"I shut down my poultry farm as the villagers did not buy fresh chicken from me,” sums up a Dalit farmer from Arghakhanchi district why he had to leave for work.&nbsp;
Most people can sell fresh meat in their villages and make a good profit but Dalits still cannot because people will not buy from them due to caste stigma. Dalits have no choice but to sell their poultry to outside suppliers for lower profits.&nbsp;
“Other hoteliers found out my caste and used it to push me out of competition. They informed my customers of my caste and discouraged them from staying at my hotel,” a Dalit hotelier shares.&nbsp;
The hotel was close to a medical school and had earned a good reputation among hospital visitors, at least until they discovered his caste.
As ‘higher’ caste customers stopped coming, he moved his hotel to the East-West highway, where customers, in a rush, do not have time to worry about the caste of the owner.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-looks-at-alternative-investments">Nepal looks at alternative investments</a>, Siddhant Raj Pandey
“They will knock me out of the business if they know my caste,” says a Dalit who owns a pipe manufacturing business in Western Tarai. He has been in the business for several years. Due to fear of ostracisation from non-Dalits who dominate the industry, he has erased his caste name from all his documents and uses a non-Dalit surname.&nbsp;
These three incidents illustrate deeply rooted caste barriers blocking Dalits from entering and thriving in business even as they make up 14% of Nepal’s 29 million population.
Yet, due to Nepal’s hierarchical caste system, Dalits continue to be looked down upon as ‘untouchable’ and of ‘lower’ rank, and non-Dalits, as per caste norms, do not eat food and beverage items touched by them.&nbsp;
In a 2018 Tribhuvan University study, even seven years after anti-caste discrimination laws were passed, 34% of Hill Dalits and 28% of Madhesi Dalits reported routinely facing caste-based discrimination.&nbsp;
Caste-based barriers obstruct Dalits from freely participating and thriving in business, yielding at least three distinct types of market and non-market barriers.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/success-in-nepal-means-not-having-to-work">Success in Nepal means not having to work</a>, Anil Chitrakar
First, caste bias means ‘higher’ caste groups avoid buying goods and services from Dalits, except for menial labour. In their 2019 book Good Economics for Hard Times, Nobel laureates in economics Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo show that social norms such as caste and patriarchy, and not just price, shape business decisions.&nbsp;
In Nepal’s case, ‘upper’ caste customers examine not only the price and quality of what they are buying but also the social value of goods and services.&nbsp;
Second, companies use caste norms to sideline Dalits out of competition. Development economists confirm that firms often deploy caste and ethnic discrimination to remove their competitors from the playing field.&nbsp;
Third, Nepal’s Dalits do not have easy access to resources such as land, capital, and networks that are usually a precondition to enter and thrive in business. Impoverished by decades of exclusion and discrimination, Dalits do not have collateral for loans. They face social stigma and stereotypes and do not get access to idea-and-trust-based loans.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/invest-in-investment">Invest in investment</a>, Nepali Times
As a result, they are forced to get by with low capital and higher interest rates. Dalits also do not have strong business networks, nor do they have access to the social spaces where business decisions are made. They do not have a strong community support system, which could compensate for low capital and weak policy networks.&nbsp;
These caste barriers not only block the entry of Dalits into business but also create market failures. Just like the Dalit hotelier in Bhairawa who was pushed out of the market, discriminatory practices allow only a few castes to dominate, forcing customers to buy in a market not governed by price and quality but by non-market measures. Eventually, such caste-based business practices create conditions for cartels and monopolies, blocking the free market.&nbsp;
Caste-biased business practices also yield inefficient resource allocation. Caste-based preferences in recruitment mean businesses are forced to draw from smaller talent pools, and Dalits miss out on opportunities for human development. Resources such as land and capital do not move across social groups, ultimately leading to unequal income distribution and lower economic growth.&nbsp;
Despite the challenges, Nepal is committed to ending discrimination in employment and business. In 1974, Nepal ratified the ILO Convention 111–Discrimination (Employment and Occupation) Convention, 1958. In 2002, the country enacted the Bonded Labour (Prohibition) Act, formally ending forced labour such as Kamaiya, Haliya and Haruwa-Charuwa. In 2020, Nepal Rastra Bank issued a guidance note to encourage loans to Dalits of up to one million rupees on concessional interest rates.&nbsp;
While the commitments on paper have been swift, they have not led to tangible results. In 2023, the ILO Experts’ Committee called for Nepal to implement Convention 111 to address discrimination against Dalits and to promote their access to productive resources such as land and capital.
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside">Caste Aside</a>, Nepali Times
Ahead of its upcoming graduation to middle-income country status in 2026, Nepal has prioritised private sector-led development, hoping to increase investment from domestic and international investors. The Nepal Investment Summit this weekend is designed to attract investments.&nbsp;
While these are welcome moves, Nepal should not miss the opportunity to free itself from barriers holding back the Dalit community. By unlocking Dalits from discrimination, Nepal can add to its human capital, ensure fair income distribution, increase resource allocation efficiency, and augment economic growth.&nbsp;
We need research on how caste-based discrimination has reinforced market failures. The business development capacity of Dalits needs to be enhanced by creating better access to information and business networks. Nepal’s macro and micro-economic policies should combat visible and invisible caste-based business barriers.&nbsp;
Monetary policies can grant Dalits access to non-collateralised finance at concessional interest rates, and tax exemptions can create a level playing field. Finally, there could be a policy guarantee that the government, as one of the largest buyers, purchases goods and services from Dalits.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalit-lives-must-matter">Dalit lives must matter</a>, Shristi Karki

