As soon as she milks her cow, 52-year-old Punam B K is off, pedaling her bicycle furiously along the highway with a blue milk can in the front basket.&nbsp; By the time she arrives at the Jaya Shiva Ganesh Dairy Producers Cooperative in Gopalganj village, others are already there, their bicycles parked on the roadside. The farmers are all holding on to their blue milk cans, and are chatting away.&nbsp; “We keep what is needed for the family, and sell whatever remains here at the cooperative,” says B K, as the volume, fat and non-fat solid content of her milk is measured. It is then poured into a bigger vat to be mixed with milk from other farmers. B K collects her receipt with the value of her milk, and prepares to head home. The farmers are reimbursed on a quarterly basis.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-family-that-works-together-stays-together">A family that works together stays together</a>, Sahina Shrestha “Everyone around here has at least a cow or buffalo to provide milk for the family, the cowdung is used for fertiliser, and we can bring whatever is left over to the cooperative,” says B K who, like the others, brings her milk by bicycle twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_0df32c0f6a572aef83eca02dc7a86f75ea5dbc88dc6c2390d42a44ab3cc93395.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241210081232_0df32c0f6a572aef83eca02dc7a86f75ea5dbc88dc6c2390d42a44ab3cc93395" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  All this may seem like nothing special, just an ordinary farmer selling her milk. But it has to be seen in the context of dairy farmers overcoming subsistence and increasing household income. Nearly 200,000 dairy farmers from over 1,200 cooperatives have not been paid by the government-run DDC for their milk for a year or more.&nbsp; The DDC has fixed a quota for buying milk from cooperatives that limits production even during the peak winter months. Farmers in Chitwan are so fed up, they have staged demonstrations in Kathmandu and even poured milk on the East-West Highway in protest.&nbsp; Punam B K’s milk ends up in Bhawani Dairy, a milk processing plant in Chitwan that buys milk from various cooperatives in the district. It was established six years ago by three entrepreneur cousins Devrath Baral, Drishya Baral and Subash Paudel and is now being supported by the Commercial Agriculture for Smallholders and Agribusiness (CASA) project.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_4e3c65390b9c5345f807b10cbb8c36b006ef6d3cb972e07b5067f4b2db2be32e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241210081232_4e3c65390b9c5345f807b10cbb8c36b006ef6d3cb972e07b5067f4b2db2be32e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1102" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  This UK-funded project implemented by Swisscontact in Nepal has been supporting agro-businesses in 23 countries in Asia and Africa. They focus on improving the capacity of private dairy and vegetable farmers to find markets and build a sustainable supply chain for their produce. It helps dairies like the one in Chitwan with branding and marketing, as well to track business through a Dairy Management System (DMS) digital database.&nbsp; Bhawani Dairy also got support to conduct orientation for cooperative farmers to learn about new ways to boost productivity with breeding, cowshed management and hygiene maintenance. Many commercial farmers in Chitwan, some with up to 60 cows and buffaloes, have benefited.&nbsp; B K says she only has six cows, so not everything she hears at the orientation about increasing cowshed area is applicable. “We are just happy our milk is not wasted, and we can earn some cash from the surplus,” she says.&nbsp; Bhawani Dairy’s clientele is based entirely in Chitwan and in towns along the East-West Highway. But building on its success here, the company is looking to expand nationwide and target the Kathmandu market. Being a perishable product, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/nepal-s-milk-heartland-rebounds">diary business is challenging</a>. Businesses also need investment and technical support to diversify into value-added milk products like cheese, yoghurt, ice cream or powdered milk.&nbsp; “For now, the best thing we as a dairy business can do for farmers is to buy their milk at a decent price and pay them in time,” says Drishya Baral of Bhawani Dairy.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_6c06efb5674dbcd8679015af543bfda87030755383a13c9269e272af28e85953.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241210081232_6c06efb5674dbcd8679015af543bfda87030755383a13c9269e272af28e85953" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  Another agro-industry supported by CASA since 2018 is Himalayan Supervores, a venture that sources farm produce to supply vegetables and other foods to restaurants and hotels in the city, and even export Halal-certified produce to Gulf countries.&nbsp; CASA helped with cold chain management system to keep vegetable produce fresh so that the products earn trust about quality in the national and international market. Himalayan Supervores is already exporting to UAE and Qatar, and is targeting other Gulf countries next. “The guidance provided by the international expert was invaluable, we could not have bought that knowledge even with money,” says Nelson Shrestha of Himalayan Supervores. “It was not about fancy hardware, but how to minimise wastage, increase productivity, save time and money.”&nbsp; Though Himalayan Supervores collects vegetables from vegetable cooperatives, it indirectly works with a network of thousands of cooperative farmers. Its catchment area therefore is enormous, and it has enhanced their knowledge about organic farming methods, bio-pesticides, and the right way to handle and package vegetables. CASA’s most recent tie-up is with Pokhara-based Poshilo Foods, which specialises in increasing the shelf-life of local nutritional food items. During the Covid lockdown <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p3bparajuli/">Prithwi Kallyan Parajuli</a> saw an opportunity to supply nutritional foods that stayed longer, and set up Poshilo.&nbsp; It took traditional satu flour made from dry-roasted pulse, added more nutrients, and packaged it. Four flavours of satu with nutrient values differentiated for various age groups now line the shelves of supermarket chains like KK Mart, Saleways. Poshilo is now exploring the export market in India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_a8dbea8c8d45ac4eff6c37fb47da7ff461989c662ba86d207a008381101acdcf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241210081232_a8dbea8c8d45ac4eff6c37fb47da7ff461989c662ba86d207a008381101acdcf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  In the five years of helping Nepali agribusinesses, CASA has already teamed up with 35 established companies. Parajuli heaps fulsome praise on the catalytic support and guidance he got early on, not just for product design, but to explore market viability, branding and marketing.&nbsp; He has participated in government-led programs before, but says those are one-off and focus only on technical solutions and do not pay much attention to the important back-end work with management and sales.&nbsp; Says Devrath Baral of Bhawani Dairy in Chitwan: “We would probably have eventually got to where we are now, but it would have taken years longer without CASA. And now we can share our experience with other agribusinesses in Nepal.”

