<img width="1500" height="825" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b939e9c7e80680e06f1b4jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Last year was too unpleasant to remember, yet too hard to forget. I was expecting something totally normal. Nothing dangerous, nothing out of the blue. Just another ordinary year. However, 2020 turned out to be anything but ordinary.In December of 2019, as Covid-19 first appeared, starting to infect people in China, I was already disheartened. I had a premonition that things would not be the same for a very long time. By March, everything was locked down in Kathmandu, but I did believe that there was light at the end of the tunnel. This was just another pandemic. We have seen worse in Nepal, or so I thought. The lockdown was quite normal for me and life moved on as it did before. School was just different, and continued remotely since there was not much else anyone could do. Learning to play the piano months before the lockdown helped me pass the time. I spent my time writing some articles for The STEM Club at our school, and occasionally for my own blog. I was becoming quite accustomed to the fact that I was using my devices for a considerable amount of time, mainly for schoolwork. Otherwise, it was off-limits in our house prior to the lockdown.In December 2020, just when there was a glimmer of hope in Kathmandu that everything would be fine, I fell terribly sick. There was very little cough, I was breathing quite fine, but my temperature soared. This was not normal. We did multiple PCR tests, and all of them came back negative. I did not have Covid-19 after all. There was already this conviction in the general public that Covid-19 was a disease that afflicted the elderly, and the feeble. Those with pre-existing health conditions were supposed to be at higher risk, but young, healthier individuals usually fought back the virus. Nothing could go wrong, I assumed. I was dead wrong.Things did get worse. Over a few nights, my symptoms amplified. I was covered in rashes and a persistent abdominal pain. I was grey with fatigue on the day I reached hospital, but worse was yet to come. I stayed for a few check-ups which concluded that there was nothing life-threatening.However, in a matter of a few hours, my liver, heart and lungs were struggling to keep functioning. I had to be shifted to intensive care.In the next few days, I was spewing blood and gradually becoming weaker. It was not long until I was diagnosed with respiratory failure and myocarditis, a swelling of the heart muscle. Before I was put into the ventilator, I told my parents that I would be back soon, uncertain if I would ever see them again. Over the next few days, there was little hope of my survival. But at the nick of time, with the right treatment, I made it back to life after what seemed like eternity.I woke up after being asleep for four days, and was confused and baffled. I was bewildered when I found out that I had been lying there for days in a row with a pipe shoved down my throat and another, advanced to my heart. For the next few days, expressing myself became difficult, and when I tried to speak my voice oddly resembled that of Batman. I also had to learn to walk again, and I suddenly became detached and unhooked from reality. I still didn’t know what had happened to me. What was this odd disease?Later on, I found out that I had been diagnosed with Pediatric Multisystem Inflammatory Syndrome (PMIS), an extremely rare and dangerous disease discovered only in April 2020. However, my diagnosis came full circle, back to Covid-19, and my affliction was associated with the coronavirus. I seem to have been infected by the virus without any discernible symptoms at all, but it was my body’s response to Covid-19 that was more life-threatening than the virus itself. My immune response was the damaging factor, and once the doctors reversed this through other drugs, my condition finally improved. The odds of me getting this disease was highly unlikely, but apparently it can happen to anyone. The ordeal increased my respect and gratitude towards doctors, nurses and all other individuals working at the frontlines during the pandemic. It is indeed a daunting task to be a part of the fight against the global pandemic, and the work done by frontline workers and doctors are absolutely heroic. I am all right now, as I can walk and talk like before. But this experience also taught me about how uncertain things can be in life. Covid-19 has reminded me and many others how to cope with misfortune with courage, fortitude and perseverance. We always need to be grateful for what we have and make the best out of each memory. It has also taught me and many others about how the most unpredictable things can happen at any point in time. With this struggle, I have come to realise how precious life is, and the hurdles we need to overcome at its every step -- like water, dancing in the eddies and trickling down a stream no matter what comes in its way.Nirav Pandey is a 15-year-old student at Rato Bangala School in Kathmandu. A version of this essay was published in Time Magazine under the title <a href="https://time.com/6071300/kids-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">‘A Year Full of Emotions.' What Kids Learned From the COVID-19 Pandemic</a> <img width="90" height="109" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b93a19c7e80680e06f1b5jpeg.jpg" alt="">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/had-covid-beware-of-long-covid/">Had Covid? Beware of Long Covid.</a>, Sajana Baral

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Life lesson from the pandemic

