When he was a teenager years ago during the war, the Maoists who held sway over the Dalit village of Muktikot in western Nepal promised Man Bahadur Bishwakarma liberation and prosperity. Many like Man Bahadur believed in that utopia, and took up arms like others from the downtrodden Dalit community here. They even renamed the village Muktikot (Fort Freedom) from its original Dumkot. ‘Dum’ is a derogatory term used to address the Dalit community. Muktikot is spread across a steep mountainside with unirrigated terrace farms. Most of the men migrate to India for seasonal work, others never come back. The women left behind had to walk hours for water, and since there were no roads then, travelling to town for government subsidised rice took at least a week. “The Maoists told us that we would find jobs right here in the village, that every household would have tap water, they promised an end to caste discrimination,” recalls Man Bahadur. “That is why I joined the revolution in Grade 10.” He is talking while walking up a steep trail three hours from Muktikot, where his family has been living in a cattle shed after a landslide damaged his house in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051804058_bc4d26d047714332fcdd2242229a1227d207a972439e02e3c822aaa118066b3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024051804058_bc4d26d047714332fcdd2242229a1227d207a972439e02e3c822aaa118066b3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Th remote village of Muktikot in Bajura district in far west Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Most of Muktikot’s young population joined the Maoists, convinced that changing the name of the village was proof this was going to be a real revolution. Eighteen years after the end of the conflict, the only thing that has changed for the nearly 2,300 Dalits in Muktikot is the name of their village. Not that there has not been some progress. There are now motorable roads and residents do not have to walk as far as Kalikot or Dailekh to get a sack of rice. More essentials are available in local shops for those with cash. Man Bahadur himself migrates to India to earn money, and had just returned for a break when we talked to him. “I fought for the Maoists in the hope that I would not have to go to India for work, but there are still no jobs here,” he says. “The Maoists promised a mirage.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051804058_fcd64c34f689e7a4d44f285bb6a7b6b28329941e2766440ab208c9039a855d31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024051804058_fcd64c34f689e7a4d44f285bb6a7b6b28329941e2766440ab208c9039a855d31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Men in Muktikot preparing to migrate to India for work.</figcaption> </figure>  Birth and death Manbuja Bishwakarma has just turned 20, the minimum legal age of marriage in Nepal. But she has been married since age 13, giving birth to five children, three of whom died. “The babies just died one after the other,” recalls Manbuja, who just had to have more babies in the hope that some would survive. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/how-the-climate-crisis-adds-to-child-marriage-in-nepal">How climate crisis adds to child marriage in Nepal</a>, Sonam Lama Her neighbour, 30-year-old Lalkala Bishwakarma has given birth eight times, and only four babies survived. There are women in Muktikot who gave birth to as many as 14 children, and there is not a single mother in Muktikot who has not lost a baby.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051804058_dd4d62e65cc4ac88cd46a91a62b9c60bcb2d43bbc5cb5455dc7efe4a7d2ff1b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024051804058_dd4d62e65cc4ac88cd46a91a62b9c60bcb2d43bbc5cb5455dc7efe4a7d2ff1b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Lalkala Bishwakarma</figcaption> </figure>  Tilakhuni Bishwakarma, 40, had 10 children, and eight of them survived. Sitting outside her home, she is now surrounded by her grandchildren. Despite Nepal’s total fertility rate now dropping to near replacement level, here in Muktikot infant mortality is still high and this means women have more babies in the hope that some will survive. Child marriage and low female literacy contribute to the high rate of maternal and infant mortality. Community health records show that even in 2021, eight out of 45 infants born in Muktikot died. While Nepal’s average infant mortality rate dropped to 33 for every 1,000 babies born in 2022, &nbsp;the rate was 178 in Muktikot. “The most prominent among the many reasons for the high maternal deaths are early marriage and frequent pregnancy,” says Janaki Neupane, a community nurse in Muktikot. &nbsp; Four years ago, Bachchi Bishwakarma died of a hemorrhage while giving birth to her second child at home. Her husband Gorkha says she had barely survived giving birth to their first child. “I was home alone that day, and I took care of her,” Gorkha recounts. “Our child was born, but my wife bled to death.