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Nepal makes farming viable again

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b94279c7e80680e06f1e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2540" height="1426"/><figcaption>Richshaw operator Kancha Lama hardly gets one ride a day. He mostly depends on people distributing free food during the lockdown.</figcaption></figure>After two months in which there were new records of cases and fatalities every day, the second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-covid-19-lockdown-relaxed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">appears to be cresting in Nepal</a>, but it has left the economy in ruins with a crisis-ridden government offering no hope to citizens.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/we-knew-the-tsunami-was-approaching/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">At its peak in mid-May</a>, there were more than 9,000 new infections and up to 250 deaths daily. And that was just the official count, models put the figures at least three times higher. However, the real impact of the pandemic is in the country’s economic meltdown, with more than half the employed losing their jobs.The Covid-induced lockdowns have pushed millions of  Nepalis back below the poverty line, which means they are now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-epidemic-of-hunger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">unable to access food and water</a>, basic health care and education. This has completely reversed Nepal’s gains in poverty reduction in the past ten years.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b942a9c7e80680e06f1e4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="225" height="225">Back in March, at the tail end of the first wave, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/covids-collateral-damage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Himalmedia’s tv magazine Saglo Samaj interviewed</a> farmers, tourist guides, hotel operators and taxi drivers most affected by the lockdowns.This week, the team revisited each of the same people to find out what had become of them. Their stories are a microcosm of a society ravaged by the pandemic, where the poor have got poorer.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yni_6WWbmAo&amp;feature=youtu.beNepalis suffered altogether <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/economic-cost-of-5-months-of-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">five months of lockdown in 2020</a>, and another nearly two months this year. The restrictions were eased this week, even though the daily number of fatalities and active cases are higher than when the lockdown was imposed on 29 April.The pandemic and the lockdowns have disabled every sector. Some 1.1 million people in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-tourism-may-take-5-years-to-recover/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hospitality industry</a> have been directly impacted by the pandemic and more than half of Nepalis lost their jobs in the past month alone.Yet, the government has no clear plans to provide alternative employment opportunities for those who lost their jobs. In fact, it has been too <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/court-debates-nepal-pm-olis-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">preoccupied with a political power struggle for most </a>of the pandemic to plan a real exit strategy. Every response to the crisis has been too little, too late.On Tuesday, even though other districts prepared to relax their lockdown just as Kathmandu did, Nepal saw 4,522 new cases and 41 fatalities. There are a total of 52,648 active infections, 762 of them in ICU and 218 in ventilator support in hospitals across the country.Public health experts are already warning of a possible third wave and urging the government to make preparations for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-impact-worse-than-official-figures/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">increased contact tracing</a> and hospital treatment to avoid much devastation.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b942b9c7e80680e06f1e5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2552" height="1428"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>MILKED DRYBuffalo milk is the only source of income for farmers in Kamdi village of Banke district in the western Tarai. But many of the dairy farmers were unable to sell their milk during the lockdowns in 2020. Later, they didn’t get a fair price and the Dairy Development Corporation was slow to pay even what they were owed.“The market is closed, there is barely any feed for the cattle. We are working day and night, but for nothing,” says Malati Prasad Yadav, who has 150 buffalos, but little income since the pandemic.The farmers took loans to buy feed and take care of the buffalos, but the second wave has quashed the little hope they had. They were hoping the government would announce a relief package in this year’s budget. But their hopes were dashed.“We are having to pour the milk into the drains, there are no consumers for ghee or cheese. We are running at a loss and there is no telling how long it will last,” says Saroj Pandey of the SJ Dairy in Nepalganj. “The government should boost the morale of farmers and local businesses, subsidise their electricity or promote Nepali goods by stopping import from the third country.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b942e9c7e80680e06f1e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>TOURISM AND REALISMOne of the hardest-hit sectors is tourism. And while professionals of most fields have had to cope with the challenges brought on by the pandemic, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/where-have-all-the-guides-gone/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">tourist guides have been unemployed</a> for more than a year now.Four months ago, tourist guide Shankar Bhattarai had taken up teaching to make a living but was spending all his free time reading up about Nepal’s history and culture to better prepare himself for when the tourists would come back post lockdown. But the second wave killed what was left of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/survive-revive-thrive/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s tourism</a>.He has since given up any hope of normalcy and is constantly worried about debt collectors. Hoping for an alternative for tourists guides like himself, he was further depressed with this year’s budget.“There were provisions only for the big hotels and travel agents, we didn’t find ordinary tour guides like us anywhere in the relief packages,” says Bhattarai, who had been a tourist guide since 2011. “I’ve tried my best to promote Nepal through my work but at our time of need, we have no government support. I now question myself about staying back in Nepal.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b94309c7e80680e06f1e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2537" height="1425"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>UNSERVICEABLEBig businesses have their own woes. The three-star Airport Hotel in Kathmandu has seen only a handful of guests in more than a year. The hotel’s original staff of 100 is down to 10, and only 10 of its 62 rooms are kept serviceable.“We are doing much worse than last year, we did survive 15 months somehow, there were some domestic tourists, but then the second wave happened and it destroyed what little we had,” says owner Binayak Shah, adding that he has not been able to pay the monthly instalments on its loan for 17 months.He adds: “I have no income, so how can I pay them? This means sooner or later, the bank is going to blacklist me, and put this hotel up for auction.