By sacking the person that many Nepalis credit for ending<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/power-cuts-are-back-in-nepal"> prolonged daily power cuts</a>, the coalition led by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-government-changes-again">Prime Minister KP Oli </a>has added fuel to the fire as anti-government forces plan protests in the coming weeks. A Cabinet meeting on Monday decided to replace the Executive Director of the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA)<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/transformer-man"> Kulman Ghising</a> with Hitendra Dev Shakya. There is a sense of deja vu since both men led <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9409">the NEA</a> in previous stints. &nbsp;Ghising had been NEA chief in 2016 and again in 2021, when he had replaced Shakya. Ghising is backed by Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoist Centre, which is now in the opposition, and Shakya is regarded as being close to Oli’s UML. Relations between Ghising and Energy Minister Dipak Khadka have been strained for the past year after the NEA cut off <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-electricity-demand-soars">electricity supply</a> to industries for failing to pay dues dating back to 2016. At the time, factories were provided uninterrupted power from dedicated lines, while the rest of the country suffered power cuts sometimes lasting 18 hours a day.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250326070312_593aa13f73deedb75404e18be27a97c718c3486d67ba3bdcc6a9c7aa0405a4d7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250326070312_593aa13f73deedb75404e18be27a97c718c3486d67ba3bdcc6a9c7aa0405a4d7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1204" height="390" loading="lazy" alt="NEA"> </figure>  Industrialists cried foul and appealed to Minister Khadka and Prime Minister Oli, contesting the NEA’s overdue bill. Khadka, who is from the Nepali Congress (NC), is himself a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/missing-pieces-of-the-hydropower-jigsaw">hydropower </a>entrepreneur and his appointment as energy Minister was seen as conflict of interest. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/kulman-ghising-to-stay-on?fb_comment_id=3199622240152768_3199919450123047">Ghising is largely credited </a>for having ‘ended loadshedding’ because he redirected electricity from industry to households -- even though imports from India and increase in installed capacity worked in his favour. Following Ghising’s dismissal, there were protests at Kathmandu’s Mandala intersection on Tuesday with demonstrators holding placards that read: ‘Kulman Ghising: Architect of a Bright Nepal’. Even members of the coalition government opposed Ghising’s sacking. Information Minister and government spokesperson Prithvi Subba Gurung on Monday said pointedly that he had no knowledge of Ghising’s removal. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kulman-ghising-s-tenure-at-nea-in-doubt">Kulman Ghising’s tenure at NEA in doubt</a>, Ramesh Kumar Energy Minister Khadka has sought clarification several times from Ghising, accusing him of ‘insubordination’, and his main gripe was that the NEA chief worked ‘arbitrarily’ on back-pay tariffs from industrialists and making <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-india-power-play">energy agreements with India</a> on his own.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250325100352_3b03eec43ea6d58b854939cb3bccdec627c381d03abc58f3aba333b2c577add2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250325100352_3b03eec43ea6d58b854939cb3bccdec627c381d03abc58f3aba333b2c577add2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1347" height="923" loading="lazy" alt="Sacking of NEA chief exposes cronyism"> </figure>  He did not like Ghising going off to India to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/blueprint-for-nepal-india-electricity-trade">power trade</a>, and questioned his authority to make deals bypassing the ministry. The minister even gave Ghising a performance ‘report card’ in which he was given zero out of 100. Speaking in Parliament on Sunday, Khadka warned that Nepalis would <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/power-cuts-nepal-here-to-stay,1701">once more have to suffer load shedding </a>because of Ghising. “We are in a situation where households may soon face power cuts. So Kulman isn’t really the hero bringer of light,” said Khadka, in remarks that were lampooned on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-social-media-contagion">social media </a>and newspaper cartoons.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250325100356_8b8eceb3a1d39f694ba38aba750ada91e648ca0a8451b2071169951d1833f732.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250325100356_8b8eceb3a1d39f694ba38aba750ada91e648ca0a8451b2071169951d1833f732" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="514" loading="lazy" alt="Cartoon in Kantipur by Abin Shrestha"> <figcaption>Cartoon in Kantipur by Abin Shrestha.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250325100356_dc19b92815359a91c6daa23d28f89a017af9aca6d97491a276e7d5d19d6fd9b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250325100356_dc19b92815359a91c6daa23d28f89a017af9aca6d97491a276e7d5d19d6fd9b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="514" height="600" loading="lazy" alt="Front page of Naya Patrika "> <figcaption>Front page of Naya Patrika newspaper on Monday morning with coverage sympathetic to Kulman Ghising.