle becomes the abdomen of a gigantic queen ant. A mosquito repellent becomes the green body of a spider. A stapler and a coconut turn into a snail. The steel legs of a rolling office chair curve exactly into the legs and paws of a fox in motion. “I did not want the animals to be in static poses. I wanted to capture dynamic movement,” says Koirala. Fittingly, most of the parts he has chosen have come from vehicles: bicycles, motorcycles, scooters, car horns, air filters. While Koirala’s work in his Sagarmatha Next residency was about waste encroaching into nature in the mountains, his work in Metamorphosis is a nostalgic memory of a happy childhood in Biratnagar. ‘There used to be abundant dragonflies in my hometown,’ writes Koirala in his description. “As kids, we would catch them and tie threads to their tails and fly them like kites.” The message about the degradation of nature is more valid than ever. The world is seeing the mass extinction of insects, and uncontrolled urbanisation of polluted Kathmandu Valley means only ants and some spiders survive. Artist in Studio #9: <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/artist-in-studio-9-metamorphosis-by-saurab-koirala/" target="_blank">Metamorphosis</a> <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/" target="_blank">Taragaon Next</a> Till 30 January 10AM-5:30PM

construction-guidelines

Erika and King Tribhuvan

How prepared are we for the next big one?

“Just walk on”

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

Sky is the limit

Turning trash into sculptures