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040512_4718183318c77de8bb9b719346b9b19c96bef0984055585b00884f741f905c2e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240518040512_4718183318c77de8bb9b719346b9b19c96bef0984055585b00884f741f905c2e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Tilakhuni Bishwakarma</figcaption> </figure>  Birthing centres were opened in Muktikot last year to address high infant and maternal deaths, but Nurse Neupane says it still lacks basic equipment and budget. Nirmala Bishwakarma got married when she was 13 and was &nbsp;pregnant soon after. She had her first baby, but soon got pregnant again. “Birth brings death here,” Nirmala, now 20, says simply. Nirmala and her children all look emaciated and she weighs only 33kg. Bajura’s district headquarters in Martadi provides nutritional allowance, but Nirmala cannot afford to travel that far to get it. &nbsp; Nepal’s development indicators, including lifespan (page 1) and poverty rate have shown dramatic improvements over the past three decades. But here in Muktikot, hunger stalks the land. In fact, a recent survey showed that 95% of women, children and young adults in Muktikot are undernourished. Most men, on the other hand, look well fed because they are mostly away in India for work. &nbsp; Only 12% of the land in Bajura is arable, but even then there is lack of irrigation, frequent droughts, and now climate breakdown contributing to the lack of food. “The harvests are just not enough to sustain the families,” says Bharat Bahadur Rokaya, chair of Swamikartik Khapar Rural Municipality where Muktikot is located. Here in the rugged mountains of northern Bajura bordering Humla and Mugu, the families grow millet, maize, and wheat, but Nirmala Bishwakarma says the harvests hardly last a month. “If it was not for the subsidised rice we would have empty stomachs,” she says. Hindrances to hygiene Down the mountain from Muktikot, the green waters of the Karnali River are visible. But the 400 Dalit households here have to share just three community taps for drinking water. Half the households do not have toilets, and defecation in the open is common. Donor agencies have helped build toilets, but these are mostly used to store fodder because there is no water. “How can we use water for the toilets where there isn’t enough for drinking?” asks Ward chair Ajay Bishwakarma. &nbsp; Families have to walk for four hours to bathe and do washing. “We do not wash our clothes for months on end,” says Kushi Bishwakarma, 40.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040516_e234d5b4fac4fa24e62e65a35f2eafbfb044a32a5f8ef8172932eca96eeaa17b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240518040516_e234d5b4fac4fa24e62e65a35f2eafbfb044a32a5f8ef8172932eca96eeaa17b" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="733" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot hygiene"> </figure>  The lack of water has compromised hygiene and sanitation in the village, resulting in diseases like diarrhoea, allergies, and other health issues, especially among children. Lack of water in the village has also led to uterine prolapse among the women in Muktikot since they primarily face the task of ferrying heavy jars of water from the communal taps to their houses The ‘One house, one tap, one toilet’ campaign introduced by the rural municipality this year hopes to solve water-related issues for Muktikot residents. But that is yet another election promise. Testing times This underserved village is not just affected by structural inequality and state neglect. In 2021, a landslide swept away 54 houses in Muktikot, and most families lost homes and what little arable land they had. “Earlier, we at least had a house to live in, now we don’t even have that,” says Muktikot resident Asal Bishwakarma. “We have been living with relatives since. How will we survive?” More than two years after the landslide, not a single house in the village has been rebuilt. Each family was allocated Rs500,000 in relief on an instalment basis, with aid from all three tiers of government.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040516_26ebf9b2f52722180b1b403b1410f19ea5c7d0321047b099a574a35519706914.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240518040516_26ebf9b2f52722180b1b403b1410f19ea5c7d0321047b099a574a35519706914" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1433" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot landslide"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040516_bbe50221dca556ac0e798843d672f1190abafacb82fa792bfec289eeb31ad013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240518040516_bbe50221dca556ac0e798843d672f1190abafacb82fa792bfec289eeb31ad013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot landslide"> </figure>  Asal has only received Rs35,000 so far, and has spent it all on buying food. No one knows where the promised money went. Muktikot residents now want their entire village relocated somewhere safer. &nbsp;The local government agrees that resettlement is necessary, but it was unable to find a suitable alternative. “It is not possible to resettle such a large number of people at one go,” says Bajura MP Badri Pandey. “We also cannot create jobs for all of the population at once.” Muktikot might have been declared liberated on paper during a war fought in the name of Nepal’s downtrodden, but this Dalit village is emblematic of promises not kept. Looking around the landslide scarred village he has spent half a century of his life in, Muktikot’s Dhanajay Bishwakarma laments, “We are not even considered humans by the state.”