</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-suffers-another-winter-drought">A prolonged winter drought </a>and below-normal precipitation in March means <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/geopolitics-of-nepal-s-rivers">Nepal’s rivers </a>are running low, reducing the installed capacity of the mainly run-of-river <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-1st-hydroelectric-plant-is-a-museum-piece">hydropower plants</a> by one-third. In addition some of the bigger plants like the 456MW Tama Kosi were damaged in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">last September’s floods</a>. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/spring-returns-to-nepal-s-mountaineering">spring season</a> shortfall coincided with India announcing it could not export electricity to Nepal during peak hours because of its own domestic demand. Ghising and Khadka appeared to be negotiating separately with India on increasing<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balance-of-power"> power export to Nepal</a>, and often seemed to work at cross purposes. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/more-than-half-of-nepal-s-electricity-imported-from-india">More than half of Nepal’s electricity imported from India</a> The NEA under Ghising had been making up for the power deficit by cutting electricity to industries to maintain household supply. This month, industrial corridors in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">the Tarai </a>have been suffering power cuts from 6pm to 6am, forcing them to use diesel generators. These cuts have added to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-s-tourism-woes">woes of powerful businesses</a> which NEA had been pursuing to pay their back dues. Industrialists had been putting pressure on the government to rein in Ghising. Two industries did play part of the sums they owed to NEA last week, just before Ghising got the sack. &nbsp; Ghising had wide support in<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-not-so-unhappy"> Nepal’s public sphere</a>, with some speculating that he may have political ambitions. Which could be another reason that the UML and NC are wary of him, since he could be a Maoist candidate in the next elections. Ghising has said he will contest his dismissal in court.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250325100356_1ab203b400602f8780bbffd35970df35f927d2c66fc3c68be67f443f7dcd327b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_26" data-image-id="20250325100356_1ab203b400602f8780bbffd35970df35f927d2c66fc3c68be67f443f7dcd327b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1069" loading="lazy" alt="Sacking of NEA chief exposes cronyism"> </figure>  It was during Ghising’s 2016 stint that he solved, seemingly overnight, debilitating power cuts. No doubt, he had some luck in timing, but being an electrical engineer himself also invested in upgrading transmission and distribution. “Some things were in place when Kulman Ghising came in, but what he did first was to free up 400MW from the dedicated line to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9511">industrialists,</a>” recalls energy expert Kumar Pandey. Ghising also benefited from the completion of the 140km transmission line from Dhalkebar to Muzaffarpur in India, which meant Indian exports could make up for the shortfall, allowing NEA to end power cuts to households. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-they-kept-nepal-in-the-dark-ages">How they kept Nepal in the dark ages</a> “He also arranged power cables to reroute energy distribution within the country, which was huge,” says Pandey. All of these actions freed up to 700MW in the evening, which Ghising was able to redistribute to the public. Ghising is also credited with effective negotiations with India to increase the export of 1000MW of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-precious-electricity-going-waste">Nepal’s surplus electricity</a> in the monsoon – despite India refusing to buy power from plants with Chinese investment or contractors. Electricity exports allowed NEA to go from being a loss-making entity to earning a profit of Rs11.36 billion over Rs53.18 billion in sales. “Bad infrastructure was causing localised power cuts. A transformer in Kohalpur would burn up and wouldn’t be fixed for a month, and we had no spares,” Ghising told a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xy-yWmi4wCc">YouTube interview</a> two days before his removal. “<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11138">Loadshedding </a>was also causing more loadshedding because consumption would soar when electricity was restored.” Ultimately, his dismissal reeks of politics, the business interest cronies and clashing egos. The only silver lining seems to be that Ghising’s replacement Hitendra Dev Shakya is also a grid development and power sector expert, and knows the sector well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250325100356_836599bd3bcdb4d3d8f91d3f74dabe3c2976eb359690920377b7385904946ca7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_32" data-image-id="20250325100356_836599bd3bcdb4d3d8f91d3f74dabe3c2976eb359690920377b7385904946ca7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1419" height="946" loading="lazy" alt="Sacking of NEA chief exposes cronyism"> </figure>  Asking Ghising to ‘explain why he shouldn’t be removed from his position for insubordination’ essentially proved that this was a power play, and the NEA chief had to be removed because he was a ‘Maoist man’. However, the removal of a popular technocrat from the NEA could further anger Nepalis who are already disillusioned with established political parties and their cronyism. &nbsp;One barometer of public frustration is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal">growing support on the streets even for pro-monarchist forces</a> led by the RPP and RPP-N who are planning further nationwide rallies next month.

