<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?

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th 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. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

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My father’s son

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

Sacred seed feeds boom