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef674b0ad905ca02efa6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="708"/><figcaption>105-year-old Chandra Kumari Joshi after beating the coronavirus. All photos: JOSHI FAMILY</figcaption></figure>Six weeks ago, the live-in nurse who takes care of my<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1608281673384000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEXylkJd6i9QhI2aGHlWa-nof2rmA"> 105-year-old grandmother-in-law (Muwa)</a> fell ill. She had developed cold-like symptoms and a headache, but not a fever. After she went back home for Tihar, Muwa developed a dry cough, but no fever.She began to take cough medicine, but we also applied every home remedy, steam treatments, turmeric water, honey, ginger, what have you. The fact that this could be indicative of Covid did not even cross my mind because I still somehow believed that having the coronavirus meant high fever. On the third day, Muwa’s cough got better.But then I developed a fever the day before भाइ टिका on 16 November and isolated immediately. I could only  get tested the day after Tihar, and the next day my husband developed a fever as well. My report came back positive 24 hours later, and all other seven members in our house -- including my grandmother-in-law--tested positive.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef6a4b0ad905ca02efa7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="440" height="681"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef6b4b0ad905ca02efa8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="418" height="681">The news of Muwa at her age testing positive was chilling. We had taken every possible precaution, ensured every measure to keep her safe. So the coming days were filled with worry.However, if we could look for a silver lining during this ordeal, it was that we did not need to follow strict measures of isolation, since everyone in our household had tested positive. We had been worrying about making different sleeping, cooking, and bathroom arrangements while we were waiting for all our results to come back, but that was not necessary anymore.So we shut the front gate, and sealed ourselves from the world. No one was allowed in or out. Our daughter and my sister-in-law had left enough essentials on our doorstep to last the duration of our isolation.Of the eight people in our home, my husband and I were the only ones who developed a fever, the others all had only mild symptoms. But while my fever peaked at 100°F, my husband, who is diabetic, had a high fever right from the start. When his oxygen level began to drop, he had to be admitted to hospital where he stayed for two weeks, completing a course of steroid and antibiotic treatments for secondary lung infection.It was an extremely stressful time back at home. On one hand, I worried about my husband alone in the hospital. On the other, I worried over what to tell his grandmother whenever she asked about her grandson.One day, Muwa said, “It’s so lonely here with just you and me.” Maybe she realised that it would just be the two of us in that family from now onwards. So when her grandson returned home after two weeks in hospital, she exclaimed in relief, “Finally, I can see you like this.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef6d4b0ad905ca02efa9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="952"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef704b0ad905ca02efaajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="544"><figcaption>Chandra Kumari Joshi sees her grandson, who recovered from Covid-19 after a hospital stay.</figcaption></figure>Muwa likes to watch the tv news every day, and when she asks, “What happened today?”. She wants us to know how many people died of Covid-19 that day, and we give her the figure.Muwa often asks when her great-grandchildren, who live abroad, are going to come back home. We told her that planes were not flying because the pandemic was spreading all over the world. But since the lockdown was lifted and flights resumed, she sits on the terrace and keenly watches the planes fly by.Some days she notices that there were very few planes. Other days, she muses, “Quite a lot of flights today.” The planes in the sky have become symbols of hope for her to be reunited with her family one day.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef734b0ad905ca02efabjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="438"><figcaption>Chandra Kumari Joshi meets her great-great granddaughter a month after testing positive for the coronavirus.</figcaption></figure>Muwa lost her only daughter-in-law, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1608281673384000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEXylkJd6i9QhI2aGHlWa-nof2rmA">Angurbaba Joshi, </a>during the pandemic. A month after her passing, she lost her sister Binda Shakya with whom she was very close. We broke the news of her passing two months later when Muwa began to ask why her sister had not been visiting.One day, as she was expressing her annoyance over Binda Didi’s continued absence, without thinking I said, “She can’t come anymore.” She immediately asked, “Why? Is she dead?” I answered, “Yes.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191120/636bef754b0ad905ca02efacjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1094">Muwa was inconsolable over the next three weeks. She has begun to forget a lot of things, but she has not forgotten that her sister has passed. In her grief, she has started to reconcile with her own mortality. “My time has come, this is it,” she said one day.The grief of her having outlived  all of her younger siblings, a son, a daughter-in-law, and other loved ones shows clearly on her face. Sometimes, she sees her own longevity as a  curse. “Why hasn’t god taken me away yet?” she asks.Muwa overcame ‘Karuna’ (what she calls the coronavirus, and a Sanskrit word that means ‘compassion’) better than any of us. The doctors have always told us that her lungs and her heart are as healthy as a young woman’s. Her immune system is strong, perhaps from the clean and fresh surroundings and food she grew up with. She has hardened, enduring  a great deal in life, as a child widow, and as an old woman who has seen many loved ones pass on.Muwa’s mental fortitude is a testament to the fact that she is still here with us. Her memories may be blurred, but she is not inactive and silent, and will never be.