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Muktikot still waiting for liberation

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd90c9c7e80680e0801f0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="566"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Durga Sob, politicianDurga Sob was born in Doti, and was sent by her family for higher studies in Kathmandu in 1980. She had faced caste discrimination in Nepal’s culturally conservative far-west, and had thought educated and prosperous Kathmandu could be different.How wrong she was.In college picnics, at the student dormitory, in the classroom, Sob faced the same ostracisation and taunts of fellow students from the so-called ‘upper’ castes that she used to get in Doti.She got a job at Action Aid even while at college, and in 1988 she met American rights activist Robin Morgan. They talked a lot about how Nepal’s gender activism was not inclusive, and it left out women perceived to be of a ‘lower’ caste.Morgan helped Sob set up her own group. Forty years later Sob is still running her Dalit Women’s Organisation which by now has grown to become nationwide. Sob rented a flat in Kathmandu and kept two rooms as her office and two rooms to live in.Soon, the landlady found out that Sob was a Biswakarma, from the Dalit community. The usually friendly woman became hostile, and gave Sob notice to move out immediately.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd90f9c7e80680e0801f1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="449">Sob went flat-hunting throughout Kathmandu without hiding her caste, since she did not want to face the same problem again. But that made it even more difficult for her to find an office and residence space to rent.“I asked many people for help, no one came forward,” Durga Sob recalls. “In the end, I lied about my caste and soon got a flat. But even then, they would find out and harass me by cutting off my water supply or electricity to drive me out. I have had to move so many times in Kathmandu because of my caste.”In 1995, Sob was invited to attend the Beijing International Women’s Conference with other Nepali women activists. She had to share her hotel room in Beijing with a Nepali, but because she was a Dalit, none of the other conference participants from Nepal agreed to share a room with her.“That was the worst day of my life, I wept,” Sob remembers. “This was an international conference on women’s rights, the Nepalis were gender activists, and yet this was happening.”In 2001, Durga Sob was nominated member secretary of the newly established National Dalit Commission. But the discrimination did not stop. She says: “Dalit women have to face double discrimination: first because they are women and second because they are Dalit.”Sob was convinced that the only way to resolve caste racism is through politics. So, she started becoming politically active, but even in politics she found prejudice against Dalits. First, she joined Baburam Bhattarai’s Naya Shakti Party as a coordinator, hoping that its progressive agenda would help in her struggle.“I got that position because of my ability, but I started feeling pressure, there was a feeling that a Dalit women should not have a leadership role. I should have been a deputy chair or general secretary, but I was demoted to being a secretary,” she says.Durga Sob is now a central committee member of the People’s Socialist Party, but she has no illusions about ever rising to a position higher than secretary. She concludes: “When racism is direct and open, we can resist it. But when it is hidden, it is difficult to endure and fight against.”Yash Kumar, singerYash Kumar’s father was a Brahmin and his mother a Dalit. When he was 10 years old his parents brought him to Kathmandu from Sarlahi. He did not have to face racism while in the Tarai because he was quite young, and he was not discriminated against in Kathmandu because he had a Brahmin surname. However, when he was making his citizenship papers, he added ‘Pariyar’ to his formal name.It was after he became a well-known singer and famous for a hit song about untouchability that Yash Kumar started really feeling societal discrimination. A sister of his best friend with the Brahmin surname ‘Acharya’ was getting married, and he came over to give Yash Kumar an invitation card to the wedding. But he said the invitation was just for formality, and that he should not come to the reception.“He told me he did not believe in untouchability but his parents did not want his Dalit friend to attend the wedding,” he recalls. “It was like something pierced my heart.”Yash Kumar relates many other incidents where he faced ostracisation because of his caste. He would even hear friends cast derogatory remarks about Dalits either because they did not know he was one, or because they thought he was out of earshot.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9129c7e80680e0801f2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="806">One well-known film actress once confided to him: “You are different from other Dalits in the way your think and speak. You must be mixed.”Yash Kumar says he reacts immediately when someone mistreats him because he is a Dalit, but it is more difficult when the discrimination is subtle. “I feel really sad that there is such behaviour in a city where there are supposed to be educated and conscious people,” he adds.Rekha Pariyar, student leaderUnlike other Dalits who face direct and indirect prejudice, Rekha Pariyar has been physically assaulted because of her caste. After her family moved to Kathmandu from Chitwan, and started being treated differently by the neighbours. They could not draw water from the community tap, and were not allowed into the corner tea shop.Rekha’s father and brother had a tailor shop. In 2012, they brought a sewing machine and other equipment in a rented pickup, but the driver asked for money more than was agreed upon. An altercation ensued, and the neighbours beat up members of her family, hurling racist slurs against them.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9159c7e80680e0801f3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="456">It took a long time for the police to arrive at the scene, and they took Rekha and her injured family members to hospital where her father and mother had to spend three weeks. Police in Maharajganj refused to accept her complaint. Only after appealing to Prime Minister Sushil Koirala did the police register the case, but even though this became a high profile media story, the perpetrators were never caught.Rekha Pariyar rose up the ranks of the student union, and used to deliver fiery speeches against caste discrimination. But her political colleagues would not eat with her, even though they travelled and did everything together.She says: “It is even more difficult to fight discrimination when it is so entrenched in supposedly better educated people in the cities.”B B Anuragi, singerBorn in Baglung, BB Anuragi was at the receiving end of racial discrimination. But when he came to college in Pokhara, the ostracisation got much worse. He got into an argument and a fist-fight when fellow students wanted to keep him out of the student dormitory. But after that he could not rent a room anywhere. He finally found a room with two other friends, but he had to move out when their parents were visiting.He started singing at a local gazal restaurant, but had to move multiple times when landlords cut off his water supply or harassed him when they found out that he was a Dalit. There was a Newa landlady who had a room, and he told her he was a Dalit. But her reply surprised him: “It does not matter to me what caste you are as long as you are a decent person.” She was an exception.In 2003, Anuragi moved to Kathmandu, but here the discrimination was of a different nature than Pokhara. “In Kathmandu people did not bring up caste directly, but would insinuate things which was difficult to counter,” he says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9189c7e80680e0801f4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="448">Even to this day, he notices that people’s demeanour changes completely when they find out he is a Dalit. Neighbours do everything together, but do not call him for their parties or festivals.