Vishad Raj Onta

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Sacking of NEA chief exposes cronyism

A cabinet meeting last week appointed former journalist Sharad Ojha as the chair of the Nepal Insurance Authority, the regulator of the sector. Ojha has no qualifications for the post as required by Nepal’s Insurance Act.&nbsp;
His family ties to Nepali Congress president <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deuba-5-qh371fm4">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a> has been cited as the reason he got to bypass appointment criteria.
This is just the latest example. Bending the law to appoint <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-crony-communism-exposed">cronies</a> and special interest groups to leadership positions in regulatory bodies has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/crony-communism">become the norm in Nepal</a>.
Ojha’s predecessor was former Home Secretary Surya Prasad Silwal, who was suspended two months before the end of his term in December after the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ciaa-traps-small-fish-lets-big-ones-go">Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA)</a> filed a corruption case against him in the Special Court. Days after Ojha’s appointment, the court cleared Silwal of corruption charges.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/search?q=corruption+case">Nepal’s corruption carousel</a>
Before Silwal, the Nepal Insurance Authority was led by Chiranjivi Chapagain, a relative of Chandra Dhakal of the IME Group. Chapagain is accused of granting approval to 10 insurance companies under dubious circumstances and favouring <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/ime-insurance">IME Life Insurance’</a>s approval.
Meanwhile, intense lobbying by interest groups with ties to both <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-government-changes-again">Prime Minister Oli</a> and PM-in-waiting Deuba allowed Santosh Narayan Shrestha’s appointment as the chair of the Securities and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON) in December. Shrestha promptly paid his dues to the groups that put him in office by making preparations to grant them permission to operate stock exchange.
Shrestha was preceded by hotelier Ramesh Kumar Hamal, the recommendation procedure and committee for whom were changed to ensure his appointment.
During his tenure, Hamal hastily amended a law that allowed specific companies to sell premium stocks amid ongoing debates, &nbsp;and another one allowing the operation of stock exchanges with private sector investment instead of public companies. None of this raised eyebrows.
Hamal’s predecessor Bhishma Raj Dhungana, a former Nepal Rastra Bank official, was dismissed as SEBON chair following allegations of irregularities.&nbsp;
Most of these recent individuals were appointed heads of regulatory bodies under PM Oli and Finance Minister Bishnu Paudel and probably at their behest.
The appointments at the Nepal Insurance Authority and SEBON reflect a blatant disregard for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary">rule of law</a>. Such practice is also rampant in the cooperatives and real estate sectors, where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-risks-being-blacklisted-on-money-laundering">illegal financial dealings</a> and bad faith business is modus operandi.
Meanwhile, Energy Minister Deepak Khadka, also a hydropower entrepreneur, is set on ousting <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/more-than-half-of-nepal-s-electricity-imported-from-india">Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA)</a> managing director <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/kulman-ghising-to-stay-on">Kulman Ghising</a>. He previously ordered the removal of Dudhkoshi Hydropower Project CEO Bimal Gurung for criticising him on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-comment">social media</a>.&nbsp;
The minister has a major conflict of interest because of his involvement in private energy sector, and is pressuring parliamentary committees and regulatory bodies to amend the law to allow the sale of 50% of the shares of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/missing-pieces-of-the-hydropower-jigsaw">hydropower projects </a>during the so-called 'lock-in period', which prevents the sale of promoter shares.
Now, lobbyists have set their sights on the Nepal Rastra Bank (NRB). Maha Prasad Adhikari’s tenure ends in April, and the same groups behind the appointment of the chiefs of regulatory bodies like SEBON and Nepal Insurance Authority are going door to door of governing coalition leaders to have their candidate appointed.&nbsp;
The book Why Nations Fail by Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson—co-winners of last year’s Nobel Prize for Economics with economist Simon Johnson—describes how public institutions are misused, weakened, and pushed toward failure by those with access to power.
Regulatory bodies are crucial to maintaining fair competition and ethical market practices. They exist to serve Nepal’s public. However, they are being deliberately undermined by special interest groups paying off authorities for plum positions that will enrich them and their political patrons. &nbsp;
The government ordered the Department of Money Laundering to ‘wait’ as the body sought permission to take action against Ajeya Sumargi for illicit dealing.
It was thus unsurprising that the Financial Action Task Force (FATF) placed Nepal on its grey list in February for failing to take effective and result-oriented action to prevent money laundering.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/black-white-and-grey">Black, white and grey</a>, Ramesh Kumar
The international community has raised a red flag against malgovernance, political interference, conflicts of interest, and impunity. The world is watching, but Nepal’s politico-corporate interests are too deep in greed to care.
Ramesh Kumar