How a 105-year-old beat the virus

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be8749c7e80680e08785djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="708"/><figcaption>105-year-old Chandra Kumari Joshi after beating the coronavirus. All photos: JOSHI FAMILY</figcaption></figure>Six weeks ago, the live-in nurse who takes care of my<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1608281673384000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEXylkJd6i9QhI2aGHlWa-nof2rmA"> 105-year-old grandmother-in-law (Muwa)</a> fell ill. She had developed cold-like symptoms and a headache, but not a fever. After she went back home for Tihar, Muwa developed a dry cough, but no fever.She began to take cough medicine, but we also applied every home remedy, steam treatments, turmeric water, honey, ginger, what have you. The fact that this could be indicative of Covid did not even cross my mind because I still somehow believed that having the coronavirus meant high fever. On the third day, Muwa’s cough got better.But then I developed a fever the day before भाइ टिका on 16 November and isolated immediately. I could only  get tested the day after Tihar, and the next day my husband developed a fever as well. My report came back positive 24 hours later, and all other seven members in our house -- including my grandmother-in-law--tested positive.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be8779c7e80680e08785ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="440" height="681"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be8789c7e80680e08785fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="418" height="681">The news of Muwa at her age testing positive was chilling. We had taken every possible precaution, ensured every measure to keep her safe. So the coming days were filled with worry.However, if we could look for a silver lining during this ordeal, it was that we did not need to follow strict measures of isolation, since everyone in our household had tested positive. We had been worrying about making different sleeping, cooking, and bathroom arrangements while we were waiting for all our results to come back, but that was not necessary anymore.So we shut the front gate, and sealed ourselves from the world. No one was allowed in or out. Our daughter and my sister-in-law had left enough essentials on our doorstep to last the duration of our isolation.Of the eight people in our home, my husband and I were the only ones who developed a fever, the others all had only mild symptoms. But while my fever peaked at 100°F, my husband, who is diabetic, had a high fever right from the start. When his oxygen level began to drop, he had to be admitted to hospital where he stayed for two weeks, completing a course of steroid and antibiotic treatments for secondary lung infection.It was an extremely stressful time back at home. On one hand, I worried about my husband alone in the hospital. On the other, I worried over what to tell his grandmother whenever she asked about her grandson.One day, Muwa said, “It’s so lonely here with just you and me.” Maybe she realised that it would just be the two of us in that family from now onwards. So when her grandson returned home after two weeks in hospital, she exclaimed in relief, “Finally, I can see you like this.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be87a9c7e80680e087860jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="952"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be87d9c7e80680e087861jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="544"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Muwa likes to watch the tv news every day, and when she asks, “What happened today?”. She wants us to know how many people died of Covid-19 that day, and we give her the figure.Muwa often asks when her great-grandchildren, who live abroad, are going to come back home. We told her that planes were not flying because the pandemic was spreading all over the world. But since the lockdown was lifted and flights resumed, she sits on the terrace and keenly watches the planes fly by.Some days she notices that there were very few planes. Other days, she muses, “Quite a lot of flights today.” The planes in the sky have become symbols of hope for her to be reunited with her family one day.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be87f9c7e80680e087862jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="438"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Muwa lost her only daughter-in-law, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-runs-the-world-girls/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1608281673384000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEXylkJd6i9QhI2aGHlWa-nof2rmA">Angurbaba Joshi, </a>during the pandemic. A month after her passing, she lost her sister Binda Shakya with whom she was very close. We broke the news of her passing two months later when Muwa began to ask why her sister had not been visiting.One day, as she was expressing her annoyance over Binda Didi’s continued absence, without thinking I said, “She can’t come anymore.” She immediately asked, “Why? Is she dead?” I answered, “Yes.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be8829c7e80680e087863jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1094">Muwa was inconsolable over the next three weeks. She has begun to forget a lot of things, but she has not forgotten that her sister has passed. In her grief, she has started to reconcile with her own mortality. “My time has come, this is it,” she said one day.The grief of her having outlived  all of her younger siblings, a son, a daughter-in-law, and other loved ones shows clearly on her face. Sometimes, she sees her own longevity as a  curse. “Why hasn’t god taken me away yet?” she asks.Muwa overcame ‘Karuna’ (what she calls the coronavirus, and a Sanskrit word that means ‘compassion’) better than any of us. The doctors have always told us that her lungs and her heart are as healthy as a young woman’s. Her immune system is strong, perhaps from the clean and fresh surroundings and food she grew up with. She has hardened, enduring  a great deal in life, as a child widow, and as an old woman who has seen many loved ones pass on.Muwa’s mental fortitude is a testament to the fact that she is still here with us. Her memories may be blurred, but she is not inactive and silent, and will never be.