“I am a singer, and I pour out my anger in my songs, but this is Kathmandu, the message is restricted to the songs, it does not change too many people,” Anuragi says.Sona Khatik, Radio Station ManagerThroughout her life, Sona Khatik grew up suffering from caste discrimination. Her life story indicates that caste stigma is more entrenched in the Tarai than in the mountains.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd91b9c7e80680e0801f5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="881">“I like to report from the field instead of dealing with people in the office,” says Khatik who worked her way up from being an intern to the Station Manager of Community Radio Kapilvastu.“Even so, I often notice people’s attitude change after they find out I am a Dalit. They talk down at me,” she says. “They ask me my caste and profession of my parents, and when they find out I am a Dalit they actually tell me I must be a non-Dalit because of my senior position.”In 2012, she had gone to interview a senior official at a government office. He did not even tell her to sit down in the sofa, she had to take the interview standing up. Because caste discrimination is now punishable by law, the prejudice is also more subtle.One of Khatik’s close friends eats with her, but when she is invited to her friend’s house she has to eat outside the kitchen. “It really affects me when close friends do that,” she says. “I just stopped going to her house.”Khatik says it is difficult to counter discrimination when it is so indirect. “We are invited to functions, but the organisers often treat non-Dalits differently than Dalits. Often, they just ignore me. So, I have just stopped going to such functions. I counter indirect stigma with an indirect boycott.”Holi Nepali, tourism entrepreneurNepali Dalits face discrimination even when they are abroad. And Holi Nepali, who runs Top of the World trekking agency in The Netherlands, has a direct experience of this. Nepali was born near Pokhara and through the kindness of trekking agency operator Rajiv Shrestha she got a good education. She stayed with his family, so others did not treat her badly then.When some people in Nepal used to ask her what her caste was, she would say she was from the leather worker ‘Sarki’ caste. They would reply: “You are so good looking even though you are a Sarki?”She started working in Shrestha’s trekking agency where she met a Dutch national and got married to him, and started living in The Netherlands in 2012. But even there, caste discrimination has followed her.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd91e9c7e80680e0801f6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="434">Nepali has a Nepali Chhetri friend whose relatives admonish her for hobnobbing with a Sarki. During Nepali gatherings, she has heard many Nepalis advise others not to marry outside their caste groups.“It seems that no matter how educated you are, no matter if Nepalis are in Europe, they cannot rise over bigotry,” she says.Shanti Paswan, activistShe was born and raised in a town in the Madhes and never had to face discrimination in her home town of Siraha. That may have been because she grew up in a Tamang majority neigbourhood. However, after she became older and got involved in social service activities, she faced discrimination at every step.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9219c7e80680e0801f7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="437">In 2012, when she wanted to stand for election to a school management committee she was forced to step down because of her caste. Her rivals thought she might win, so they threatened and intimidated her. “After it got nasty, I thought is just was not worth it,” she says.Because it is illegal to openly discriminate against a Dalit, the educated ones pass snide remarks to put them down. “They will not say it directly, but if there is someone who not good-looking or if there is an undesirable person around, they describe them as ‘being like a Dalit’. If there is a crime anywhere, it is a Dalit who is the first suspect,” Paswan says.She has developed her unique way of dealing with such racism. “If it is someone who is just not aware or are illiterate, I let their slight go, but if it is someone who should know better, I come down hard on them.”Bhuwan Singh Biswakarma, ex-soldierHe is one of the few Nepalis who has even been to Antarctica. Bhuwan Singh Biswakarma was born in Baglung but moved to India when he was 10, and later joined the Indian Army. He joined an expedition to Antarctica, and says he was never treated different because he is a Dalit.However, after retirement and return to Nepal he has been facing discrimination in his own homeland. “Earlier, even the educated people used to discriminate on the basis of caste, but now because it is illegal to do so, there is a different more roundabout kind of discrimination,” he says.Biswakarma says such indirect treatment manifests itself in friends who do everything together, but stay apart while eating. Once, he was drinking tea with a friend when he inadvertently touched his glass. The friend got up and left saying he did not feel like having tea that day.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9249c7e80680e0801f8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="362" height="417">“I always know they are doing it because of me, but how do I fight that?” asks Biswakarma who now lives in Butwal. “Close friends do not invite you for weddings and other parties at their home. It hurts.”Purna Lal Biswakarma, engineerEven if a Dalit is an engineer, he has to face discrimination. In fact, no matter what senior position they hold, even if they are rich, or hold high office, Dalits still face caste discrimination from a society that should know better. Engineer Purna Lal Biswakarma is living proof of that.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9269c7e80680e0801f9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="350">Born in Kusma of Parbat district, Biswakarma grew up with other Dalits, and did not face stigma for being from a ‘lower’ caste. Even when he enrolled in an engineering college in Kathmandu, he did not really face much discrimination.It was after he gave his Public Service Exam that he started facing the brunt of the injustice. After joining the Irrigation Department, he had to travel across Nepal. It was in Baitadi in far-western Nepal where he had to face the worst treatment even from co-workers.He still remembers the discrimination from a close friend and long-time colleague who was getting married. Everyone got an invitation but him. He was invited for a reception later, but did not go because the ill-treatment affected him deeply.“They talk to you with respect, but as soon as they find out you are a Dalit, the tone changes completely,” Biswakarma says.Purna Nepali, professorHe was born in India and was raised in Kapilvastu where he faced ill treatment, abusive language and discrimination every step of the way while growing up. But it was after he moved to Kathmandu that he had to face other kinds of poor behaviour. He joined the United Nations Gender Mainstreaming Project and was assigned to Myagdi where he faced caste violence from his own colleagues. They did not drink water from a bottle that he had touched. “They never said anything bad, but their behaviour was appalling,” Nepali remembers. It affected me deeply at a psychological level.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9299c7e80680e0801fajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="521">In 2008, he had gone to Bajhang and Doti for research into his PhD and it was difficult to get a room for the night. “Dalits did not have room, and non-Dalits would not give you a room,” he remembers. “There have to be stricter laws against caste discrimination, and they need to be enforced. The only way to reduce this racism is through a zero tolerance policy.”Centre for Investigative Journalism- Nepal