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b94339c7e80680e06f1e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2544" height="1420"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>DOWN AND OUTWhile some worry about paying millions in bank loans, daily wage labourers worry about the next meal. Kancha Lama has been operating a rickshaw in Kathmandu for 38 years, but his <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pandemic-puts-brake-on-kathmandus-rickshaws/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">business is down and out</a>. He hardly gets one ride a day, and mostly depends on people distributing free food.“It’s easy for the government to tell us to stay home and eat healthy, where is the money? It doesn’t even allow me to beg on the streets. At least they should distribute rations for people like us,” says Lama. “If I get Covid, at least I will be out of this misery.”Bir Bahadur Lama is in Asan every day, and if it is his lucky day he will get a client or two to carry loads for them. Otherwise, he sits on the temple steps passing the day with other jobless porters. Before the pandemic, they used to carry loads for Asan’s many shops. Sometimes, good samaritans offer them food, but that is rare.“I just wish I did not have to sleep hungry and lockdown would end soon, that is all I wish for,” he says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b94379c7e80680e06f1e9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2539" height="1430"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>TAKEN FOR A RIDEDuring the lockdown last year, a bank took possession of Ganesh Tamang’s taxi which he had bought with Rs500,000 out of savings from years of toil in the Gulf.With no other source of income, he is now back to his village and raises livestock. “I often feel like I was born in a wrong country, to a wrong family, and at the wrong time, it wouldn’t have come to this anywhere else,” he says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b943a9c7e80680e06f1eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Sagar Bohora has a sickly mother at home, and a family of young children dependent on him. But his taxi has broken down because it has not run much for the past year-and-a-half. He needs at least Rs30,000 for repairs, but he has barely enough after paying off the auto loan.“I only ask banks and financial institutions that they give us a few months until after the lockdown so that we can pay our dues, by then we will be able to get up, with or without government help,” says Bohora.<h2>Pandemic makes the poor poorer</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b943c9c7e80680e06f1ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2538" height="1424"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There is empirical evidence that the second pandemic wave has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-prepares-for-economic-fallout-of-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">further impoverished Nepal’s poor</a>. Even by modest estimates, some 9 million Nepalis have been pushed back below the poverty line due to Covid-19 induced lockdowns. In this week’s Saglo Samaj tv magazine, Shankar Sharma, former ambassador to the US and vice-chairperson of the National Planning Commission spoke to Kanak Mani Dixit. Excerpts:Kanak Mani Dixit: We went back to people we had interviewed four months ago, and found that their situation had further declined. Do they represent the current Nepali society?Shankar Sharma: They are an accurate representation. There are three categories that have been hit the hardest by the pandemic: the first are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pandemic-offers-chance-to-revive-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">subsistence farmers</a> below the poverty line, this also includes disadvantaged groups. The next are people in the informal sector whose livelihood has been endangered with the extended closure of the market. Then there is the hospitality industry and unlike others, they haven’t been able to pick up after the first wave because the impact of the lockdown on the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tourism-that-treads-lightly-on-the-land/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">travel industry</a> is long-term. These businesses had loans and now their debt has accumulated.These impacts are directly reflected in our macroeconomic numbers. Economic growth rate last year was 2% and this year it won’t be more than 1%. Similarly, the World Bank estimates following the pandemic there are now a total 9 million people in Nepal below the poverty line.Would you say that because it is not monetised rural subsistence living is faring better?Back during the Maoist insurgency, some development partners had conducted a study about people who had migrated to the cities due to the violence. They asked people if they would go back to the village once the peace accord was signed, 93% of the respondents said no.One of the main reasons behind this was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s agriculture</a> couldn’t compete with Indian and Chinese produce. This also led to more people migrating abroad. Experts have suggested the concept of contract farming, which is also included in this year’s budget and will do well for the country.But one of our biggest problems is our <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-fake-poor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">inability to identify the poor</a>. The government has developed ID cards for their identification, but 23% of the poor are not on the list but 25% are those who have listed themselves in hopes of getting some relief. As a result, the real poor have been deprived even of their social security fund.What should we do to boost their morale and of the country?The affected people are those in rural Nepal but they also have an advantage of three levels of government. But it is still the responsibility of the central government to provide relief worth at least two months at $1 per day for its people. Unfortunately, there is no mention of this in the budget this year.The Nepal government has also allocated a total of Rs50 billion for training in the last two budgets but hasn’t been able to spend that money. This fund should be used in skill development for Nepalis post lockdown, effective spending of the budget is a must. Similarly, the government should support cottage and small industries so that they don’t close down. If we lack funding, we could use loans and grants we have received from international development partners.Despite the pandemic, there is still talk about Nepal graduating from Least Developed Country (LDC) status to a middle-income country. What will happen now?Following the pandemic, the United Nations has set a new deadline for the LDCs to graduate to lower-middle-income and middle-income countries. The good news is that we have made some progress in our per capita income, and the fact that our economy is now dependent on multiple factors is a positive sign. But what is worrying is that our economic growth is still lower than the average growth of underdeveloped countries. This means we will have to work more on increasing our living standard.It is said that Nepal is not a poor country, but the government just cannot seem to spend its development budget. If they were held more to account by civil society and media during this pandemic that might help? I think that is an appropriate conclusion to make. The government will always play the lead role, but it is important to highlight the importance of civil society and journalists in creating awareness about various programs at the local level such as the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prime Minister’s Employment Scheme</a>, which goes a long way in rejuvenating elected representatives in villages and towns.