Nepalis worship the sun, and mark its seasonal passage with festivals. Adding to that spiritual reverence now is the economic relevance of solar power. Fast-flowing Himalayan rivers give Nepal a total feasible hydropower generation capacity of 48,000MW, of which only 3,600 has so far been harnessed. Yet, Nepal’s total solar power potential has been calculated to be nearly 10 times higher at 432,000MW. &nbsp; With over 300 days of sunshine a year, the country could produce 3.6 to 6.2 units of electricity per square meter based on its solar radiation levels.&nbsp; This potential, combined with decreasing installation costs of Chinese-manufactured photovoltaic cells and other means, is a viable and affordable alternative to Nepal’s over-reliance on hydropower which faces concerns about the destruction of riverine ecosystems, as well as risk from glacial lake floods caused by climate breakdown. However, restrictive domestic energy policies and geopolitical sensitivities mean Nepal is failing to diversify fast enough to tap this tremendous solar energy potential. Nepal’s hydropower generation is almost entirely from run-of-river projects that do not have large reservoirs. Many such projects in Nepal and across the Himalaya have been swept away by glacial lake outburst floods in recent years.&nbsp; Such risks and limitations to hydropower should have prompted the Nepal government to jump-start investment into solar farms, but the main reason is that the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) caps solar power at just 10% of total capacity. There is no official explanation, but it is likely due to the outdated perception that solar technology cannot supply a consistent energy stream at evening and morning peak loads.&nbsp; But today, there are plenty of ways around it, including pump storage schemes that use daytime solar power to pump water from a river to a reservoir and drain it to generate electricity at night. Battery technology is now more advanced, and affordable enough to make grid-scale batteries feasible.&nbsp; But then there is an issue of tariffs, which are much lower for solar at Rs5 per energy unit, and competitive bidding forces companies to lower it even further. But there is no bidding process for hydropower and licenses are given out on a first-come, first-served basis with a fixed rate of Rs6.5 per unit regardless of location.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516" data-rendition-name="original" width="1109" height="887" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  SUPPLY VS DEMAND Hydropower is supply-driven, while solar responds to demand, so under such a discouraging scenario, solar power accounts for only 5% of Nepal’s total energy mix. “Given the environmental risks to hydropower, investors are now demanding tariffs on hydropower to be increased. So the question to the government is, are you paying more money for hydropower or willing to buy more of the cheaper solar power,” said energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. Solar investors are lobbying the government to raise the cap on solar power to 30% and expand zoning policies so that solar plants can be built in areas with high potential, such as Dolpo and Mustang in the trans-Himalaya. These regions are sparsely populated, arid, have a cold climate and high solar radiation levels — ideal conditions for photovoltaics. Solar power’s biggest advantage is its cost-effectiveness compared to hydropower, with the operating cost of a hydropower plant up to four times higher than of a solar plant of the same generation capacity. Investors are no longer assured of a return on investment on hydropower due to climate risk which have increased insurance premiums. “Last year, when the government opened a bidding for 800MW of solar power, the private sector was ready to invest 3,000MW. Both banks and investors were convinced about the potential for solar energy, but the government and especially the bureaucracy, was not on the same wavelength,” added Gurung.&nbsp; Interim Energy Minister Kulman Ghising is said to be interested in increasing the cap on solar energy, but there is a question whether he will remain in office since he has launched his only Ujyalo Nepal party to contest elections in March. GEOGRAPHY AND GEOPOLITICS In 2018, Nepal’s only foreign private equity form Dolma Himalayan Climate Fund (DHCF) pitched a proposal to generate 150MW from a solar farm and store 20MW of it in battery systems in Mustang to meet seasonal and daily peaks. It got approval from Investment Board Nepal (IBN) and had already poured millions into the project when the Department of Mines instructed all developers in Mustang to halt their projects, citing the discovery of uranium ore. But insiders say the real reason was due to pressure from the Chinese government’s security concerns about a Western investor being involved so close to the border with Tibet.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="450" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GHAM POWER</figcaption> </figure>  The same thing happened, but in reverse, when the Chinese company Risen Energy was interested in investing $190 million on a grid-connected 125MW photovoltaic generation system in Banke and Kapilvastu districts near the Indian border. Risen’s subsidiary, Risen Energy Singapore JV, was negotiating with IBN to commit $190 million in the project which would also store 20MW of daytime generation for morning and evening peak demand. But the agreement was not signed because the Indian authorities were concerned about Chinese involvement so close to their border. India has also refused to buy electricity from any hydropower plant in Nepal that has Chinese or other foreign investment or contractors. Indian state-owned companies are currently building or planning hydropower plants in Nepal to generate nearly 3,000MW, mostly for export.&nbsp; But not every Chinese-backed project has been blocked. In 2024, China handed over two solar-powered livelihood projects to a local community in Lalitpur — a community solar bathhouse and a rooftop photovoltaic power system. Funded by the Yunnan People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, the projects aim to improve living conditions. The initiative forms part of the Chinese Embassy’s ‘Happy Community’ program (幸福社区, Xìngfú Shèqū) under the China–South Asia Poverty Reduction and Development Cooperation Center.&nbsp; Says Gurung: “Hydropower is a geopolitical mess, but it has well and truly started in solar power too. It now all comes down to how we handle it, and we need deft diplomacy to make sure our projects are not indefinitely delayed as has happened in the past.”&nbsp; LOW-HANGING FRUIT Despite domestic restrictions and geopolitics, there are still small-scale opportunities for solar energy entrepreneurs to cash in, such as net metering. Most industries in Nepal have enough rooftop space to generate 500KW to 1MW of solar energy. Combined, they would generate a substantial amount of energy to feed into the grid. Factories, supermarkets and chain stores are often bankable and trusted by financial institutions from which they could easily get credit.&nbsp; China could also take advantage of Nepal’s high solar power potential. Given that the United States has only imposed a 10% tariff on Nepal, China could set up PV manufacturing plants in Nepal.&nbsp; However, this requires government-to-government which could run into trouble, again because of geopolitics. The same applies for the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism which is a carbon tariff on carbon intensive products, such as steel, cement and some electricity, imported to the European Union.&nbsp; Chinese products have suffered under this mechanism but Chinese products made in Nepal can be competitive in the European market given lower carbon tax for Nepal. Clean energy has long been an area where Nepal hopes to attract Chinese investment — not only in hydropower, but also in solar and wind energy.&nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.&nbsp;

Nepal, here comes the sun

There were two Bhutans on display during Narendra Modi’s visit this month. The first: a trusted partner, modernising rapidly with Indian support, inaugurating hydroelectric projects, and signing healthcare deals. The second: a nation that <a href="https://www.fmreview.org/gazmere-bishwo/#:~:text=In%201990%2D91%2C%20about%20a,are%20therefore%20not%20Bhutanese%20citizens.">ethnically cleansed 17% of its population </a>and has never been held accountable.