Subhash Nepali

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Putting Dalits back in business

In her Tarai village not far from Hetauda, <a href="https://www.recordnepal.com/sarita-pariyar-who-is-going-to-tell-our-stories">Sarita Pariyar has written</a>, ‘Only certain castes were expected to read and write.’ Tamangs, Dalits and 'higher' castes attended her school, but only some were thought to have the capacity to learn.
‘People would say Chtteri Bahun ka bacchaharu bhayepo padchan; Bhote, Kami Damai ka baccha kaha padchan? (Chettri Bahun children can study, why would Tamang and Kami Damai children go to school?).’
As a child, Sarita believed what she heard about such groups. She saw that very few Tamang and Dalit students made it far in her school. Later she realised that these students faced economic, social, and linguistic barriers, not least the low expectations about their intellectual capacity.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-class-divide/">Nepal’s class divide</a>, Tom Robertson
‘The caste system led higher caste kids to believe that reading and writing are in their blood, but Dalit and Janajati kids were made to believe that they could not study and had to do manual work,’ writes Sarita, who realised that many talented children fell victim to these self-fulfilling prophecies. ‘Stories about what one group can or cannot do carry tremendous power.’
In Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-differences/">schooling and education</a> was once for higher castes only. Even after schools were opened in the 1950s and 1960s, for many years Dalit children either could not go to school or had to sit apart, on the floor or at the back. They could not use the water tap. They faced taunting and teasing from other children.
Today the situation is much improved. There is very little overt discrimination of the kind there once was, but much remains to be done. One big barrier that Dalit children face, as Sarita Pariyar’s story so powerfully reveals, is the bigotry of low expectations.
Many high caste people still believe that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/caste-aside-dalits-battle-sitgma/">Dalit</a>are not smart or have less potential than other children. Sadly, some teachers to whom students look to for guidance believe this. And even more tragically, some Dalits believe this about themselves and their children.
I often hear Nepalis making generalisations about castes. Tamangs are this way. Brahmins are that way. Newars are this way. One of the most horrible stereotypes is “This group is not smart. They are not capable.” Such comments are routinely made about many groups: girls, disabled children, and janajati, particularly Tamangs <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu/">Tharu</a>. It is probably most commonly said about Dalits.
Historically and even today, some 'higher' caste groups have considered Dalits of low intelligence. "In general,” one Dalit friend told me, “conservative Nepalis agree that Dalits’ fate — their Karma — is to serve non-Dalits with manual labour. They consider that Dalits have unintelligent minds — moto buddhi."
Another Dalit friend added, "From the very first day of childhood, children of lower caste are made to believe that they are worthless and fit for nothing. But upper caste children are made to believe that they are the purest and the most intelligent and then they alone have to get into education and professional work."
Read also: After quantity, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/">Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel
Even some teachers hold these beliefs. By far most of Nepal's teachers are from higher caste groups. One longtime teacher-friend (from the upper castes) explained the situation this way: “I’ve never seen active discrimination. That has decreased. But many teachers in their minds still hold negative concepts.”
I asked how these teachers thought about Dalit children. “They are dirty, they do dirty work, they can’t grasp ideas. Teachers won’t say this directly but that’s what they think. It’s in their minds still.”
Nepali teachers often <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/teaching-nepali-teachers-to-teach-better/">do not have good training of any kind</a>, much less effective training on anti-discrimination thinking. Thus they rarely have a deep understanding of systemic racism or generational poverty.
They tend to assume that the status quo is natural and inevitable -- they look at the world around them only long enough to confirm preexisting biases. If they see a Dalit student struggling, they are quick to blame it on caste genetics, not other factors, such as lack of opportunity.
"Jat janayo' (his caste is showing) is a common expression used to humiliate Dalits,” explains a Dalit friend in his forties. “Teachers used this stereotype sometimes when they found I was not performing well in school. As I look back to my school days, I find that teachers were biased about Dalits’ intelligence. They were prejudiced with thoughts that Dalits cannot perform well in class. They consider that reading and writing is not in Dalit culture."
A Dalit friend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chitwans-bote-people-in-a-changing-world/">Chitwan</a> says, "When Dalit students don't do well, it is blamed on their caste. No one says that maybe they never got a chance. Because if Dalits get a chance, they do great, just as well as any other group."
Worst of all, low expectations can shape reality, they can become self-fulfilling. Children can begin to believe the things said about them. They face obstacles because of poverty or other reasons, but begin to doubt their native capacity. ‘Believe that you will fail, and you are likely to fail. Believe that you can succeed and you will have begun to succeed,’ an American educator explains.
Some <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/">Dalit</a> children hear these negative stereotypes not just from higher castes but also from other Dalits, sometimes even from their own parents. A friend says, "Dalits also thought, and in rural underdeveloped areas continue to think that reading and writing is not their work and they are not born for these works.”
He adds, "Lower expectations and/or inferior feelings are widespread among Dalit families — both children and their guardians. They often express their feelings that “dalit le padhera ke paauchha ra?” (What benefits would an educated Dalit receive?)” or “Padhera ke po hune hora?”(What would a Dalit become after studying?)”
In other words, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-caste-struggle/">Dalits</a> have internalised the inaccurate myths about them created by the caste system. It is worth repeating Sarita Pariyar’s words: 'Stories about what one group can or cannot do carry tremendous power.'
This is, in effect, a new form of caste discrimination. Today Dalits may be allowed to attend school. They may be allowed to sit in seats like everyone else and in the front but they are still caged in by low expectations. It is just as bad as if they are not allowed to attend school.
Fortunately, the situation is changing. "Nowadays most of the Dalit children and adults don’t express low expectations about their own intelligence and educational potential," an interviewee told me. "Due to electronic media, they see so many doctors, engineers, singers, political leaders and others from Dalit community and these examples give them beautiful hope that even in the circle of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/caste-no-bar/">caste system</a> we can change ourselves into good people."
This is encouraging. Just as low expectations can be self-fulfilling, so can high expectations.
Tom Robertson is a historian and the former director of Fulbright Nepal.