The real cost of Nepal’s second wave

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101152/636a26f99c7e80680e043a47jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>GROWING FEED: Kabita and Bhandari Sapkota show their winter fodder crop that saves them the drudgery of collecting feedstock in the mountains.Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption></figure>The terraced fields fall away from the road in gentle waves, each neatly scored into brown ruts like a freshly moulded bar of chocolate. “All potatoes, newly planted,” explains Ram pointing inside the plastic greenhouses with vegetables for the Kathmandu market. Not a rice paddy in sight, we stop the vehicle and I jump out to take a quick photograph. Not so quick, as it turns out.Nepal has <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Vacuum-in-the-villages,1296">regressed</a> from a major exporter of rice to a net importer, nearly Rs250million worth annually, but that is not why we are here. Our day trip is to learn how the New Zealand government has assisted some <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Subsistence-farmers-need-help-after-the-earthquake,2260">Kavre farmers</a> convert paddy fields to grow year-round forage crops for their animals, thus reducing workloads and increasing dairy production.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101152/636a26fc9c7e80680e043a48jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="430" height="210">We drive another 20 minutes up the winding road southwest from Panauti, the urban sprawl thins and the valley narrows, sheltering cherry blossom and orange trees along the alder-lined river. At Aruchour a group of Tamang farmers are bundled up in warm jackets waiting on the dusty early-morning roadside. Work-worn hands help me clamber down gullies and teeter along trenches that line their terraces to see the flourishing winter crops of dense green oats and flowering vetch which will be cut and blended as the perfect feed for domestic livestock.Dinesh Pariyar, project leader and veteran of Nepal’s Agriculture Research Council, tells me that since 2003 many species of oats have been trialled before this variety was selected as most suitable for the soil, climate and animals. Ram Prasad Ghimire, head of the government fodder and pasture division, adds that hours of women’s time previously spent collecting feedstuff from the hills are saved, competition for scant resources is avoided and livestock forage guaranteed throughout the year. Most importantly, this innovation has resulted in improved milk yields from cows and buffaloes, by as much as 36%.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101152/636a26fd9c7e80680e043a49jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Two women farmers from the cooperative adjust their red shawls and laugh at their sensible canvas shoes. They do not regret switching some of their fertile fields to animal fodder. “Supplying Kathmandu, we take our surplus milk to the collection centre once during winter and twice a day in summer. We can make an extra Rs50,000 per year and send our children to school and college,” says one. Three happy cows serenely peruse us from beside the ochre-daubed homestead and a blue kingfisher flashes overhead.Further on, we see oats, vetch, sorghum and berseem being propagated for seeds. For the first time Nepali farmers do not have to rely on substandard imported supplies. A bilious bright mini-tiller demonstrates how land can be ploughed in a matter of hours instead of backbreaking days needed with oxen or bullocks. Dinesh tells me they have supplied several of these mechanical marvels, as well as reapers and seed threshers, that are rotated around the cooperatives. My Tamang ladies nod in agreement. They too get a turn.Replicated throughout the country and shared with hundreds of thousands of farmers, this new technology, income from seeds and improved dairy yields have also helped <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Learning-to-rebuild-in-Kavre,2803">earthquake recovery</a>. As one of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/07/20/caring-in-kavre/">worst hit</a> wards in the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/no-water-post-earthquake,2989">April 2015 disaster</a>, Aruchour is scattered with new <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/07/19/earth-homes/">earth bag houses</a> funded by the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/no-money-for-helicopters-to-distribute-earthquake-relief,2792">National Reconstruction Authority</a>.Although there were few fatalities, every upland home was damaged and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/animals-also-affected-severely-affecting-livelihood-of-people,2316">most of their animals lost</a>, tethered and trapped beneath the collapsed buildings. During the miserable aftermath, villagers were crammed four households into one tent.It is time to climb the clay clinging trail to the ridgetop house where 30 farmers are waiting, most of them women. Clutching bitter-smelling marigolds and plied with tea and orange katas, we discuss progress and they enquire after Dr Keith and Professor John, the New Zealand Lincoln University specialists who have worked with them for over 20 years. Looking around the circle of colourful garments and attentive faces, I realise how little I know about the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Nepal-agriculture-disaster-even-before-earthquake,2256">exhaustive farming practices</a> that shape the landscape of Nepal.John wrote me that one of his best moments was sitting with a women’s cooperative leader outside her home looking up at hills covered in shrubs and trees. She said: “Before you came we used to spend hours each day up there trying to find fodder for our livestock. Now we can sit here and watch the forest grow.”For some time my mobile has been ringing insistently, a wrong number I assume and silence its intrusion. Engrossed in the meeting’s milking chat and musings on transformed lives, it is not until we reach Lakuri Bhangjyang on the shortcut back to Kathmandu that I take the call.“Have you lost your wallet?”I scramble in my bag, and sure enough it is missing, not only cash but the full disaster of driving licence, passes and cards in a navy leather purse with silver crest dating from the Prince of Wales’ first trek in Nepal.An unlikely couple on a motorcycle are revealed to be my saviours, my heros, my guardian angels. The saintly Mr Hari Timilsina and Mr Tamang (right) had found my wallet on the roadside where I had stopped for that photograph, and persisted in tracking me down. Mysterious phone negotiations are conducted as we retrace our steps to rendevous in a busy Panauti street. Mr Tamang hovers, short and shy, prefering not even to divulge his name. Trucks roar past as a black plastic briefcase is carefully unzipped by Mr Timilisina, tall, thin and eyes glittering with goodwill. My wallet is produced with panache. “I am a social worker,” he grins, handing it to me, everything intact.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101152/636a27019c7e80680e043a4ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1706" height="2220">Contented cows munch in the sunshine as we leave the coveted township of Panauti, alleged to be immune from earthquakes, secured on a massive single stone. Dinesh and Ram laugh at my luck. Panauti’s sacred confluence temples are nearby, where only the enlightened can perceive the fabled third river, but there is no time to give thanks for my extraordinary and undeserved good fortune.