Modi chose to see only the <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-concludes-bhutan-visit-with-prayers-for-peace-and-prosperity">first </a>during his <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-announces-rs-4000-cr-concessional-credit-line-to-fund-energy-projects-in-bhutan/articleshow/125253915.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&amp;utm_medium=text&amp;utm_campaign=cppst">11-12 November visit</a>, granting $450 million in credit, offering birthday tributes to Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuk, and inaugurating another hydropower project.
New Delhi has opted for strategic silence on Bhutan’s systematic persecution of the Lhotshampas in the 1990s. The displaced remain scattered across the world and in refugee camps in Nepal, their property seized, their citizenship revoked.&nbsp;
Now, on that same contested land Bhutan is building the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Gelephu Mindful City (GMC)</a>, a megaproject intended to <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-announces-inr-40-billion-credit-line-new-rail-links-and-land-for-bhutanese-temple-in-varanasi">connect directly to Indian infrastructure</a>. The victims are gone, and democratic India’s values remain conspicuously absent.&nbsp;
With no Lhotshampas left to challenge the official narrative and India unwilling to raise it, Bhutan continues to suppress dissent with impunity.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, social media influencer Raghu Pati Subedi was arrested on the Assam side of Gelephu after returning from a visit to relatives in India. His family members reportedly came under intense pressure, including threats of arrest, accusing them of hiding his whereabouts. After his arrest, he was transported to Thimphu and imprisoned.
This was not an isolated incident. It is part of systemic repression that first gained international attention in the 1990s, when over 100,000 Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa were systematically stripped of their citizenship and forcibly exiled. This mass expulsion, which human rights organisations have characterised as ethnic cleansing, created a decades-long refugee crisis that continues to define the regional political and human rights landscape.&nbsp;
EXODUS
The Lhotshampa crisis of the 1990s was not a spontaneous event but the culmination of years of state-led discrimination. Through a series of legislative acts, notably the 1985 Citizenship Act and the 1989 Driglam Namzha, the ‘One Nation, One People’ policy, the Bhutanese state systematically dismantled the rights of its Nepali-speaking citizens.&nbsp;
The use of the Nepali language was suppressed, the traditional dress of the ruling ethnic group was mandated, and citizenship was revoked en masse, rendering a significant portion of the population stateless in their own homeland.
The new manuscript I am editing has harrowing accounts by the authors of those atrocities. The parallels with what happened to Subedi recently are striking and troubling, showing that even after 35 years the regime has not changed its spots. The methods may have evolved, but the repression against dissidents remains disturbingly consistent.
This refugee exodus was an immense and unasked-for burden on Nepal. Despite being a country grappling with its own political instability and limited resources, Nepal accommodated them on humanitarian grounds. Nepal has consistently advocated for a durable solution centered on the refugees’ right to safe, voluntary, and dignified repatriation.
For years, it engaged in bilateral talks with Bhutan, culminating in a joint verification process. However, these efforts ultimately foundered on what Nepal described as ‘continued rigidity and non-implementation of the agreed decisions by the Bhutanese side’.
Nepal fulfilled its moral and humanitarian duty, but the international community largely failed to hold Bhutan accountable. Bhutan’s rulers deflected global attention with the masterful narrative of Gross National Happiness (GNH), while the grim reality in the refugee camps persisted.&nbsp;
Ultimately, with repatriation proving impossible, Nepal acquiesced to a third-country resettlement program led by a group of eight countries, including the United States, Canada, and Australia. From 2007 to 2016, more than 113,500 Bhutanese refugees were resettled in <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/media/nepal-factsheet">one of the largest group resettlement programmes globally</a>, though 6,365 remain in refugee camps in eastern Nepal.
While this solution provided a lifeline for thousands, it was a tragic capitulation to Bhutan’s ethnic homogenisation project. The refugees’ right to return to their homeland has been denied. It is a cautionary tale about the limits of international diplomacy in the face of state intransigence.
Bhutan’s global brand is one of its most successful exports. The <a href="https://www.gnhcentrebhutan.org/">Gross National Happiness </a>doctrine, which promotes holistic well-being over just economic growth, has captivated the Western imagination and policymakers. It offers a vision of a mindful, environmentally conscious, and peaceful Himalayan kingdom. This carefully cultivated image has historically aimed to shield Bhutan from the level of scrutiny applied to other nations with similar human rights records.
The GNH facade, however, cracks under the weight of documented evidence. The same kingdom that champions ‘happiness’ has, for decades, maintained a justice system that human rights groups allege relies on torture, coerced confessions, and draconian laws to silence opposition.
The 1992 National Security Act, with its vague definitions of ‘treasonable acts’ against the Tsa-Wa-Sum (King, Country, and People), has been a primary tool for suppressing political dissent, particularly from the Lhotshampa.
Overlooked by the international community and ignored by global powers including India, in responding robustly to the ethnic cleansing of the 1990s sent a clear message to Thimphu: such actions could be undertaken with impunity. The monarchy emerged unscathed, its reputation burnished rather than tarnished.&nbsp;
This historical impunity now echoes in the case of Raghu Pati Subedi and the <a href="https://www.cijnepal.org/new-list-of-political-prisoners-expected-to-set-off-discussion-on-bhutans-human-rights-record">continued imprisonment of dozens of political prisoners</a> of conscience. The global community’s reluctance to challenge the GNH narrative has, in effect, become a form of complicity.