Public-Private Collusion

‘Do you want people to have access to telephony or do you want to fight corruption? If you want to fight corruption, these people will be completely cut off from information highway for the rest of their lives, okay, full stop. Make up your mind.’ British businessman and self-proclaimed ‘thought leader’ Mohamed Amersi sits across from The Guardian journalist Tom Burgis at his lawyer’s offices in London as he makes this matter-of-fact statement.&nbsp; Amersi was referring to the dealings of Nepali businessman and fixer<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=776#google_vignette"> Ajeya Sumargi</a>, one of the many subjects of his 2024 book Cuckooland: Where the Rich Own the Truth. This is Burgis’ third book, and he weaves a fast-paced tale with investigative reporting to chart the deal-making career of Amersi in the global telecommunication industry. The investigation traces Amersi’s backroom deals with associates of Russian president Vladimir Putin to Gulnara Karimova, the daughter of an Uzbek dictator. Inevitably, Burgis follows the trail to Nepal where a former Maoist commander turned prime minister wants to strike a deal with Lars Nyberg of the Swedish-Finnish firm TeliaSonera to break into the emerging market. Burgis' account of Amersi’s dealings in Nepal begins with the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy"> royal massacre</a> in 2001 and Gyanendra’s ascension to power. The new king stages a coup in 2005 and reimposes absolute monarchy, and on this new stage enters Ajeya Sumargi.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers">Nepal’s richest man in the Pandora Papers&nbsp;</a> Sumargi starts out a smalltime businessman in Hetauda but soon climbs into the circle of movers and shakers in Kathmandu. He is self-made and has made a vocation out of knowing the right people in right places.&nbsp; And the right person to know in Nepal’s new political landscape was Gyanendra’s son-in-law, for whom Sumargi becomes a fixer, ensuring he becomes indispensable. Eventually this leads into his foray into telecoms just as mobile telephony was making inroads in Nepal. But Nepalis are sick of the conflict that had claimed 17,000 lives and of an authoritarian king. A people’s movement in April 2006 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/lost-decade-of-post-conflict-transition,2139">forced Gyanendra out</a>, and the Maoists were subsequently elected to a Constituent Assembly.&nbsp; By then Sumargi had switched sides and sidled up to Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal (aka Prachanda, the Fierce One) Both are pictured, above. He is soon cleaning up illicit funds the Maoists allegedly purloined from stipends meant for former guerrillas in UN-supervised demobilisation camps.&nbsp; Sumargi arranges luxury lodgings in Lazimpat for Dahal in a house purchased in the name of his sister-in-law. Sumargi’s proximity to power earns him a license for Hello Nepal.&nbsp; Enter: TeliaSonera, which at the time also owns and operates Kcell in Kazakhstan and Ucell in Uzbekistan, and Ncell which it acquired in 2008 in Nepal. At a meeting with TeliaSonera boss Lars Nyberg, Prime Minister Dahal suggests purchasing Hello Nepal to make the pesky issue of license renewal go away. Sumargi opens the doors. Telia Sonera opens its wallet. And Sumargi, says the book, coolly pockets $74 million from TeliaSonera’s acquisition of Hello Nepal. He greases the right palms, makes TeliaSonera’s problems go away, and prepares to become an additional $200 million richer.&nbsp; TeliaSonera’s operations in Uzbekistan unravelled after Swedish investigators found it had negotiated with the Uzbek president’s daughter Karimova to obtain licenses and frequencies in return for millions in bribes. Nyberg resigned, and the new management debated whether to pull out of Nepal too.&nbsp; Amersi is unhappy, Sumargi is livid and threatens to sue. Burgis writes that in the end ‘friendship prevails’-- Sumargi is compensated and TeliaSonera’s new directors bury the findings of the investigation into their Nepal operation. After the scandal, TeliaSonera rebranded itself as Telia and divested from Ncell, selling its majority stake to Malaysian conglomerate Axiata for $1.36 billion in 2016.&nbsp; Was Sumargi able to channel the ill-gotten wealth of Maoist leaders through his dealings with Amersi and Co, and if so, how much? Burgis is not able to tell: ‘Whether any of the riches Mohamed Amersi helped to guide towards Sumargi were shared with the Fierce One and the other Maoist leaders, I cannot definitively say.’ In any case, Sumargi offloaded the millions he made from the TeliaSonera deal to his offshore accounts, adding to his considerable wealth, as documented in a 2019 investigation by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) and Centre for Investigative Journalists Nepal (CIJ-N). Amersi, meanwhile, went on to speak at a University of Oxford event about tackling <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-s-corruption-carousel">corruption</a>. The irony is not lost. He is now among the major donors to the British Conservative Party, and rubs shoulders with the likes of Boris Johnson and King Charles. Much of the book is based on the author’s conversation with Amersi in 2023 at his lawyer’s offices, where he was invited by Amersi himself in order to ‘set the record straight’ after an ex-Conservative Party MP questioned his iffy financial dealings. In words that would prove to be more relevant than ever, Burgis writes . ‘Everywhere, the powerful are making a renewed claim to the greatest prize of all: to own the truth. The power to choose what you want reality to be and impose that reality on the world.’&nbsp; The footnotes in Cuckooland contain Burgis’ often derisive, wry commentary on Amersi’s indignant, expletive-laden interjections during his interviews. The footnotes are as interesting as the book’s revelations about Nepal’s crony communism. &nbsp; ‘Your agenda is biased against me, and so you are looking for skeletons,’ Amersi insists to Burgis during one of his tirades. ‘Write your book and you’ll see what happens to it,’ he says during another. The underworld that Burgis has shined his light on is bleak. The lines between <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Kleptocracy-kills,3161">kleptocracy</a> and democracy are blurred, corruption runs rampant, and accountability and truth are lost to the wheeling-dealings that enrich oligarchs.&nbsp; Given the apathy and silence that has greeted the explosive revelations in Cuckooland, perhaps Nepalis would rather have access to telephony than fight corruption. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220121232_6b15740b65e4feddfc0afc9972cbfcee1852b8442338be2d2d697dc2357c7727.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220121232_6b15740b65e4feddfc0afc9972cbfcee1852b8442338be2d2d697dc2357c7727" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Cuckooland"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Shristi Karki