Lisa Choegyal

Nepal’s milk heartland rebounds

In 2003, the death by police firing of a student protesting a rise in fuel prices pushed Nepal’s student activists to join the प्रतिगमन विरोधी आन्दोलन (Movement Against Regression), which political parties had begun after king Gyanendra’s sacking an elected government a year before. The students’ participation elevated the movement and prompted more Nepalis to join in, leading to the People’s Movement that first sidelined the monarchy and then abolished it in 2008.&nbsp; That took five years to happen. But 12 years later, this month, a youth-led protest forced the prime minister to resign within 30 hours.&nbsp; Police massacred GenZ activists, many of them students, outside Parliament on 8 September. This intensified public anger, leading to targeted attacks, looting, and burning of the homes of political leaders, private businesses, and public buildings.&nbsp; Amid the smouldering ruins of state institutions, young Nepalis chose a new prime minister to lead an interim government and deliver a fresh mandate. All of this happened in five days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="8000" height="5760" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Parliament building up in flames during the GenZ protest on 9 September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  Students have been central to Nepal’s democratic and political process since the mid 20th century. In her 2018 book Making New Nepal, researcher Amanda Thérèse Snellinger traces the history of student activism and politics against a background of &nbsp;Nepal’s socio-political history and party politics.&nbsp; Snellinger examines the interplay of ideology and identity, explores how student activists fit into a political landscape continually occupied by the traditional elite, and details how student leaders have established themselves through relationships with influential actors on local, national, regional, and transnational levels. The Rana regime’s repression caused students to be politically aware. In 1947, students held the first organised protest against the Rana autocracy demanding educational reforms. The breadth of student activism expanded during the Panchayat era after king Mahendra banned political parties, which drove mainstream politicians and parties underground. &nbsp;Student activists then became proxies for multiparty democracy because they were still able to organise.&nbsp; Student politics was institutionalised, and unions emerged as vanguard sister organisations of political parties. Student activism, more so than mainstream political parties, played key roles during &nbsp;both major movements in 1990 and the 2000s, as they mobilised the citizenry to join the democratic process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1952" height="2928" loading="lazy" alt="1990 people's movement Nepal"> <figcaption>The iconic image of the 1990 People's Movement agaist the autocratic Panchyat regime of the king. Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption> </figure>  Through extensive ethnographic research between 2003 and 2015, Snellinger investigates the political coming of age of student activists during the final years of the armed insurgency and their role in and beyond the movement that ultimately abolished the monarchy. Her research revolves around the political journeys of five student activists: Akash and Rishi from the Nepali Congress (NC) student wing Nepal Student Union (NSU), Salini from the UML’s All Nepal National Free Students’ Union (ANNFSU-Akhil), Gyanu from ANNISU-Revolutionary of the Maoists, and Lagan, who began his political journey from Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party’s student wing Nepal Krantikari Bidyarthi Sangathan. The ‘movement against regression’ in 2003 served as the entry point &nbsp;for activists into national party politics. Indeed, it was their &nbsp;participation in the movement that elevated the profile of the main subjects of Snellinger’s research. In the years that followed, the paths of the five activists diverged. Some made it into mainstream politics, even becoming lawmakers. In doing so, they have had to trade idealism for pragmatism, and their attempts realise their previous vision for Nepal’s democracy have been overshadowed by their political opportunism and position. And even decades after they began their journey as student activists, the generation that the book focuses on are still considered &nbsp;‘youth’ leaders. Snellinger quotes a former student leader who joined mainstream politics as saying: “I am still a youth because &nbsp;my aspirations remain unfulfilled.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="2006 People's Movement of Nepal"> <figcaption>A student protester wearing a paper crown and ridiculing Gyanendra with an impersonation, a day after king stepped down and left his palace. Photo: AJAY JOSHI / A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, the refusal of Nepal’s octogenarian leaders to retire (even after The upheaval this month) has created a surplus of younger adults waiting in the wings, making the word ‘youth’ relative in Nepal’s political trajectory. Other subjects of Snellinger's research have retreated from student and mainstream activism, either in disappointment over their mother party’s retreat from some of their more radical positions, or to &nbsp;continue their work at the community level through education and journalism. One of them has leveraged her political connections to further women-led initiatives after unsuccessful election bids. Nearing the end of her research in 2015, Snellinger observes the disappointment of Madhesi communities whose movement to demand more inclusive provisions of the draft Constitution had gone in vain, even after 45 lives were lost.&nbsp; As the Constitution was promulgated in 2015, TVs were switched off in the Tarai, and there were sighs of resignation. In Kathmandu, Snelllinger noted that the student leaders that entered mainstream politics protesting for inclusive democracy had little empathy for the struggles and similar demands of groups in the Madhes. Despite the students’ role in ending the monarchy, Nepal’s political status quo has remained. The institutions and people that replaced the &nbsp;monarchy have allowed one set of Kathmandu elites to be replaced with another.&nbsp; The socio-political benefits promised during the movement two &nbsp;decades ago have remained tightly controlled by leaders who refuse to give up their hold on power. The political system was overhauled, but without concrete reform. It was only a matter of time before public frustration would boil over. Indeed, Snellinger concludes her book by predicting the inevitability of future movements in Nepal.&nbsp; She writes: ‘Leaders emerge through the andolan … a new generation will emerge shaped by Nepal’s accumulated socio-political heritage, which they will mediate to shape a liveable present and future for themselves in their country, perhaps by continuing the movement.’&nbsp; And that is exactly what happened on 8-9 September. Students marched in the streets demanding an end to corruption and impunity, but this time not as proxies of political parties.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z protest"> <figcaption>A student during the GenZ protest against acorruption on 8 September. Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Their desire for socio-political reform was apolitical at a time in Nepal’s history when the nation’s student organisations have weakened and lost credibility, mirroring the erosion of trust in their parent parties. Along with party-based student unions, the Free Student Union (FSU)— the umbrella body all student unions—has lost its reputation due to corruption and embezzlement. That is not to say there are no similarities in movements past and present. Whether political or apolitical, protests have been overshadowed by a lack of unity within the groups that spearhead movements. They have led to destruction of public and private institutions.