Caste aside, Dalits battle stigma

One aspect of colonial cartography of South Asia leaps out in this must-see exhibition – while the coastline of India, Ceylon, Burma are extraordinarily accurate in maps made more than 200 years ago, the Himalayan hinterland is wholly approximate and inexact. The accuracy improves as modern survey techniques are introduced by atlas-makers, but even then formidable terrain and forbidden lands thwart precision. Map aficionados will be fascinated by the 40 antique maps from The Rajbhandari Collection on display at the exhibition ‘Imaging South Asia: Nepal in the Making at Kathmandu Art Gallery’ at Baber Mahal Revisited from 13 February - 17 March.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_0cbeb88674a97c6292e2b43b2135df219257ca641cbd4723e9aabf5541c2b258.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260211090252_0cbeb88674a97c6292e2b43b2135df219257ca641cbd4723e9aabf5541c2b258" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="3485" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  The first maps were made on clay tablets and cave paintings, but maps improved with Chinese maritime charts of Southeast Asia and beyond. Nautical maps created during the European Age of Exploration used geometry, latitude and longitude. Competition for colonial riches rested on the accuracy of these maps. The Portuguese had the lead in the 15th century, but were soon overtaken by the Spanish with Columbus voyaging to India but landing up in the Americas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_1fb21d20cf29b408119f5279ce666e73dee089356e52277d753a27e3440364eb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260211090252_1fb21d20cf29b408119f5279ce666e73dee089356e52277d753a27e3440364eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="4030" height="3407" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  European mapping of the coastline of peninsular India &nbsp;began after Vasco de Gama sailed around the Horn of Africa to arrive at what is now Kerala in 1498. The British and French struggled for control of India, and the Carnatic Wars of the 19th century were extensions of their rivalry in Europe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_0fb0969dc3e07c5a77123b4aa5eb0f11d2ffea73c108077f7e4d1892d6bd4bb6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260211090252_0fb0969dc3e07c5a77123b4aa5eb0f11d2ffea73c108077f7e4d1892d6bd4bb6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2842" height="4160" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  While most of the maps at this exhibition were commissioned by the East India Company and the Survey of India, there are quite a few made by Parisian cartographers and feature Pondicherry and the Danish trading outpost at Tranquebar. Followed chronologically, the maps show improvements in cartographic techniques. The earliest French map L’Inde of J D Barbié du Bocage from 1760 is a copper engraving with hand painted colours demarcating boundaries. ‘Napaul’, ‘Gorka’ and ‘Catmando’ are depicted. The rivers of India are precisely drawn, as is the Brahmaputra (Yarou Tsanpou) even though locations across the rest of Tibet are rough estimates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_486dc1b12f391550516be164f27170d4702a69b5125c1b8c4b10f76fdae4c0b1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260211090252_486dc1b12f391550516be164f27170d4702a69b5125c1b8c4b10f76fdae4c0b1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1675" height="604" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  The 1781 map Carte des Indes en deçà et au-delà du Gange of Rigobert Bonne has slightly more detail about Nepal with even ‘Pattan’ and ‘Bagmally’ river marked. William Darton’s 1802 map has ‘Nogarcot’ and ‘Mocaumpour’ wrongly placed to the east of the valley of ‘Napaul’. Samuel Arrowsmith’s 1828 map ‘India and the Birman Empire’ has Nepal’s rough boundaries demarcated for the first time within a hand-coloured green border, with the mountain ‘Dholagiri’ and ‘Dhunchi’ appearing for the first time. The 1835 map by Boston-based American cartographer Thomas Bradford has a more precise ‘Burrampooter’ river with ‘Sgigatoe’, ‘Lassa’ and ‘Bootan’ marked. In Nepal, ‘Batgan’, ‘Macwampour’ and ‘Lelit Pattan’ appear near ‘Catmandu’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_5509c8e043a74b3e34e399c0684ca8eef7fc79953ee0dd18aedc738e8189d552.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260211090252_5509c8e043a74b3e34e399c0684ca8eef7fc79953ee0dd18aedc738e8189d552" data-rendition-name="original" width="4094" height="3646" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  One striking landmark appears consistently through a century of map-making from 1760 onwards, and that is the sacred Yamdrok Tso near Lhasa. It is precisely located, although it is drawn as a circular lake called ‘Jamdro or Palto Lake’ till J Bartholomew’s lithographic map in 1893 Constable’s Hand Atlas of India. Bartholomew’s map is also where ‘Mt Everest’ appears for the first time with its altitude ’29,002ft’ after Peak XV was calculated to be the highest mountain in the world by the Survey of India. Meanwhile, ‘Kinchinjunga’ appears in some of the earlier maps from the mid-1800s, north of ‘Dorjeloo’. The maps did not only have locations of towns, rivers and mountains but also other interesting facts about places. History buffs will find much to pore over in these maps.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_8280c979b175946a2ac29e22b7a2b2427f7f36f22093c3456524f1f529311498.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260211090252_8280c979b175946a2ac29e22b7a2b2427f7f36f22093c3456524f1f529311498" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2762" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Many have sites of major British battles while conquering India. The ‘British India’ map by J Rapkin has dates and times of the ‘Principle Massacres’ during the Indian Mutiny of 1857. The map also shows India’s growing railway network with completed lines and those ‘in progress’. Narrow gauge lines can be seen in successive maps snaking up to the Nepal border to haul sal logs for sleepers for India’s expanding railway network. Many maps were drawn by British military intelligence. One even has the Kuti route of the Nepal Army while invading Tibet in 1791, and the Chinese Army’s advance in hot pursuit through Kerung to Nuwakot.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_a41ff6a7453f95d1e83c12ed3f831911d65ebd4d2389e0e3b774252dfa037132.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260211090252_a41ff6a7453f95d1e83c12ed3f831911d65ebd4d2389e0e3b774252dfa037132" data-rendition-name="original" width="1173" height="679" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Pre-1857 maps show the western Tarai as a part of British India, but in later ones the Naya Muluk districts of Banke, Bardia, Kailali and Kanchanpur have reverted back to Nepal. The maps clearly mark Nepal as an independent nation, and represent it differently from Indian princely states. The Atlas of India of 1846 shows the ‘Dominion of the King of Nepal’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_52132146d9ee8b922560b98e90d866149715d7f53ced408b5f3af8f3b142a07b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260211090252_52132146d9ee8b922560b98e90d866149715d7f53ced408b5f3af8f3b142a07b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4149" height="3682" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Visitors will be curious about Nepal's claim to Limpiyadhura and Lipu Lek. A map by Mason &amp; Payne from 1846 clearly shows the ‘Kallee River’ as being the border between Nepal and British India, with Kalapni within Nepal. The Lipu Gad tributary (which India claims is the border) is not marked. Some other maps, however, seem to show the border not following the Kali river to Limpiyadhura but the tributary up to Lipu Lek.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026021112024_9a1b6055a9fbecca7b64c3882c205efb336aac03e64ecf43a2044cb079cd699f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2026021112024_9a1b6055a9fbecca7b64c3882c205efb336aac03e64ecf43a2044cb079cd699f" data-rendition-name="original" width="875" height="1215" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Imaging South Asia: Nepal in the Making&nbsp; Kathmandu Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Revisited&nbsp; 13 February – 17 March For guided walk-throughs and curatorial tours: +977 1-5318048 Panel discussions: -Cartographic Practices from the &nbsp;Gorkha Polity to the Present with Buddhi Narayan Shrestha and Kanak Mani Dixit&nbsp; Friday, 13 February, 4pm -Mapping Beyond Borders with Akhilesh Upadhyay and Amish Raj Mulmi Wednesday, 25 February, 4pm&nbsp;