Nepal’s crony-Communism exposed

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc189c7e80680e0a0b6ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="620" height="364"/><figcaption>Illustration: NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>The cause of prolonged political paralysis in Nepal is cronyism, and the only way to uproot it is by tackling its source: vote-buying and campaigns funded by big business.The criminalisation of politics and the politicisation of crime means that it is becoming more and more difficult to separate business and politics. None of the parties are free of this cronyism which fuels corruption, and the business of politics.Those being investigated or convicted by the courts and criminals on the wanted list walk freely in and out of the prime minister’s residence. Lawbreakers become lawmakers. Gangsters become ministers.Post-1990, there have been many ways to get into politics: student union leaders and dropouts become whole-timers, retired bureaucrats try their second innings by joining parties, and the really smart ones take the short-cut to become legislators and ministers without even standing for elections. They buy their way to the top.Idealism has become a fairy tale. Politics without principle is possible, but politics without money is unimaginable. Political integrity has become an oxymoron. No matter how popular or honest politicians may be, they cannot win elections without financial backing. And the cash comes from businesses seeking a healthy return on investment.There are two ways to seek ROI from politics. Firstly, by offering a straightforward donation (a bribe in polite parlance) to a politician standing for elections and demanding a pound of flesh later. The second is to offer an even heftier ‘campaign contribution’ to directly become a nominated MP from that party without ever contesting an election.The constitutional provision to ensure proportional representation for marginalised communities has become the backdoor for tycoons to enter the House chambers.Education entrepreneur Umesh Shrestha became an MP through proportional representation, and he is now state minister for health.This was one of Sher Bahadur Deuba’s first ministerial appointments after assuming office two weeks ago, and one he took without consulting his party or coalition members, and it has understandably been met with much flak.Shrestha is a self-made but wealthy man, and has announced he will not take a salary as minister. Unlike politicians, he may be less tempted by petty payoffs. However, appointing someone who is setting up a chain of private hospitals to the Health Ministry is akin to putting a fox in charge of the chicken coop. The conflict of interest has sent a clear message to the public: anything goes in Nepal’s crony capitalism.Deuba had earlier appointed Shrestha as MP from the Nepali Congress reserve quota after the second Constituent Assembly election in 2013, and the private school operator sat in the Education Committee of the legislature.The prime minister has not been able to give a clear rationale for appointing Shrestha, and after widespread criticism of the move, he said rather ambiguously: “It won’t happen again.” It is clear that Shrestha is being rewarded for being a major party donor.This week, the Ministry of Health under the new businessman-turned-state minister announced that the private sector can import Covid-19 vaccines. How does this make sense when there are G2G agreements in place, COVAX doses are in the pipeline, and private importers will be competing with the government for vaccines from the same global supply chain?We can give Shrestha the benefit of doubt, and argue that the boy who came from Bhojpur to Kathmandu in his flip-flops to build a business empire, may be better at managing healthcare delivery than clueless and corrupt politicians who have been ministers before.In fact, if there is blame to be placed on anyone, it should be on an expensive system that allows greedy political actors to elevate their cronies to important positions in government.Who is next, Nepal’s richest man <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binod_Chaudhary" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binod_Chaudhary&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1628230509987000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHy8AJanSbKIsOE1kgjHV6i5VpGaQ">Binod Chaudhary</a> who is also a NC donor and MP?All this is nothing new, of course. Prime Minister K P Oli also promoted his favourite cronies, and appointed industrialist Moti Dugad minister. Cronyism was also in full display in the Gandaki Province drama last month: Dobate Biswakarma was all set to become the only Dalit minister in the provincial government, but he was suddenly supplanted by Bindu Thapa, a Deuba loyalist rewarded for his generous contributions to the party.When Nepal’s development is driven by sand mining magnates, quarry tycoons, and infrastructure contractors, it is no surprise that politics is also contracted out. This is why for politicians, ‘prosperity’ is measured by highways, bridges, view tower contracts, and not by quality schools, accessible health care and meaningful jobs for young Nepalis.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1628230509987000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFjiW9tcKmZX0bJuBB7Bmhx_i7SCA">An investigation in this paper</a> after the 2017 elections showed that up to 40% of elected local government representatives were contractors who now rent out their own excavators and tipper trucks to themselves. This is behind the recent spurt of destructive road-building and unregulated natural resource exploitation.The way to address this rot is to stop allowing Nepal’s richest businessmen from using the quota for indigenous and ethnic minorities to become unelected ministers. The ballot box is not a cash box, and for Nepal’s equitable progress, the next election must stop votes being bought with notes.Transliteration of Shekhar Kharel’s <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125267" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125267&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1628230509987000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFdMPoAPlyZ3H5OCibSylDZy-9_mA">original op-ed in Himal Khabar</a> by Aryan Sitaula.