&nbsp; Leaders of youth and student movements have also had to bear the brunt of the frustration of the people they represent when there is no delivery on their demands. The academics of students have suffered because of frequent lockouts of university and college administration. Youth andolan, whether political or apolitical, has been a rite of passage into Nepali democratic politics — dissensus is an integral part of political regeneration. It remains to be see how the fall &nbsp;from grace of political parties after the GenZ movement will affect their affiliated student unions. As elections approach, student unions and youth collectives will find their own footing in Nepal’s &nbsp;newly emerging socio-political landscape. The youth who took to the streets are asking for a complete overhaul for political parties. Establishmentarian leaders still have not seen the writing on the wall.&nbsp; NextGen leaders in their parties have been waiting for years for their turn &nbsp;to break through the glass ceiling. These established political actors will not go down without a fight in the run-up to March elections.&nbsp; Amanda Thérèse Snellinger perhaps needs a post-script or even a sequel to her book to see how a new generation of leaders, forged by their student activism, will compete in Nepal's new political arena.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Making new Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

What does a journalist do when young protesters are shot in front of her? Does she do her job and stay neutral? Can you stay neutral?&nbsp; As protests engulfed Kathmandu, Nepal's journalists found themselves reporting a story that was personal. While doing their job, some of them were even targeted by mobs.&nbsp; Dart Asia Pacific Fellow <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/arunkarki/" target="_blank">Arun Karki</a> visited their newsrooms and spoke with his colleagues on their experience of reporting the GenZ protests that erupted on 8 September. These are the first-hand accounts of journalists who witnessed the turmoil in the city they call home. Sunita Karki was at a workshop in a hotel on 8 September. She saw the first waves of protests through hotel windows. Curfew alerts flooded her phone, a vehicle belonging to a human rights group sat burning across the road, young boys were taking their wounded friends on motorbikes to the Everest Hospital, and police were beating a teenager with hands raised up.&nbsp; “I cried a lot,” she said, but the tears were not out of fear -- they were because she felt guilt. “I couldn’t write the news. We were witnessing these scenes from a five-star hotel.” By evening, the death toll had reached 19. On 9 September at about 3:35 p.m. &nbsp;her outlet, the Annapurna Post's office in Tinkune, Kathmandu, was set on fire. Staff had to leave the building as parts of the newsroom burnt down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dart Centre Asia Pacific"> </figure>  When she knew her office was burning, she anxiously told her husband that she would resign from the job: "If we have to hide our identification cards in every protest, what kind of journalist am I?" she asked herself. She filed a story the next day, but her emotions kept bouncing between that of a journalist’s duty and shock. She said that in moments like this, it’s hard to feel truly neutral. After watching the police beat people, she felt a strong urge to step in, not just stand back and report. The first real calm came later, when people came to the street and lit small candles together. “This was a sort of victory procession. I felt some relief after brutal days,” she said. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/angaddhakal/" target="_blank">Angad Dhakal</a> a photojournalist who works at Kantipur National Daily, was standing outside his office building when protesters stormed in and set parts of it on fire. He had already been informed that protesters were planning to torch his office building and &nbsp;rushed to his office hoping to save his hard drives containing ten years of photography work. He failed. He raised his camera and "forcefully" pressed the shutter - more to document the scene than out of "professional enthusiasm or duty".&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  “My office was burning. What should I photograph?” he recalled. A few moments later, a protester noticed the “PHOTO” label on his yellow Press jacket. Dhakal deflected it by saying he was an early career freelancer and YouTuber. So that protesters wouldn't find out, he went to one corner and took his jacket off. When it comes to covering street protests, &nbsp;Angad usually stands near the police because it feels safer. But on 8 September, fire and gunshots made even that area unsafe. A rubber bullet hit his friend Dipendra Dhungana that badly injured him.&nbsp; He thought, “Where do we go now? If we stay here, we’ll be hit.” After witnessing two days of protests, violence, and killings, and seeing his own office burning, he couldn't sleep for days. The same afternoon that government buildings burned and Kantipur was attacked, a message in a protest Discord forum talked openly of 'attacking Kantipur'.&nbsp; Rumours spread to other outlets. Outside OnlineKhabar's office, where <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/article/edit/7376157229248528384/?author=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_company%3A79132377#" target="_blank">Gaurav Pokharel</a> works, the newsroom manager saw “very suspicious people were walking around”. They lowered blinds, avoided windows, locked the front gate and dispersed staff to other places across the city. The outlet was threatened and effectively locked down, but not torched. Pokharel hid his press ID. “ I never showed the ID card. Sometimes I had to enter the crowd shouting slogans, just to blend in among the protesters,” he said. He watched people fall under gunfire, he helped pull one surrounded journalist out of a hostile crowd.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  As a freelancer, Gaurav also contributed articles for international outlets. Later, while transcribing an interview of a young protest organiser, he wrote to his editor at an international outlet : “This was very hard to write. I cried many times while doing it.” He had been working at a stretch for days battling bouts of exhaustion and low blood pressure.&nbsp; Protesters vandalised and set fire within the Singha Darbar complex housing Nepal Television and Radio Nepal. They tried to disrupt public broadcasting.&nbsp; Surendra Paudyal began the day with his press ID hanging on his neck, thinking it would let him move freely. But when he reached Singha Darbar around 3:30PM, the situation felt dangerous.&nbsp; He put the ID in his pocket. When asked what mattered most, he answered without pause: life comes first. In that moment, he felt real fear and a strong duty to protect his team.&nbsp; His focus narrowed to basic things: stay calm, find exits, get everyone out safely. Later, they were able to keep the 8 pm news on air through a regional link. He felt mixed emotions and a sense of relief that the broadcast continued, but also sadness and anger that their own studio had come under attack. Reprinted with permission from the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, a regional hub that provides trauma-informed support and advice to journalists.