Tom Robertson

Bigotry of low expectations

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/6372216d9c7e80680e0c02b8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"/><figcaption>Photo: RATNA SHAHI/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>As usual, when the wedding season kicked off last month, I received many invitations. However, not even one of them was a Dalit and non-Dalit tying the knot.Despite the belief that caste stigma is limited to the fringes of Nepali society, there is still much ‘<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/loves-victory-over-racial-hatred/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">selective openness</a>’ regarding marriage. Unions between castes may be accepted in some circles, but only to a certain extent.For instance, a Brahmin family may accept a Chhetri son-in-law but would resist a Newa daughter-in-law. Even educated Nepalis still practice caste-based discrimination, even through its branding and packaging may have changed from the past.Many of us in our 20s constantly get unsolicited advice on marriage and choosing the right partner: “पहिले जस्तो जातपात भनेर त हामी रोक्दैनौ, तर पनि चल्ने सम्म मात्र रोज्नु है” — We may not discriminate on the basis of caste, but make sure you chose the right one.Alas, this ‘well-intentioned’ statutory directive fails to offer tips on how exactly one is to find a genuine partner. Instead, it perpetuates a mathematical theorem to maintain <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/race-against-time/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">historical caste divisions</a>: Avoid mingling with the Dalits at all cost.Liberal Nepalis today will accept anyone – foreigners or Nepali – but only to an extent, and definitely not from the Dalit community.Inter-caste marriage may be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-is-turning-into-a-nation-of-hybrid-identities/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">more common than before</a>, but it has not eliminated discrimination. Activist Shiva Hari Gyawali tallies 60 reported caste-based deaths during the last 10 years, even after the implementation of the Caste-Based Discrimination and Untouchability Act (2011).Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Caste aside</a>, Sushma BaraliEvery year, there are many reported cases of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-caste-attack-turns-deadly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caste-based violence</a> as a result of inter-caste marriage. Nabaraj BK, Prakash Biswokarma, Ajit Mijar, Sangita Sunar – these are names that prove how deeply exclusionary marriage is even today.As whatever is personal is also political, the next step for any Dalit-ally advocating for the elimination of caste-based discrimination and violence is to promote safe space for inter-caste marriage between Dalits and non-Dalits. This may help demolish the ‘walls’ that divide castes, and help reverse centuries of injustice.The end of casteism does not just ensure justice the Dalit community but also for non-Dalits. One Brahmin restaurant owner says his parents objected to his establishment offering pork memos because “it is not in our culture”.This ‘culture’ is a toxic environment shaped by generations of patriarchal and casteist doctrines that forces hurdles upon anyone who wants to pursue their dream, be it in love or occupation.In Nepal, marriage is not just a union between two people or families: it ensures the transfer of social capital and financial resources. Removing social barriers to inter-caste marriage can be a potent tool to eliminate discrimination.Government policies to promote inter-caste marriage is mostly lip-service. A 2011 program to provide financial incentives for inter-caste marriages was discontinued ostensibly because of ‘fake marriages’ where couples separated soon after getting their money. But <a href="https://idsn.org/nepal-minister-breaks-up-inter-caste-marriage/">a report published in 2018 </a>indicates that the authorities were themselves engaged in breaking up the marriages.The Caste Handbook published by the Asian Human Rights Commission in 2019 shows that for every case of human rights abuse faced by a Khas-Arya and Janajati couple due to inter-caste marriage, there were almost 16 cases registered by Dalit and Janajati couples, and nearly 40 more for Dalit and Khas-Arya couples.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/i-never-thought-i-would-be-alone-this-early-in-life/">“I never thought I would be alone this early in life”</a>, Sushma BaraliThis difference in the varying degrees of acceptance of inter-ethnic and inter-caste marriages could be the driving force behind the separation of couples, which in turn may be furthering stigma against inter-caste unions.Activist <a href="https://cdwn.org/staff/1/">Gaura Nepali</a> of the Centre for Dalit Women Nepal says inter-caste marriages could be a powerful tool to end caste-based discrimination. This is also because a woman marries into a man’s house. The family can be an agent of change among their relatives and society at large.The Khas-Arya has always had transactional relationship with the Dalit community because they used to rely on Dalits to make their clothes, tools, and jewellery.While much has changed today with urbanisation, globalisation and mobility, much remains the same. That is why casteism is still rife while renting out rooms or conducting business. These are new forms of the same transactional relationship that our ancestors practiced.It is time for non-Dalit allies to commit to actionable solidarity with the Dalit community, and move beyond just verbal commitment. One should not wait for another <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/they-killed-our-son-and-now-they-are-killing-justice/">Nabaraj BK to lose his life</a> to speak against casteism.Promoting a neighbourhood’s Dalit artisan, participating in rallies and advocacy programs on Dalit rights, conversations at home with parents and grandparents about caste-based injustice, can be some ways to practice this solidarity.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/one-step-forward-two-steps-back-on-same-sex-marriage/">One step forward two steps back on same-sex marriage</a>, Gopal GartoulaRabina Luitel is with the Center for Dalit Women Nepal (CDWN) and recently participated in the Dalit Reader’s Writing for Social Justice course.