Map land

The recent Nepali Times Substack post titled ‘Unresident Nepalis’ made me realise I also belong to the category of Nepalis who are technically Non-resident Nepali (NRN), but want to ‘permanently reside inside Nepal’.&nbsp;
Although this was meant as a joke, it is ironic that many of those who go abroad long to come back home, and those who have not emigrated cannot think of a good enough reason to stay back in Nepal.&nbsp;
As soon as the NRN Citizenship was officially introduced in late 2023, I had tried to apply for one but was shut down before even submitting my documents as the district administration office firmly told my then lawyer that I needed to prove “तिन पुस्ता” proof of three generations of Nepalis from my father’s side.&nbsp;
My late father was from Japan and relinquished his citizenship to become a Naturalised Nepali citizen in 2006. Three years ago, I dismissed the rejection with the thought that I will try again later when government officials would gain more experience with such applications.&nbsp;
Now, with an ailing mother and an energetic toddler, I felt the need to act soon and reached out to a law firm that specialises in NRN citizenship applications. To my surprise, they were positive after reviewing my documents, although they did warn me that we may need to overcome some obstacles.&nbsp;
In 2023, I had applied in the district office where my father had received his naturalised citizenship, but now the suggestion was to try from the district where my mother had received her Nepali ancestral origin “बंसागज” citizenship.&nbsp;
The lawyers pointed to the NRN citizenship mandate which clearly states that it can be acquired via a Nepali origin father, mother, grandfather or grandmother. The firm helped arrange the necessary documents required and the first step was to get a “सिफारिस” &nbsp;recommendation letter from my mother’s ward office.&nbsp;
This was the first hurdle as the ward office was unsure if they could issue such a letter, so they checked in with their head office, and luckily we received the go ahead. After persistent follow up from the law associates, they were able to provide us with a recommendation letter and we filled out the application forms.&nbsp;
The law firm wisely suggested that I take the paperwork myself to my mother’s district office while they stayed in the background in case I needed help explaining my situation.&nbsp;
With a big smile and cheerful tone, I dutifully followed the process and to my surprise, I found most of the officials ready to help without creating unnecessary hurdles. The application has to be signed off by the Chief District Officer (CDO) or Assistant CDO and just when I thought wow, I am going to breeze through this, one officer noticed that my father’s naturalised citizenship was from a different district and told me that I should apply for my NRN from there.&nbsp;
I explained that my father has already passed away and as he was not originally a Nepali, therefore it is not possible for me to get my NRN from his documents, as the requirement is ancestral “बंसागज” citizenship. The officer then went to check with their seniors and later told me that I would need police verification as an extra precaution.&nbsp;
Off I went to the police headquarters where they issued a sealed letter to be given to the police station that was in the same vicinity as my mother’s ward office. At the station I was told to get four people who are not my relatives to testify our documents are true.&nbsp;
This process happened to be more stressful than dealing with the government offices. At first, it turned out that most of my mother’s old neighbours had already passed away or had citizenship papers from another area. Others confirmed their availability, but later had conflicting schedules. Luckily, one very helpful old neighbour was able to arrange for enough people to verify the documents.&nbsp;
Encouraged that the end of the tunnel was in sight, I went back to the district office with all the requested documents, and after some initial pushback, I was finally referred to meet the official who signs off the documents before it goes to the CDO.&nbsp;
As luck would have it, the officials were in a meeting that lasted more than two hours, and I had to give my mother her insulin shot and noodles from the cafeteria in the waiting area.&nbsp;
When we were finally able to meet the officer, he didn’t even look at my papers properly and started questioning my lawyers whether they had even read the law, how could I apply for Nepali citizenship when I already had a Japanese passport, etc. He somehow assumed that I was looking to get a normal Nepali citizenship from my mother’s side, and we informed him that I was only looking to get an NRN citizenship, after which his tone became more apologetic and said that he would need to look into the law more closely.&nbsp;
It had already been three full days of working through each step of the process, and I had no problem waiting another day for the conclusion.&nbsp;
Perhaps because this NRN citizenship is a fairly new law and perhaps a lot of NRNs apply from the Nepal’s embassies in their country of domicile, throughout my experience, officials kept on telling me that a case such as mine has not been processed before.&nbsp;
My case being that I have never had a Nepali citizenship, my father having a naturalised Nepali citizenship and my mother being the only 100% Nepali in the family. I kept on saying that just because it has never been done before does not mean that it cannot be done, and sure enough, the next day the officer signed off on my documents, even kindly saying that they should have highly respected my application upon learning about my late father and his contributions to Nepal.&nbsp;
Although the intricacies of the NRN citizenship law have not been fully hacked out such as the transfer of land ownership, it is definitely a positive step in securing the rights and aspirations of fellow NRNs as many would agree that no matter where we go, “यो मन त मेरो नेपाली हो!”&nbsp;
Sonia Miyahara, Managing Director of Hotel Everest View, Trans Himalayan Tours &amp; Trekking Pvt Ltd &amp; Himalaya Kanko Kaihatsu Co. Ltd.