"It is hard to feel neutral"

Among the songs GenZ protesters were chanting at the Mandala on 8 September was Amrit Gurung’s folk-rock rendition of the Panchayat-era patriotic song, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iXnL31W93c">रातो र चन्द्र-सुर्जे जङ्गी निशान हाम्रो</a>. But amidst waving double pennants that day in Kathmandu were strands of Gopal Yonjan singing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7D8P-g3Uw4" target="_blank">बनेको छ पहराले</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57SlGf4m7R4" target="_blank">देशले रगत मागे</a>. The irony is that the message of Nepali nationalism the musician was trying to convey 50 years ago with his lyrics carries a new resolute relevance in today's context: I am a son of Nepal who will never kowtow to anyone.&nbsp; You can behead me, but I will never bend the knee. &nbsp; I can withstand fire, but will not stand injustice.&nbsp; If the nation demands blood, I will sacrifice myself. My mother will not weep, for she is the daughter of a Nepali. This was pure patriotic poetry that only someone like Gopal Yonjan could write. They are inter-generational and immortal — speaking as much for the GenZ today, as it was for the early days of nation-building when they were recorded in vinyl and broadcast over Radio Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092210094_4d5f65bf3ba2d2823e3da8aff6a77f2b9aa4eff4b1e1b6a8eeed8c0bcb58e47b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025092210094_4d5f65bf3ba2d2823e3da8aff6a77f2b9aa4eff4b1e1b6a8eeed8c0bcb58e47b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan NT 1"> <figcaption>Gopal Yonjan was an adept flautist from a young age in Darjeeling.</figcaption> </figure>  Those two songs together have over 20 million views on the Music Nepal YouTube channel, and many of the comments have been posted after the 9 September massacre and the raging conflagration at the epicentre of the Nepali state&nbsp; They attest to the emotional depth of Nepali nationhood and love of motherland in every citizen of every generation no matter how dreadful the circumstances — and especially when the future looks fragile and uncertain.&nbsp; The release of Gopal Yonjan: The Man &amp; His Music by his wife Renchin could not have come at a more momentous time in Nepal’s history to celebrate this iconic legend of modern Nepali music. Yonjan would have been 82 today, and as a poet, lyricist, singer innovated and improvised using Nepal’s folk traditions to infuse modern arrangements, meld melody with harmony, and lend them words that made the songs eternal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092308098_76c4e4df756de0c1bea9858e1da0bcb6acb8145f27963e1679f5509a6ac2f078.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025092308098_76c4e4df756de0c1bea9858e1da0bcb6acb8145f27963e1679f5509a6ac2f078" data-rendition-name="original" width="2712" height="3900" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan Narayan Gopal"> <figcaption>Narayan Gopal with Gopal Yonjan, the ‘Gopal Duet’ at Swayambhu circa 1963.</figcaption> </figure>  HOMECOMING Renchin Yonjan brings us an intimate family album of historic photographs of Gopal growing up in school in Darjeeling, his arrival in Kathmandu and the decision to make Nepal his home. She quotes Gopal: ‘I was deeply moved by the very glimpse of Nepal. I was enchanted by the greenery of Kathmandu, the gentle nature of the people, their pure thoughts, and their hospitality … how wonderful it would be to spend my live in such a beautiful and serene place.’ It was a kind of homecoming for Gopal Yonjan, the land his ancestors left to migrate to British India. In Kathmandu he found kindred spirits and musicians as passionate about their craft as himself: Narayan Gopal, Nagendra Thapa, Ratna Shumsher Thapa, Shiva Shanker, Pushpa Nepali  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250922100920_99a97f6cd76c130d5df91a38ac236906bcb21ba6fc2d2d693ba51e0a97c045d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250922100920_99a97f6cd76c130d5df91a38ac236906bcb21ba6fc2d2d693ba51e0a97c045d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1071" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> <figcaption>Gopal Yonjan arriving at Kathmandu airport in 1963 and greeted by Nepali singers Pushpa Nepali, Dilmaya Khati, Shiv Shanker Shrestha, among others. </figcaption> </figure>  Gopal Yonjan and Narayan Gopal hit it off right away, complementing and inspiring each other with their shared love for meaningful music. They came to be known as the ‘Gopal Duet’, and Yonjan wrote in Nepali in his diary on 21 April 1963 about their first meeting: ‘I was immediately struck by his talent and presence. There was something in both his artistry and demeanour that drew me in. It didn’t take long for us to draw close.’ Towards the end of his life, Gopal Yonjan drifted away from themes of patriotism and unity to celebrate music in its purest form in his Gopalaya Studio in Kathmandu. It became art for art’s sake.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250922100912_f9aeec8d96049c580a4b63789664e1ae80971d3be3c7809acfe51b84e3e31cd1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250922100912_f9aeec8d96049c580a4b63789664e1ae80971d3be3c7809acfe51b84e3e31cd1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1304" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> <figcaption>Gopal Yonjan at his Gopalaya Studio in Kathmandu in 1992.</figcaption> </figure>  The words of his song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8ZHg3wkvzw" target="_blank">मेरो गीत मेरै प्रतिविम्ब होइन</a> immortalised by Narayan Gopal has lines that give goosebumps to anyone who listens to them: मेरो गित भन्ने अधिकार छैन, गित को पो म हूँ मेरो गित होइन (I have no right to call this my song. This song does not belong to me. I belong to this song.) &nbsp; In Nepal, Gopal Yonjan also found a more complicated story. There were grand historical narratives of nationalism, bravery and glory, but there was an undercurrent of fear and control. Renchin writes in the chapter, Tell Me Where My Country Lies: ‘[Gopal saw] national pride slowly erode in the face of social exclusion, political silence, and economic disenfranchisement.