Caste no bar

<figure><img width="1338" height="731" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcab9c7e80680e0a0ba1jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Laxman Ramtel was recently appointed priest of the Ganesh Mandir in Godamchaur. Photos: HIMALKHABAR</figcaption></figure>One evening 20 years ago, Laxman Ramtel headed to Bhaktapur from Godavari to meet up with his friends.  When he arrived, Ramtel saw that one of his friends was shaving his beard. Thinking he too could use a shave, he attempted to borrow his friend’s shaving equipment. But another one of his friends stood up abruptly to stop him, proclaiming: "Dalits are not supposed to use the same blade as Brahmins and Chhetris." His friend’s words hurt Ramtel deeply. “I was humiliated and heartbroken that day,” he recalls. “I came back home and wept all night.” Many years later, a priest came around to his neighbourhood in Godamchaur on the southern outskirts of Kathmandu Valley, where Ramtel was born and raised, to tie the holy strings on people’s wrists during Janai Purnima.  His family, however, was treated differently. “The priest personally tied the doro on everyone else,” he says. “But when he learned that we were Dalit, he refused to approach us -- he tossed the holy thread at us from afar.” For Ramtel, the years before, between, and after these two incidents have been peppered with similar <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-caste-struggle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">discrimination</a>. He has experienced caste-based <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/caste-aside-dalits-battle-sitgma/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">prejudice and intolerance</a> all of his life, be it from strangers or friends, in a village or city, market or temple. But now, Ramtel is at the precipice of change. In July, he was appointed priest of the Ganesh Mandir at Godamchaur by the chief priest of the temple, Pandit Deenbandhu Pokharel. <img width="1703" height="999" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcae9c7e80680e0a0ba2jpeg.jpg" alt="">Ramtel, an electrician by profession, was overjoyed--to the extent that he briefly forgot about his past experiences. But soon enough, the worry began to creep back in. What if the people refuse to receive tika and blessings from a Dalit priest, he thought. “Although I was chosen because I was qualified for the job, I believe and hope that this decision contributes in some way in building a society without caste-based discrimination,” says Ramtel.oGenerations of Ramtel’s family have made their lives and livelihoods in Godamchaur. He grew up trailing along with his mother often during her visits to the Ganesh Mandir, and the temple is as much home to him as his own house. As such, Ramtel is a man of abiding faith. “I fast every Tuesday for Lord Ganesh, and I see him often in my dreams,” Ramtel says solemnly. “This opportunity might very well have been the fruit of my conviction.”As news of his appointment spread, Ramtel garnered encouragement and support from some high-profile civil society leaders, including Dr Govinda KC, who visited the temple along with social workers, writers, and legal practitioners to receive tika from the new priest to boost his morale. (Pictured, below) <img width="800" height="511" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcb19c7e80680e0a0ba3jpeg.jpg" alt="">“I was very happy to have received offerings and blessings from priest Ramtel,” said KC, while advocate Omprakash Aryal, who accompanied him says that he hopes Ramtel has been encouraged by the support.Priest Ramtel, for his part, was pleasantly surprised to have met KC and the team of civic society leaders in front of Godamchaur residents. "Today is among the happiest days in my life,” he said.Ramtel has participated in the conservation of the temple for years and was directly involved in its restoration when the 2015 earthquake destroyed it. In fact, the temple bell is still at their home and will be taken to the temple after it is fully reconstructed, says his wife Puja Roka.Ramtel’s day typically begins at four in the morning, when he makes his daily rounds of the holy pipal tree nearby before moving on to other tasks of the day. And although he has been worshipping the tree and the temple for a long time, Ramtel is unfamiliar with the rituals he will need to perform as a priest, and the protocols he needs to follow.  <img width="1800" height="1347" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcb49c7e80680e0a0ba4jpeg.jpg" alt="">But he has ample time to learn, with the temple reconstruction expected to be complete in three months. Meanwhile, he is adapting to his new circumstance, learning about the ins and outs of the temple and his life as its custodian. He is also reading the Bhagawad Gita and the Ramayana as he familiarises himself with religious texts ahead of his lessons with the chief priest Pokharel.Once he is done with the training, the hands that have helped light people's homes will also light the diyo oil lamps in the gods' home. <img width="1000" height="503" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcb79c7e80680e0a0ba5jpeg.jpg" alt="">Ramtel is also making tentative plans and schedules for the time after the temple reconstruction is complete. He intends to spend his mornings at the temple every day and entire Tuesdays. He wants to devote his time rebuilding and conserving other temples, idols, and places of religious significance around Godamchaur.His father Govinda Ramtel commends his son’s faith and attachment to the temple, which he believes was vital in his appointment by the Sanatan Goraksha Rashtra Nepal. But he also worries about the kind of reception he would get from the communities.“I hope that my son makes other people happy through his service, but I fear others will speak badly to him, make insulting remarks questioning the son of a Dalit being a priest,” says the 89-year-old.The young priest himself hasn’t forgotten the kind of treatment he received all his life for being a Dalit, and he is constantly thinking if he will face more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caste-based discrimination </a>as a priest now. He says: “I am a Hindu in the same way a Brahmin or Chhetri is, my faith in God is the same as theirs. God doesn’t care about caste, doesn’t discriminate, only humans do.”Links to Himal Khabar series on this subject:<a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125353" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125353</a> <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125374" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125374</a> Translated by Shristi Karki.