The arrest and sentencing of a social media influencer demonstrates how old tactics have been adapted for the digital age. Subedi, 40, was a new kind of threat to the state-controlled narrative and he had to be made an example of.&nbsp;
As the founder and administrator of the popular Facebook page ‘The Don of Asia’, he bypassed traditional, state-influenced media to speak directly to about 78,000 followers. His content, informational and satirical videos on rural poverty, corruption, and the GMC project, was the kind of social media activism that was deemed intolerable.
Subedi was arrested in early 2025 and sentenced to 24 years in prison. The charges allegedly stemmed from Subedi’s social media criticism of the GMC, a flagship project of Nepal-born Bhutanese fifth King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.&nbsp;
For <a href="https://thenewamericansmag.com/2024/11/18/the-kings-gelephu-mindfulness-city/#:~:text=Ganga%20Lamitare%2C%20who%20owns%20four,ancestors%20in%20building%20the%20nation.">Bhutanese refugees like Gangaram Lamitare</a>, the GMC represents a bitter irony, a development rising on their confiscated ancestral lands.&nbsp;
Gangaram, who owns four acres where the GMC’s international airport is now under construction, says: “Many people from villages fled at night in 1990, leaving everything behind to escape oppression. Now, the Bhutanese king and ministers are spreading falsehoods worldwide, calling this land vacant, which actually belongs to those forced to leave the country.”&nbsp;
There are signs that international support that has benefited Bhutan may be waning. The United Nations has become increasingly vocal and last year the <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/documents/issues/detention-wg/opinions/session101/a-hrc-wgad-60-2024-bhutan-advance-edited-ve.pdf">UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the detention of several Bhutanese political prisoners was arbitrary and illegal under international law.&nbsp;
In April 2025 from a group of six UN human rights experts raised grave concerns about the use of torture, denial of fair trials, and the ‘severe chilling effect’ of Bhutan’s legal framework on civic space. These developments owe much to the consistent advocacy of the Hague-based Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) since its formation.
However, they also reflect broader shifts in international human rights scrutiny. This places Bhutan’s key international partners, particularly the European Union, in a critical position. Bhutan enjoys lucrative benefits under the EU’s ‘Everything but Arms’ trade scheme, which grants developing countries tariff-free access to the EU market contingent on respect for human rights.&nbsp;
The EU is also a significant provider of development aid to Bhutan which provides it with substantial leverage. In April 2025, members of the <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/saskiabricmont.bsky.social/post/3lmrn5mkmrs2q">European Parliament formally called on Bhutan</a> to release all political prisoners. This action signals a growing recognition that trade and partnership cannot be divorced from human rights obligations.&nbsp;
“Bhutan’s international partners and investors, including the EU, should make it clear that they expect Bhutan to comply with its human rights obligations and release them without further delay,” says Meenakshi Ganguly, of Human Rights Watch.&nbsp;
Bhutan stands at a crossroads. Its desire for deeper global economic integration is colliding with its unresolved history of human rights abuses. The international community now has a choice: either continue being charmed by the myth of a happy shangri-la or insist that the kingdom adheres to democratic values it professes to the world.&nbsp;
Nepal’s recent Gen-Z uprising offers a lesson to Bhutan. In September, when authorities attempted to ban 26 social media, Nepali youth took to the streets and, within hours, toppled the entire pro-establishment political apparatus. Their message was clear: in an age of digital connectivity and mass mobilisation, authoritarian tactics such as detaining social media influencers are both unjust and ultimately unsustainable.
This incident echoes the prophetic warnings of Devi Bhakta Lamitare, Bhutan’s first-generation democratic leader, who died in exile in India in 2022. In his seminal 1970 book
Dankindo Bhutan, Lamitare chronicled the systematic suppression of people’s rights and envisioned a path toward liberation.
Before his death, I worked with him to update and edit this work, which the Bhutan Media Society published posthumously in 2023. In a December 2020 interview I conducted for the book on the Ganga riverbank in Haridwar, Lamitare laid out a stark three-front offensive: political mobilisation from within India to awaken resistance inside Bhutan itself, relentless pressure on New Delhi to champion democracy, and a global ‘pamphlet war’ waged by resettled Bhutanese in the West.&nbsp;
Only through such sustained action, he argues, can Bhutanese citizens win the right to choose their own rulers, a principle India, the world’s largest democracy, should be championing, not abandoning.
Binod Dhungel is the Nepal correspondent for Reporters Without Borders.