The business of politics in Nepal

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

Sky is the limit

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

We walk past familiar neighbourhoods and wonder how much it has changed. An ongoing exhibition at The Kalā Salon titled Changing Times by The Pagoda Group aims to do just that -- capture ever-changing society within a captivating display of colourful canvases. Brick-lined houses, local tea shops, ancient temples, quiet devotion are themes in Pradhumna Shrestha’s series Shangri-La, much of which is an imagined past filled with nostalgia of the place he grew up in. By keeping people out of the frame, he allows space for what he calls a divine aura to surface.&nbsp; “I was born and brought up here and my canvases echo the nostalgia of cities like Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur which are dense with myth, folklore, religion, and an ever-present divinity. All of this is truly what is ours, and we must treasure it,” says Shrestha. “Whatever I truly felt in my heart, I translated it into my work.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1036" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  The swirling clouds that drift across Shrestha’s canvases borrow from thangka and paubha traditions, lending the scenes a sense of mysticism and otherworldliness. Within this dreamscape are red circular forms which represent wheels of chariots. &nbsp;The presence of divinity dominates from above, its presence asserted in soft blue brushstrokes below, as if the deity’s gaze itself has seeped into the land. Gods linger as guardians and temples hum with enigma in his paintings. In his much earlier work, Cultural Bond, a lakhe masked dancer bursts forward in vibrant red, dancing against a backdrop of molten gold clouds. The lakhe’s trance signifies protection and where it steps, the evil cannot follow. Hence, the skulls that surround but never fall beneath its feet but, one leg hangs suspended in midair, suggesting uncertainty, raising questions.&nbsp; Is this a symbol of culture and tradition, secure, or is it endangered by modernity? The work captures a society at a crossroads, honouring tradition while grappling with the risk of drifting away from it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="979" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In Panchatatva Mandala, Pasang Bikram Lama fuses two mandalas into a single visual meditation, suggesting unity where each colour carries symbolic weight: yellow evokes the soil of the earth, blue flows as water, red burns with fire, and black opens into the vastness of the spatial sky. Together, these elements form a quiet cosmology that speaks of creation and dissolution, of life folding endlessly into death and returning again. Says Lama, “Everyone has a mandala of their own being, and the elements represent their cycle of life.” Mala Shrestha’s works Water of the Divine Mother and The Spirit of Serenity unfold in a dreamy and delicate fusion of nature and religion, suggesting that divine forms are not separate from the natural world. Trees and branch-like motifs appear as origins of sacred sculptures and spiritual presences.&nbsp; Her goddesses, adorned in alluring ornaments, emerge from trunks and streams, painted in aqua green, pink pastels, and rustic browns, as if grown rather than created, affirming that the divine is inseparable from nature and present everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Kishor Nakarmi’s Essence of Nepal, where Gautam Buddha appears embedded within leaves, brick walls, birds, and wilderness, dissolving boundaries between the sacred and the earthly. These canvases radiate calm and their subtlety is enriched by finely observed details. Similarly, Rudra Bahadur Pun captures the vitality of mask dances and ritual movements found in the monasteries of Mustang, weaving together tradition, landscape, and daily life. The essence of the exhibition comes together in Roshan Pradhan’s works. His paintings reflect a contemporary tension where technology collides with ancestral myth and the power of tradition. A fierce Garud rises within a landscape saturated by technological apparatuses, while at its feet a human form representing AI clings tightly, attempting to assert control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In another work, Bhairab confronts a human embodiment of AI in a theatrical standoff, with the deity ultimately prevailing, reaffirming endurance over technological dominance. The human figures in Pradhan’s paintings are drawn from life with his friends volunteering as models, photographed and later translated onto canvas.&nbsp; “Technology has taken over our lives. Many can probably not even imagine life without it now. But, culture, too, is integral to human existence. Our life would be much different without our culture; it is a part of us,” notes the artist. Rather than framing technology as purely antagonistic, Pradhan explores coexistence, and while acknowledging its destructive potential, he affirms his belief in the power of our myths and traditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Pradhan adds, “These paintings are also an archive of its time. Viewers centuries from now may read these paintings as records of the age we inhabit. While technology is important, cultural continuity must walk alongside it. Festivals must still be celebrated, oral traditions must be sustained, and our roots must be remembered, especially by future generations.” Curator Sophia L Pande says the exhibition took more than a year to put together:&nbsp; “It responds to a shifting world, seeking to capture both transformation and the quiet fear of loss. Its themes move fluidly across environment, technology, artificial intelligence, and climate change, reflecting the diverse yet interconnected practices of the artists, providing a glimpse into the evolving landscape of contemporary Nepali art.” Changing Times The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11AM-8PM