History in a house of worship

<figure><img width="1500" height="1125" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131152/636cf4009c7e80680e09d9a0jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Flood impacted Dalit house in Rajapur, Bardiya, in 2010. </figcaption></figure>Last week, the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) warned that this year's monsoon might cause <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-braces-for-monsoon-pandemic-double-hit/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">even more destruction in Nepal than last year</a>. And sure enough, when the monsoon arrived on 11 June it brought heavy rains across Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">triggering deadly landslides and floods</a>. Already, the death count is in the dozen, with many more missing. And this is just the start of the rainy season. Unfortunately, many people misunderstand the suffering caused by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">monsoon disasters</a>. They believe that monsoon-triggered landslides and floods hit all sections of Nepal equally. In reality, some people suffer more than others. In disasters in Nepal poorer  populations living in vulnerable areas, particularly Dalits, face greater burdens.  ‘Dalits are frequently the worst affected in disasters,’ says a 2013 International Dalit Solidarity Network report. ‘They are often systematically excluded from relief and recovery efforts.’  Dalits living on steep slopes and riverbanks and other marginal land face increased exposure to the landslide and flooding. In the mountains, Dalit settlements often sit on dangerously sloping land. The scattered Dalit settlements often lack electricity, drinking water and other basic amenities. And because of remoteness and neglect, development work and government services reach these communities last or not at all.   In the Tarai, exploitation and discrimination have pushed Dalits to live in more dangerous low-lying land where flooding is most severe, and they cannot afford to build pakka houses with raised foundations to better withstand flooding. The so-called upper castes live in elevated areas in pakka houses that remain intact during disaster. In an article ‘<a href="https://thediplomat.com/2017/08/floods-devastate-nepals-southern-plains" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Floods Devastate Nepal’s Southern Plains</a>’, Peter Gill and Bhola Paswan describe the deprivation of Saptari's landless Dalits. ‘Poor Dalits are living in a floodplain not because of their own choice. The historical, social and other factors forced them to live in flood prone areas,’ they note.  In local development work, disaster risk and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13868#.YMxeGC8w3BI" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dalit concerns often get neglected</a>  A few years ago, a Gulmi gaupalika constructed a rural road above several Dalit houses. Local elites reportedly forced construction of the road without any environmental impact assessment and without adequate participation of local Dalits.  During the 2019 monsoon, landslides washed away two of these Dalit homes, killing eight people. Many people believe that the poorly planned road killed the Dalits.   Non-inclusive development often escalates Dalit vulnerability. In public meetings, elites often drown out Dalit voices. For example, in 2013, in Khara, a remote Rukum village, the upper caste village secretary used the budget meant for Dalits for local road construction. He claimed Dalits along with non-dalits used the road. In reality, the road mostly benefited the upper castes.  They bought motorbikes and tractors to carry goods. But Dalit lives didn't change. Worse, due to haphazard use of the bulldozers, Dalit houses close to the newly constructed road faced increased risk of landslide.  <figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131152/636cf4049c7e80680e09d9a1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Unequal disaster responseDalits live in poverty, they lag behind in income and assets. Disaster-related stress can overwhelm them, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/after-the-coronavirus-the-deluge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caste inequities shows itself especially during time of crisis</a>. “Poor Dalits living in disaster prone areas lose whatever they have accumulated such as food grains or household assets throughout the year in recurring flooding. Urgent action is required by the government to break this vicious cycle of poverty and vulnerability,” says Kathmandu University's Purna Nepali, who recently conducted research on natural disasters and Dalits in Saptari and Siraha.In addition, Dalits often confront unfair practices during disaster response. In 2008, during the Kosi flood, Dalits faced unequal distribution of relief because of the lack of Dalit representation. Similarly, in 2017 Tarai floods Dalit families in Loharpattai, Mahottari reported discrimination in relief distribution. Local leaders favoured their caste group and political party cadres.For weeks, the Dalit families slept along the Janakpur-Jayanagar railway track. They were forced to live under an open sky.  Later, following media reports, another relief organisation provided tarps. In Bhaktapur in the 2015 earthquake local upper castes denied Dalits hot meals cooked in a community kitchen set up by a relief organisation. And upper castes did not want to share the shelter with Dalits. The practice of ‘untouchability’ was reinforced in the middle of the crisis, and they faced discrimination in receiving relief after the 2015 earthquake.In the time of disaster, Dalits lack a strong voice within the government and relief organisations. The government and relief groups tend to overlook caste discrimination and the vulnerable situation of Dalits. As a result, pre-existing vulnerabilities and exclusion expands.A ‘blanket approach’ to disaster relief programs usually ignores discrimination and untouchability. In the 2017 Tarai floods, one relief organisation targeted flood-affected Dalit families in Rautahat district because they were the district’s poorest families.However, a newly elected Ward Chairperson blocked the targeted distribution of relief packages to Dalits.  “Distribute to all the ward population," he threatened, "or else go to another location.”After days of non-cooperation from local authorities, the relief organisation pulled out of the district, leaving the flood-affected Dalit families deserted and distressed. <figure><img width="1500" height="1125" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131152/636cf4079c7e80680e09d9a2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>During disasters, Dalits also often face special difficulties overcoming bureaucratic hurdles. The privileged castes have आफ्नो मान्छे in government and get special treatment in relief distribution. ‘Upper’ caste people easily overcome legal hurdles, but Dalits face problems getting government relief because they lack legal documents.Nepal's Constitution has guaranteed the rights to housing and quality of life and outlawed caste-based discrimination. But in reality, Dalits face greater risks because of centuries of discrimination and exploitation.Dalits' weak presence in in decision-making processes leaves them without strong voice in disaster risk reduction and relief programs, trapping them in a vicious cycle of poverty.Relocation of Dalits to safer locations could address their historical exposure to disaster. Additionally, post-disaster rebuilding could allow for a new beginning. If handled appropriately, post-disaster rebuilding could address their vulnerability.During disasters, Dalits require enhanced attention from all sections of government and society. Awareness raising among relief workers about the pre-existing discrimination and vulnerabilities can help create inclusive disaster response, as can a proportionate number of relief workers from the Dalit community.Shikhar Sharma is a participant of Dalit Reader's Writing Workshop, an initiative for academic advocacy on Dalit issues.