<a href="http://linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod" target="_blank">linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod</a>, @BinodDhungel

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

The COP30 climate summit in Brazil ended this week <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cop30-to-cop31">without tangible commitment</a> from countries to reduce fossil fuel emissions. Its impact will be felt halfway around the planet here in Mustang which is already seeing weather extremes.&nbsp; Geographically, Mustang is on the Tibetan Plateau, north of the main Himalayan chain. It is in the rainshadow, and a high altitude desert. Winter snow has failed for eight of the past ten years, unseasonal blizzards, and frequent glacial collapse leading to floods. The Kali Gandaki Corridor follows one of the deepest gorges in the world between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, the world’s seventh and tenth highest peaks. Lush pine forests cover the southern flanks of these mountains, but within a few kilometers the vegetation undergoes a dramatic change to a landscape of red, brown and grey cliffs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It gets more arid the more north you go. Snow and rain in Upper Mustang used to fall mostly in winter, but now there are cloudbursts and blizzards at other times of the year.&nbsp; In the ancient walled city of Lo Manthang, elderly men have gathered at a local tea shop to drink the salted butter tea. Some sip home-made liquor infused with medicinal herbs.&nbsp; The sun has set, the temperature plummets, and the wind howls outside. Everyone agrees it does not snow like it used to any more. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Comings and goings in Mustang</a>, Shrijan Pandey  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The flat mud roofs are leaking because rain is now falling where there used to be snow.</figcaption> </figure>  “The weather has changed drastically over the years,” says Lopsang Tsomfel Bista, Chair of the Lo Dekhar Municipality. “It doesn’t snow in winter, and it falls when it is not supposed to.”&nbsp; Lack of snow means that in spring, the pastures where nomadic herders graze their yaks and goats do not have enough grass. Previously, winter snow on the meadows would seep slowly into the soil with the spring thaw, bringing out fresh grass shoots. &nbsp; In recent years, even if there is winter precipitation, it falls as rain. The soil is not able to soak in rain as efficiently, and torrential downpours increase the risk of soil erosion and floods.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  “There used to be up to 1,500 mountain goats in every village, but now they have stopped keeping livestock,” says Bista. This is due to lack of grass and new lowland diseases moving up the mountains. Mustang has lost 28% of its population between the census in 2011 and 2021, and outmigration also means there are fewer people left to carry on a pastoral lifestyle.&nbsp; “Herders have asked for vet services in their communities because there are new insect-borne diseases,” says Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Winds of change sweep Mustang</a>, Jagannath Adhikari  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The mud walls of monasteries and homes are crumbling because of unseasonal rainfall. </figcaption> </figure>  Mustang is flanked to the east and west by mountains that rise up to 6,000m, and glaciers on their slopes are melting fast, turning into lakes. With the rising temperature, the risk of Glacier Lakes Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has also risen.&nbsp; At the rate global average temperatures are rising, scientists say that the Himalaya will lose up to two-thirds of the remaining ice caps. When glaciers melt, it not just raises the risk from GLOFs but also affects water supply downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1022" height="767" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map NT"> </figure>  FLOODS Ringzin Sangbo Gurung in Chumjung village recalls the devastation caused by a GLOF on 8 July this year that swept away a newly inaugurated bridge. The floodplain is now strewn with boulders and sand brought down by the flood which caused damage worth Rs28 million. The flood also damaged the irrigation canals that feed riverside farms where locals grew potato, buckwheat, millet and spinach. Nyima Wangmo Gurung runs a homestay in Nyamdok village, and says: “We don’t have water when we need it. And there is too much when we don’t need it.”&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  With warming temperatures, farmers in Mustang are growing lowland vegetables which was not possible before in plastic greenhouses. The farms depended on snowmelt in spring to irrigate their fields, but there is less snow to melt in past years. “The last heavy snowfall in winter was about eight years ago, since then we have got little or no snow,” says Tashi Norbu Gurung, Chair of Lo Manthang Rural Municipality. “This affects farmers during the April planting season.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It is not just lack of snowfall that is a problem. Springs have gone dry, and some villages like Dhey have been forced to relocate because life became &nbsp;impossible without water.&nbsp; Villagers of Samjung also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-migration-is-already-happening">migrated</a> to Namashung, near a river when water sources dried up. But now the new settlements are threatened by GLOFs. Karma Gurung, who runs a lodge in Choser, remembers the big flood of 35 years ago which swept away farms and covered them with debris. There have been more frequent, but destructive floods since then in Kagbeni, Lubra and other valleys. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  MUD WALLS Because snowfall has been replaced by rain, Mustang’s traditional mud-wall architecture is now in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">danger of collapsing</a>. The homes here are closely packed, have flat roofs stacked with juniper branches for firewood. With rain in place of snow, the roofs now leak.&nbsp; Women in Thinkar village say their walls are falling apart. Some homes have collapsed, and families forced to move out. Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation says locals need plastic sheets, cement walls and corrugated roofs to cope with the rain.&nbsp; But this would mean that Mustang’s villages would lose their traditional architecture style.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The ancient 1.5m thick mud walls around Lo Manthang built 600 years ago, the king’s palace, and monasteries are also at risk. “Changes in precipitation patterns, altering the intensity, frequency, and timing of rainfall and snowfall, have damaged traditional and cultural infrastructure, particularly mud-built private and public buildings as well as religious and heritage sites,” explains Bhawani Pandey at the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. “With the rain, and because the monuments and stupas are made from mud, they have eroded. There is leakage, and the monuments are in a dilapidated condition.