How I got my NRN Citizenship in Nepal

Besides being an election year in Nepal, 2026 is also the year of anniversaries. It is exactly 30 years since the Maoists launched their armed struggle on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/13-february">13 February 1996</a>, and it was on 27 April 2006 that the ceasefire came into effect after a month of massive pro-democracy protests.
Alas, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/not-ever-again">three decades on</a>, the decade-long conflict that claimed 17,000 lives has been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/ghosts-of-war">air brushed from our history</a>. For the survivors, and the families of those disappeared and killed, memories of loss and suffering are fading. The party that fought the war in Mao’s name has dropped it.
It is important on this day to remember not to forget that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3203">violent decade</a> -- so that it does not happen again, and so the youth movement that has led to this election will also not be in vain.
The 8 September 2025 rally, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">the massacre that followed</a>, and the nationwide mayhem and carnage the next day were largely a result of public anger boiling over. Nepalis had been let down repeatedly by rulers promising revolution in the name of the ‘people’: from the 1990 People’s Movement I, to the Maoist ‘People’s War’, and the 2006 People’s Movement II.
There are some positive residual effects of the insurgency. One-third of the Maoist militia was <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-sibling-war-juna-rai,731">composed of women</a>, this empowered not just the female guerrillas themselves, but indirectly made a whole generation of young women aware of their rights.&nbsp;
The peace process itself resulted in the Maoists entering the democratic mainstream, and the induction of many of the guerrillas into the national army – a rare occurrence after a conflict.
The ceasefire was followed by an interim government, and the first elected <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-letter-and-spirit">Constituent Assembly</a> abolished the monarchy in 2008. Deadlock over the model of federalism meant a second election had to be held in 2013, and the new Constitution <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/by-the-way/new-constitution-should-adopt-inclusive-democracy-with-federalism-republicanism-secularism,538">finally promulgated in 2015</a>.&nbsp;
That statute was supposed to devolve political decision-making away from Kathmandu to autonomous provinces, improve inclusive representation of women and hitherto excluded castes and ethnicities at all three levels of government, ensure accountability and good governance to generate jobs and lift living standards.
There were seven governments in ten years after 2015, and tottering coalitions one after another failed to fulfil any of those provisions in the Constitution. There were subliminal gains in representation of women thanks to affirmative action, but as this election shows, women candidates are still used as proxies by patriarchal parties.&nbsp;
Since the two warring sides of the Maoist war both became the state, sharing power in dozens of coalition cabinets since 2006, they colluded to bury the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-unpunished-war-crimes">transitional justice process</a>.
The former supreme commander of the Maoists Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) has become prime minister three times in the last 20 years. He is contesting this election from Rukum East, where he marked the 30th anniversary of the start of armed struggle on Friday.
The word ‘Maoist’ has been erased from the Nepali Communist Party which Dahal formed with more than a dozen other smaller leftist outfits. His main rival, Janardan Sharma, quit the Maoists and is standing for elections in Rukum West.
Both former comrades are competing for the hearts and minds of people of this former base area from where the Maoists went on warpath on 13 February 1996 by attacking a police station in Athbiskot, and simultaneously on targets in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7812">Holeri of Rolpa</a>, Sindhuli and Gorkha.
The former ideologue of the Maoist party, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/20-years-wasted-in-war,2850">Baburam Bhattarai</a>, was the architect of the revolution while Dahal was the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6369#.Y-XIii8w1KM">executor</a>. Bhattarai submitted a list of 40 demands to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a> (during his first tenure as prime minister in 1995) but did not wait for a reply before launching the armed struggle.
The Maoists felt that the constitutional monarchy after 1990 was too feudal, and a patronage-driven parliamentary system too slow to bring about change. Besides, the democratic parties were accused of using state security to prevent Maoist candidates from winning elections.
The Maoists followed Mao’s Red Book to the letter, attacking police stations, looting weapons and targeting local elected governments, eliminating ‘class enemies' with summary executions.&nbsp;
They destroyed telecommunication towers, highways, bridges and airfields in remote areas. Threats forced health posts, schools, post offices to be withdrawn from areas where people needed them the most. The country’s development was pushed back decades.
Nepal in the early 1990s was ripe for revolution. There was inequality, social injustice, exclusion, and the political parties in Kathmandu were too busy squabbling to do their job. The Maoists wanted an end to the monarchy, but in 2001 the monarchy imploded with the royal massacre.
ABSOLUTE POWER
King Gyanendra succeeded his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8338">murdered brother</a> to the throne, and took the country back to absolute rule with a military-backed coup in 2005. Within a year, street protests forced him to step aside. And by 2008, it was too late to save the monarchy.
We can look back as far as we want to the roots of the Maoist conflict. It can be blamed on elected leaders post-1990 who abandoned the people once in power, the 30 years of partyless Panchayat system that stifled dissent and let social pressures build up, or even 100 years of Rana rule.&nbsp;
It was the prolonged indifference on the part of successive rulers in Kathmandu that fed public discontent. These accumulated grievances were also the reason for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">September 2025 events</a>.&nbsp;
During China’s Cultural Revolution, Mao Zedong said: ‘The old has to be uprooted to be replaced with the new’, and that could almost be the anthem of the GenZ movement and this election.
The objective conditions that drove the Maoist insurgency 30 years ago are still evident today. And much will depend on the government(s) that will be formed after March.&nbsp;