Dalits, disasters and discrimination

<figure><img width="1500" height="1125" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b93369c7e80680e06f191jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Flood impacted Dalit house in Rajapur, Bardiya, in 2010. </figcaption></figure>Last week, the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) warned that this year's monsoon might cause <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-braces-for-monsoon-pandemic-double-hit/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">even more destruction in Nepal than last year</a>. And sure enough, when the monsoon arrived on 11 June it brought heavy rains across Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">triggering deadly landslides and floods</a>. Already, the death count is in the dozen, with many more missing. And this is just the start of the rainy season. Unfortunately, many people misunderstand the suffering caused by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">monsoon disasters</a>. They believe that monsoon-triggered landslides and floods hit all sections of Nepal equally. In reality, some people suffer more than others. In disasters in Nepal poorer  populations living in vulnerable areas, particularly Dalits, face greater burdens.  ‘Dalits are frequently the worst affected in disasters,’ says a 2013 International Dalit Solidarity Network report. ‘They are often systematically excluded from relief and recovery efforts.’  Dalits living on steep slopes and riverbanks and other marginal land face increased exposure to the landslide and flooding. In the mountains, Dalit settlements often sit on dangerously sloping land. The scattered Dalit settlements often lack electricity, drinking water and other basic amenities. And because of remoteness and neglect, development work and government services reach these communities last or not at all.   In the Tarai, exploitation and discrimination have pushed Dalits to live in more dangerous low-lying land where flooding is most severe, and they cannot afford to build pakka houses with raised foundations to better withstand flooding. The so-called upper castes live in elevated areas in pakka houses that remain intact during disaster. In an article ‘<a href="https://thediplomat.com/2017/08/floods-devastate-nepals-southern-plains" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Floods Devastate Nepal’s Southern Plains</a>’, Peter Gill and Bhola Paswan describe the deprivation of Saptari's landless Dalits. ‘Poor Dalits are living in a floodplain not because of their own choice. The historical, social and other factors forced them to live in flood prone areas,’ they note.  In local development work, disaster risk and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13868#.YMxeGC8w3BI" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dalit concerns often get neglected</a>  A few years ago, a Gulmi gaupalika constructed a rural road above several Dalit houses. Local elites reportedly forced construction of the road without any environmental impact assessment and without adequate participation of local Dalits.  During the 2019 monsoon, landslides washed away two of these Dalit homes, killing eight people. Many people believe that the poorly planned road killed the Dalits.   Non-inclusive development often escalates Dalit vulnerability. In public meetings, elites often drown out Dalit voices. For example, in 2013, in Khara, a remote Rukum village, the upper caste village secretary used the budget meant for Dalits for local road construction. He claimed Dalits along with non-dalits used the road. In reality, the road mostly benefited the upper castes.  They bought motorbikes and tractors to carry goods. But Dalit lives didn't change. Worse, due to haphazard use of the bulldozers, Dalit houses close to the newly constructed road faced increased risk of landslide.  <figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b93399c7e80680e06f192jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Unequal disaster responseDalits live in poverty, they lag behind in income and assets. Disaster-related stress can overwhelm them, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/after-the-coronavirus-the-deluge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caste inequities shows itself especially during time of crisis</a>. “Poor Dalits living in disaster prone areas lose whatever they have accumulated such as food grains or household assets throughout the year in recurring flooding. Urgent action is required by the government to break this vicious cycle of poverty and vulnerability,” says Kathmandu University's Purna Nepali, who recently conducted research on natural disasters and Dalits in Saptari and Siraha.In addition, Dalits often confront unfair practices during disaster response. In 2008, during the Kosi flood, Dalits faced unequal distribution of relief because of the lack of Dalit representation. Similarly, in 2017 Tarai floods Dalit families in Loharpattai, Mahottari reported discrimination in relief distribution. Local leaders favoured their caste group and political party cadres.For weeks, the Dalit families slept along the Janakpur-Jayanagar railway track. They were forced to live under an open sky.  Later, following media reports, another relief organisation provided tarps. In Bhaktapur in the 2015 earthquake local upper castes denied Dalits hot meals cooked in a community kitchen set up by a relief organisation. And upper castes did not want to share the shelter with Dalits. The practice of ‘untouchability’ was reinforced in the middle of the crisis, and they faced discrimination in receiving relief after the 2015 earthquake.In the time of disaster, Dalits lack a strong voice within the government and relief organisations. The government and relief groups tend to overlook caste discrimination and the vulnerable situation of Dalits. As a result, pre-existing vulnerabilities and exclusion expands.A ‘blanket approach’ to disaster relief programs usually ignores discrimination and untouchability. In the 2017 Tarai floods, one relief organisation targeted flood-affected Dalit families in Rautahat district because they were the district’s poorest families.However, a newly elected Ward Chairperson blocked the targeted distribution of relief packages to Dalits.  “Distribute to all the ward population," he threatened, "or else go to another location.”After days of non-cooperation from local authorities, the relief organisation pulled out of the district, leaving the flood-affected Dalit families deserted and distressed. <figure><img width="1500" height="1125" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b933c9c7e80680e06f193jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>During disasters, Dalits also often face special difficulties overcoming bureaucratic hurdles. The privileged castes have आफ्नो मान्छे in government and get special treatment in relief distribution. ‘Upper’ caste people easily overcome legal hurdles, but Dalits face problems getting government relief because they lack legal documents.Nepal's Constitution has guaranteed the rights to housing and quality of life and outlawed caste-based discrimination. But in reality, Dalits face greater risks because of centuries of discrimination and exploitation.Dalits' weak presence in in decision-making processes leaves them without strong voice in disaster risk reduction and relief programs, trapping them in a vicious cycle of poverty.Relocation of Dalits to safer locations could address their historical exposure to disaster. Additionally, post-disaster rebuilding could allow for a new beginning. If handled appropriately, post-disaster rebuilding could address their vulnerability.During disasters, Dalits require enhanced attention from all sections of government and society. Awareness raising among relief workers about the pre-existing discrimination and vulnerabilities can help create inclusive disaster response, as can a proportionate number of relief workers from the Dalit community.Shikhar Sharma is a participant of Dalit Reader's Writing Workshop, an initiative for academic advocacy on Dalit issues.