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure/" target="_blank">Climate-smarter Himalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The Lo Manthang Rural Municipality along with Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, are working on a Local Adaptation Plan of Action and the Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan, which the Nepal government has made mandatory for every municipality. “We took a bottom-up approach and collected data from each village, they know best the impact of climate change and what their needs are,” says Yangchen Gurung. To address the hazards of climate change, local communities and municipalities are adapting through their own resources, without waiting for outside help to improve water conservation, control soil erosion and protect from flood.&nbsp; Says Pandey, “We are returning to conserving traditional drought-resistant crop varieties, organic pest and disease control, cultivating high-value crops and fruits, and practicing sustainable pasture management through rotational grazing. We have also developed new building codes for homes that incorporate water-resistant coating for mud roofs and walls.” &nbsp; Additional Reporting by Tashi Wangyal. &nbsp;

Too little snow, too much rain

Groundwater is like a phone battery, it needs to be regularly recharged. As springs go dry across the Himalayan foothills due to over-extraction and climate change, communities in eastern Nepal are reviving traditional knowledge to replenish aquifers. The town of Dhankuta is located along the spine of a ridge and is struggling with its water supply. Unregulated pumping is one reason, and weather extremes due to climate breakdown is the other. Since water is so important for life, necessity has become the mother of invention here. More accurately, it is the mother of re-invention — since recharging ground water is a traditional practice that has been discontinued. Communities are practicing sustainable water management again by reviving recharge ponds that had fallen into disuse as well as rainwater recycling. Some of these indigenous practices have eroded over time with outmigration and modernisation. The nearby village of Khambela is dominated by the indigenous Aathpahariya Rai community and is building on its ancestral practice of rainwater harvesting with new technology developed by the group, SmartPaani.&nbsp; Households collect rainwater during four monsoon months in tanks of up to 10,000 litres for household use and irrigating &nbsp;vegetable patches in the dry season.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_b48e18e9c85ed460210d475041dce6ba5917ab31db0a16aca2c8e0f0356c9038.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251124031112_b48e18e9c85ed460210d475041dce6ba5917ab31db0a16aca2c8e0f0356c9038" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> </figure>  “The rainwater harvesting installation here uses a rapid sand filter system that allows rainwater to move rapidly through the builtin filtration unit,” says Jyotsna Lama from Kathmandu-based SmartPaani. “The clean water is stored in tanks for future use.” The initiative is supported by the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) and local municipalities. Local households contribute Rs50 a month for maintenance. “During the rainy season there is enough water in the wells and springs,” says a local farmer Sangita Rai. “But storing monsoon rain is enough to last the whole dry season.” Dhankuta town itself has a recharge pond at Sukepokhari, which itself means ‘dry pond’. &nbsp;The 24m diameter pond can hold up to 200,000 litres and lets it seep slowly to recharge the aquifer. One in four springs in &nbsp;Dhankuta have dried up, and Sukepokhari is helping revive them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_0db2a186eec5194d37492066e6d0b939569254e8feca6c6dd757d28147267b2f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251124031112_0db2a186eec5194d37492066e6d0b939569254e8feca6c6dd757d28147267b2f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Sukepokhari</figcaption> </figure>  The mountains around Dhankuta act like a sponge, absorbing water in the dry season and letting it out through springs. But water started becoming scarce when the town’s expanding population started pumping up water. Plastic waste and other pollutants contaminated the remaining water. Sukepokhari’s caretaker is Krishna Kumar Thakuri, fondly known as ‘Pani Ba’ by locals who regard him as a passionate father figure. He regularly monitors rainfall and the water level in the pond to gauge how much of it is seeping into the ground to recharge the groundwater.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112403118_b412598c4473f2bb33900bab7e2084f584e7e88c1a92f6b9c09e940e23e4ce29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025112403118_b412598c4473f2bb33900bab7e2084f584e7e88c1a92f6b9c09e940e23e4ce29" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Caretaker of Sukepokhari Krishna Kumar Thakuri fondly known as Pani Ba.</figcaption> </figure>  “We harvest rain that falls in the surrounding slopes,” explains Thakuri. “But a lot of leaves, vegetation and sediment also flows into the pond and has to be desilted every year.” The pond provides drinking water to around 150-200 households and enables irrigation to 10 households in surrounding areas. Water from the pond further flows and supports springs down the mountains.&nbsp; Off the walking trail is Dale Pokhari, another recharge pond in the scenic village of Dhojedanda. After the pond was revived two springs sprang back into life again, supplying water to six households. “There used to be multiple springs and water sources, and biodiversity was diverse, but as people started to dig up wells and drag water sources to their homes via plastic pipes, the water sources started drying up,” explains Phurba Sherpa. But now there is more water flowing out of springs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_dd71cdc337f6275b179fdab9ded358a1dcdb53c5e286d493aa2182e3f35ce32e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251124031112_dd71cdc337f6275b179fdab9ded358a1dcdb53c5e286d493aa2182e3f35ce32e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Dalepokhari</figcaption> </figure>  WATER IS LIFE Syaule-Sipting Homestay in Dhankuta has been using water sustainably after facing shortages. It has now built a bio-sand filtration system in the water tanks, so that water is safe for use by four households One of the homestays also uses a rainwater harvesting system. While the bio-sand and rainwater harvesting are used for cooking, washing and other purposes, table top filtration systems are used for drinking. Adequate safe drinking water is also helpful to revive the area’s eco-tourism potential. Safe drinking water is important so visitors are not turned off, says Anu K Lama of ICIMOD. She adds, “Health and hygiene are important for everyone. But foreigners do not have the strong immune system that locals have. Clean and adequate supply is necessary especially if we are targetting foreign guests.”

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Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

Too little snow, too much rain

Storing rain inside mountains