Remembering not to forget

As Nepal mourned its dead in the September violence and public buildings smouldered, former Chief Justice Sushila Karki was installed as prime minister to pull the country back from the brink.
She gave herself six months to conduct elections, and has gone about achieving that goal with a single-minded sense of purpose. Supporters praise her poise and decisiveness, while others fault her for not pursuing justice for the death and destruction, and postponing the release of the inquiry commission yet again.&nbsp;
But that also highlights her steadfastness to hold free, fair and peaceful elections on 5 March, and not allow it be derailed by distractions. It has not been easy for the 73-year-old — she has had to balance radical calls for scrapping the Constitution while appeasing entrenched leaders of established parties.&nbsp;
Karki has displayed patience, determination, foresight, and, above all, a deep love for country. It has been a lonely struggle, no doubt.
The very youth who voted for her on Discord demanded her resignation, &nbsp;she had to cajole discredited leaders to take part in polls, and she was not dismayed when her chosen ministers abandoned the government to contest polls. And this is not to mention geopolitical demands that must be happening behind the scenes.
This being Nepal, there is endless speculation about who is ‘pulling the strings’. Yet her record both as chief justice and interim prime minister offer ample evidence of integrity and principled leadership.
Regardless of geopolitical interpretations of her intentions, Karki is a Nepali leader through and through who has lifted herself from the highest judicial office to the highest executive position, adhering to both mandates.
Organising national elections within five months was a formidable task, which many doubted — and are still doubting — can be accomplished. Karki has worked closely with the Election Commission, security forces, and mainstream political parties to ensure participation.&nbsp;
In doing so, she has set an example not only for Nepal but for South Asia. Bangladesh, which went through its own GenZ protest in 2024 and held elections on Thursday offers a study in contrast. The Awami League and its exiled prime minister who was deposed have been banned from front contesting, there is growing influence of the Jamaat-e-Islami-led alliance.
Her first address to the National Assembly on 2 February was characteristically candid. She laid out the facts sequentially and emphasised Nepal’s most urgent priority: holding elections on schedule and transferring authority to elected representatives. Timely election was the only constitutional path forward, she said.
She acknowledged that GenZ activists had pressured her to appoint certain individuals to her Cabinet. She had to personally persuade Kulman Ghising, Mahabir Pun, and Jagdish Kharel to join her Cabinet. Others she was advised to induct turned out to have controversial pasts, and she was forced to rescind the nominations. She admitted Pun resigned as education minister because he could not get legislative proposals passed.
Educated, professionally accomplished, known for her frugal lifestyle, Karki has distanced herself from the culture of excess often associated with power, and has turned down multiple invitations for foreign junkets.
Her meeting with editors at Baluwatar in December was a breath of fresh air for Nepal’s jaded journalists used to excessive displays of power and pomp. Her frankness about threats from the GenZ and pressures from disgraced party leaders drew gasps.
In the last five months, Karki has attempted to restore a sense of governance anchored in constitutional duty rather than partisan ambition. But Nepal’s problems have been decades in the making, and it would be unrealistic to expect an interim government to solve all of them at once.
Nepal now stands at a crucial juncture. Leadership alone cannot safeguard democracy, elections alone do not guarantee legitimacy. That must come from delivery, performance and accountability. Citizens casting informed votes on 5 March will determine whether Karki’s handover to leaders capable of placing national interest above party and personal agendas.
In a region where democratic transitions often falter, Nepal has another chance to demonstrate that home-grown movements, constitutional discipline, and principled leadership can coexist.&nbsp;
Whether this moment becomes a turning point depends not only on one leader, but on the collective resolve of the nation and polity.
Watch a timelapse video of how Anup Tamu drew this portrait of Sushila Karki, <a href="https://youtube.com/shorts/tchdBwBZDJE?si=PD9Sd3__t-1-lILh">here</a>.&nbsp;

dalits

Muktikot still waiting for liberation

Caste aside, Dalits battle stigma

Map land

How I got my NRN Citizenship in Nepal

Remembering not to forget

Mission (nearly) accomplished