Time, transience, transition

The slow, arduous labour of democracy rarely announces itself with the fanfare of constitutional moments. &nbsp;It proceeds instead through committee rooms, ward meetings, half-attended assemblies, the awkward choreography of speech and silence, and the everyday compromises between aspiration and constraint.&nbsp; The book Nepal’s Federalism and the Pursuit of Deliberative Democracy attends precisely to this unglamorous terrain. In it, Vishnu Kumari Tandon does not ask whether democracy is desirable — an already settled question — but whether it can be made to think, to listen, and to endure under conditions of inequality, historical fracture, and institutional novelty.&nbsp; Her wager is modest yet demanding: that federalism, when tethered to participatory planning and deliberative fors, might recalibrate the relationship between state and citizen without promising redemption. Tandon’s Nepal is neither a site of democratic salvation nor a study in failure. It is a space of trial, where ideas migrate from constitutional text to municipal practice, altered by context, power, and expectation. Democracy here appears not as an ideal form but as a situated practice -- procedural, contested, and unfinished.&nbsp; The book’s quiet achievement lies in redirecting debates on deliberative democracy away from abstract normativity and toward the ethical friction of lived institutions. Federalism arrives in Nepal not as a technocratic reform but as a historical concession, wrested from conflict, exclusion, and prolonged political unrest. Tandon, who is a governance consultant at the World Bank, situates the 2015 Constitution within this unsettled genealogy, treating federalism less as an administrative innovation than as a moral response to longstanding claims of marginalisation.&nbsp; The constitutional recognition of local autonomy is thus freighted with ethical expectation. Yet the book refuses to equate decentralisation with empowerment. Federalism, Tandon insists, redistributes power without dissolving hierarchy. Domination may simply reappear closer to home. The central question, therefore, is not whether local governments exist, but how they govern: whether institutionalised participation genuinely alters the terms on which citizens speak, decide, and contest public priorities. Federalism emerges not as a stable structure but as a field of tension—between autonomy and dependence, inclusion and capture, aspiration and capacity. It is within this unstable terrain that the democratic experiment unfolds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127090120_62bd86d5cbb0dc9d199b797b2c90a5be37213b6c9236f79220706469cd3689a0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127090120_62bd86d5cbb0dc9d199b797b2c90a5be37213b6c9236f79220706469cd3689a0" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Vishnu Kumari Tandon"> <figcaption>Vishnu Kumari Tandon</figcaption> </figure>  UNEQUAL SKIES&nbsp; Participation, one of democracy’s most invoked terms, often risks conceptual exhaustion. Tandon restores its weight by treating participation as labour rather than ritual. Drawing on fieldwork in Buddhabhumi and Dhanushadham municipalities, she reconstructs the choreography of local planning: assemblies, committees, and councils through which proposals circulate, stall, or vanish. Participation here is unevenly distributed. It is shaped by gendered expectations, caste hierarchies, economic precarity, and anticipations of return. Attendance becomes a calculation rather than a civic reflex. This analytical attention to motivation marks one of the book’s strengths.&nbsp; Citizens participate not out of abstract virtue but through pragmatic reasoning, moral obligation, and strategic interest. Participation thus appears neither ennobling nor cynical, but politically intelligible. If participation concerns presence, deliberation concerns voice — and, crucially, whose voice matters. Tandon’s engagement with deliberative democratic theory is respectful yet revisionist. Habermasian ideals of reasoned consensus are treated as aspirational rather than portable, strained by structural inequality. In municipal assemblies, deliberation is patterned by authority: who speaks first, who commands attention, whose claims are