<figure><img width="934" height="442" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5a59c7e80680e0736d6jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Kalpana Nagari and Kalawati Auji from Godavari Municipality who face double discrimination from society for being Dalit and because their relatives tested positive for COVID-19 after returning from India. Photo: UNNATI CHAUDHARY</figcaption></figure>Across Nepal, it is the already under-served and vulnerable who have been affected by the prolonged lockdowns. But it is the Dalit returnees from India who have tested positive and their families who face double discrimination.The Ministry of Health issues a daily tally of COVID-19 cases, but no one is counting the poorest of the poor who are dying of hunger or pre-existing diseases, or have been have been driven deeper into destitution.Kalpana Nagari, 30, works as a day labourer by the roadside in Godavari Municipality to earn enough to feed her two children. This time of year there are plenty of jobs planting or weeding paddy fields, but she is unemployed because of social stigma after her husband, Tika Narayan, tested positive for COVID-19 last month.Tika Narayan Nagari had returned from India after he lost his job there on 15 May. He tested positive was quarantined altogether for 50 days first at the border, and later because of delays in getting his test result. But even after he got out, the Dalit family has been shunned by neighbours and society.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-long-journey-to-nepal/">The long journey to Nepal</a>, Upasana KhadkaHer family used to face discrimination even before because they were Dalit, but COVID-19 has added another layer of prejudice. Even that is not what worries Kalpana the most – it is not earning enough to feed her family.“Without work, how are we going to feed our children that is what I am most anxious about,” says Kalpana, who does not have a house of her own and lives with her sister-in-law. Her husband had to go to India to find work to repay a loan he took for his mother’s funeral.“During every meal, I worry about where the next one will come from, and I feel faint,” says Kalpana. “The landlords did not give me any work in the rice fields because they said ‘your husband has corona, you might also be infected’.’” Kalawati Auji, 40, is also from Godavari and raised her three sons all by herself after her husband died nine years ago. Her eldest son died last year, and her youngest has heart disease. Her middle child, Dipak is 22 and worked in Bareilly in India. It was the money Dipak sent home that allowed Kalawati to pay for food and medicines for her daughter-in-law, son and grandson.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside/">Caste aside</a>, Shusma BaraliBut Dipak lost his job and returned to Nepal on 30 June. He tested positive for COVID-19 and was confined in a quarantine for 34 days where he was ostracised both for being infected, and for being a Dalit. After coming home, he quarantined himself in a cowshed for a week.But even after he recovered, the family has been harassed and humiliated by neighbours. Neither Dipak not Kalwati can find a job, and they owe a neighbourhood provision store Rs50,000.Says Kalawati: “This pandemic has come to kill the poor like us.”  Fifty-year-old Harish B K also returned from Bareilly in the first week of May. Among the 234 people whose swab samples were taken, Harish was among 70 who tested positive – only two of them were non-Dalits.“The non-Dalits in the quarantine used to get hot water, lunch, and more food than us. If we asked for more food, they would ignore us,” he recalls. Now out of quarantine, but jobless, deep in debt, and facing double discrimination and humiliation, Harish says he often has suicidal thoughts.  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/workers-return-to-jobless-nepal/">Workers return to jobless Nepal</a>, Ramu SapkotaGodavari Municipality says it has plans to provide farm subsidies to the most vulnerable during the pandemic and lockdown. Deputy Mayor Ratna Kadayat says the plan will give priority to Dalits, women, and marginalised communities under the 'Prime Minister's Employment Program'.But these future plans are a mirage for most Dalit families like the Nagaris, Aujis and BKs here. Their needs are urgent and immediate, and they have heard these promises before.Rights activist Savitra Ghimire at the Dalit Women's Rights Forum (DWRF) says the relief may be too little too late for most Dalit families. Godavari and the Attaria highway intersection are hotspots for a surge in coronavirus cases. In the past month alone, the area got 4,000 returnees from India, and of them 349 tested positive and 294 have recovered and gone home.  However, being virus-free is just the beginning of the struggle for Dalit families here in western Nepal. As more and more districts re-impose lockdown, business is not expected to pick up soon, and this means fewer options for employment. And even if jobs open up, Dalit returnees and their families here will be the last to get them.­­­Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/they-killed-our-son-and-now-they-are-killing-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">“They killed our son, now they are killing justice”</a>, Shusma Barali<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/">Black lives matter but Dalit lives don't?</a>, Pratistha Rijal

COVID-19 sharpens caste discrimination in Nepal

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

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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