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250922100912_57578ebebc7e405cf6ad3080611366893bee30cfc071567e6509038da866b2f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250922100912_57578ebebc7e405cf6ad3080611366893bee30cfc071567e6509038da866b2f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1043" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> <figcaption>Renchin and Gopal Yonjan in their garden in Kathmandu in the late 1980s.</figcaption> </figure>  Gopal Yonjan’s song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zru8yWSuRCI" target="_blank">भनिदे नेपाली दाइ मेरो देश कहाँ पर्यो</a> is ‘as much an elegy as a manifesto’ with searing lines like ‘Where is the river that ran red with Nepali blood? Where is the battlefield where our defenders wiped their khukri?’ Gopal Yonjan sings this song himself, reminding Nepalis of the sacrifices made to forge this nation, and for us not to squander them.&nbsp; In his song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pVKpsK6Wy8" target="_blank">लाहुरे</a>, Yonjan celebrates Nepal’s illustrious history written in blood both to keep the nation free and then spilling it to defend other countries. Today, the same song takes on added meaning of Nepali lahure shedding not blood but sweat and tears as they toil abroad to send money to families back home. It evokes the pain of separation, and an anger at an uncaring state that drives them to leave. Gopal Yonjan died aged 53 in 1997 in a New Delhi hospital, leaving a legacy that still defines the Nepali nation in ageless musical compositions. The US-based <a href="https://www.gopalaya.org/" target="_blank">Gopayala</a> and the Gopal Yonjan Foundation have worked to remaster some of the tapes and recordings that are in safekeeping at Cornell University’s Carl A Koch Library.&nbsp; Renchin Yonjan has collected some of that valuable documentation in her book, Gopal Yonjan: The Man &amp; His Music. Her concluding paragraph sounds prescient because of what Nepal has just been through: ‘Gopal’s patriotic compositions remain timeless not because they repeat old slogans, but because they ask new questions, and demand that we answer not with our voices, but with our lives.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092210090_3d0b5ecad2313b09e83e0de91bf510004f1ff836d7e66f0543ccd49432bb6386.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2025092210090_3d0b5ecad2313b09e83e0de91bf510004f1ff836d7e66f0543ccd49432bb6386" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="518" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> </figure>

Gopal Yonjan’s immortal songs

Harry Jackson was on an epic adventure ‘from Thailand to the UK on 2 wheels’ when he ran into the ultimate sidequest. Having just visited Zangla in Ladakh, Jackson had only landed in Kathmandu when he found himself in the middle of GenZ protests earlier this month. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w">Arriving in Nepal - Chaos, Protest &amp; Curfews</a>’ is the title of his first video (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wehatethecold/videos">wehatethecold on YouTube</a>) about the protest. He shoots police as they shoot at protesters outside Parliament. Jackson is riding a Honda CT125, a retro lightweight motorbike with off-road capabilities. Strapped to the bike is his sparse luggage, flute, and a faded Union Jack. People are rioting on the streets and there is a heavy armed police presence as he makes his way to his hostel in Thamel. His vlog the day after on 9 September has 29 million views. In ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyxSqeFrlp0">The side of Nepal the media won’t show you</a>’, Jackson rides his bike straight at the crowd just past the Parliament building into Old Baneswar.&nbsp; He parks it and walks among the protestors, documenting it all: from the police firing capsules of tear gas into the crowd to the burning Parliament building as well as the jubilant, victorious crowd in the premises as they destroy police vehicles and dance. “I’m shocked at the scenes I’ve witnessed here today. I have truly witnessed history on a stupid trip from Thailand to England on a f***ing moped!” exclaims Jackson as he leaves the scene for the day, heading back to his hostel to edit the footage. The hostel is in direct contrast to the raucous scenes of the protest, as tourists and Nepalis sit and lounge at tables. ‘KUIRE VLOGGER’ Nepalis quickly called him the ‘kuire vlogger’, and attribute his skin colour to his popularity. Objectively, the videos are well made. Jackson goes full gonzo journalist, putting himself right in the heart of the action, talking directly to the people, all while narrating the events as they unfold. Despite being cut together in an entertaining way, the footage retains a raw, unpolished quality that outdoes what most professional journalists with a heavy duty camera crew could do. At a time when legacy media has been seen to be pushing biased narratives, Jackson wants to see for himself what happened, and make up his own mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1604" loading="lazy" alt="WehateTheCold"> </figure>  This kind of video journalism takes a lot of skill and a certain personality. Many people, almost everybody, had their phones out at the protests, but only a handful were like Jackson. He interviewed people firsthand, edited the clips and uploaded them the same day. Jackson continued his vlogging over the next few days as the curfew was first put in place and then lifted. He explores the city as the Valley rebounds. By this time, Nepalis recognise him everywhere he goes. Jackson had achieved moderate fame as a 23-year old DJ in Birmingham, but what he has done in Nepal is something else. Almost everyone he talks to has already seen his vlog, and they are all eager to interact. He has been on multiple podcasts in Nepal too, and most videos online on the protests reference his vlogs. Before his Nepal blogs, Jackson had a modest 16k subcribers on YouTube, but after Nepal figure is now almost 700k, gaining over 100k each through 11-13 September. Most of them are Nepali viewers. “I’m just a regular dude who just did what he wanted to do,” says Jackson on a podcast. “I wanted to go on an adventure, learn about history, and learn languages. And I wanted to film it, document it, and have a wicked film for my life to show future generations.” &nbsp;