legitimised. Marginalised citizens may be present without influence, audible without consequence. Deliberation risks becoming procedural affirmation rather than substantive redistribution of voice. Yet Tandon does not abandon deliberation as a democratic practice. Instead, she broadens its normative horizon. Drawing on second-generation deliberative theory, she legitimises emotion, self-interest, and strategic speech as components of democratic reasoning. Deliberation becomes a contested exchange rather than a purified rationality. The common good, if it appears, emerges provisionally: negotiated rather than presumed. One of the book’s most original contributions lies in its treatment of fiscal decentralisation. Money is not merely a resource but a language through which priorities are articulated and participation structured. The devolution of budgetary authority transforms deliberation into distributive politics. Citizens attend assemblies not simply to speak but to secure roads, water systems, clinics, schools. Voice is tethered to material expectation. This proximity intensifies engagement while sharpening conflict. Fiscal autonomy thus amplifies the stakes of deliberation without guaranteeing its equity. Local representatives emerge as paradoxical figures: empowered yet constrained, accountable yet insulated. Tandon resists binary judgments, showing instead how fiscal decentralisation deepens democratic possibility while exposing institutional fragility. Threaded through the book is a sustained interrogation of the ‘common good’. Revered in theory and suspect in practice, the concept is neither discarded nor sanctified. In unequal societies, appeals to the common good can obscure asymmetries of sacrifice. Empirically, deliberation proceeds through articulated self-interests: neighbourhood demands, caste claims, gendered priorities. Far from undermining democracy, these claims animate it. Self-interest becomes deliberation’s motor rather than its negation. The book thus advances a quiet ethical argument: democracy does not require the transcendence of interest, but its articulation under conditions of mutual visibility. The common good, if it exists, is emergent, fragile, and revisable. Institutions, for Tandon, are moral technologies. Laws mandate participation, but they cannot generate trust, courage, or equality. Procedural compliance may coexist with substantive exclusion. Yet repetition matters. Even imperfect fora can cultivate habits of speaking and being heard. Deliberative democracy, the book suggests, is not an event but a discipline, learned slowly, unevenly, and reversibly. Federalism is less a solution than a condition: one that opens space for democratic learning without securing its outcome. Firmly grounded in Nepal’s political history, the book resists parochialism. Nepal functions as a mirror, reflecting broader dilemmas of democratic deepening across unequal societies. Comparative resonances with Brazil, India, and donor-driven governance reforms are handled without formula or prescription. Nepal is neither an exemplar nor an exception. It is a site where democracy reveals its ordinary difficulties. The prose mirrors the argument: careful, analytic, resistant to grand claims. What lingers is not a verdict but a sensibility: an attentiveness to democracy’s tempo. Deliberative democracy appears less as consensus achieved than as disagreement sustained without rupture. In an age of democratic impatience, Tandon offers a quieter ethic. Democracy must be allowed to think slowly, to falter, and to learn. This book stands as a thoughtful companion to that discipline, reminding us that democratic transformation often occurs far from the centre, in places where speaking itself remains an achievement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127090112_4bd0fdb8c4ef4e44c21e9cba4ae63a8481ca1d61bb20f716b29f649bcdf1a4bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260127090112_4bd0fdb8c4ef4e44c21e9cba4ae63a8481ca1d61bb20f716b29f649bcdf1a4bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Federalism book details NT"> </figure>  Aftab Husain is a Pakistan-born poet and literary and cultural critic. He teaches South Asian literature and culture at the University of Vienna.

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