This is the 56th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. <h2>Heera Tirwa</h2> I was just 13 when I married an India-born Nepali from Achham. &nbsp;An arranged marriage, I first saw my husband only at the wedding ceremony. I moved to India from Achham when I was so young that I associate my childhood with Mumbai instead of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100124_fcc447c7d7436ff80312e71a4cfcdbaae9610dff932ec2398c57c75eb256fa19.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250110100124_fcc447c7d7436ff80312e71a4cfcdbaae9610dff932ec2398c57c75eb256fa19" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="Heera Tirwa"> </figure>  My father, also a watchman in Maharashtra, did not visit us when my children were born despite living just a 10-hour drive away. I had to accept the fact that my mother who was in Nepal would not visit me, but my father’s absence hurt. I wrote a letter reminding him that his responsibility as a father does not end simply because he married me off. Navigating new responsibilities at such a tender age far away from home, I needed his attention. My father then visited us and lifted my spirits. Years have passed, filled with both happy and sad moments. &nbsp;Access to education, health, jobs and road networks is better here. But the cost of living is high and making ends meet is difficult, especially in single-income households. That is why I also work full time at a company that makes nuts and bolts. We are so invested in our children’s education and future that we overlook all the hurdles in life. In the old days, someone’s departure from the village to Mumbai would draw a crowd, with people asking them to deliver letters and gifts to their loved ones. This flow of people between our villages and Mumbai ensured we were up to date with news including of childbirths, marriages and deaths on either side, despite the absence of phones and internet. I still cannot believe it took me 13 years to make my first trip back to Achham from Mumbai. It was a reunion filled with tears and embraces, especially with my mother, much like my departure years ago. <h2>Chandra Singh</h2> I grew up in Doti. My mother passed away when I was around four years old, so my five siblings and I pretty much raised ourselves. Even at that age, I took care of my younger siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100128_a03c86a5cf2d7fd396d331b54114613fdd4350ec89aef8f0d150fb3ccb364369.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250110100128_a03c86a5cf2d7fd396d331b54114613fdd4350ec89aef8f0d150fb3ccb364369" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="Chandra Singh "> </figure>  I do not know exactly when I came to India from Doti, it must have been over 40 years ago. But I vividly remember weeping non-stop till I reached Dhangadi en route to Mumbai with my new family. The next time I visited Doti was years later, accompanied by my three children. My father-in-law worked as a watchman in Mumbai. My husband, who is no more, was born here and also worked as a watchman. &nbsp;Many Nepalis like my father-in-law who had permanent jobs moved their families to India. Housework including taking care of my grandchildren and elderly mother-in-law keeps me busy, but I continue to work as a part-time household help for an Indian family. I mop and wash dishes which provides me some spare cash to supplement my sons’ earnings. Back in our village in Nepal, one can rely on agriculture and livestock to sustain ourselves. There are social networks to lean on during difficult times. One can borrow or even beg. You won’t go hungry. Someone or the other will check on you. Here in the city, all you have is your hard work to rely on. You can eat only if you work hard. <h2>Kamala Tirwa</h2> I was a bright student growing up in Mahendranagar. I had completed Grade 9, and also taught adult literacy classes to women in my village, so they knew how to sign or to read letters.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100128_f98f1d4217aa5bc1e5d727d84a4a457ef9b8314dd0f4db497b8b78d07d03ae3e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250110100128_f98f1d4217aa5bc1e5d727d84a4a457ef9b8314dd0f4db497b8b78d07d03ae3e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Tirwa"> </figure>  I also spread awareness against HIV stigmatisation.These engagements exposed me to a world beyond my four walls, expanding my knowledge as I interacted with diverse people, underwent training from organisations, and taught classes. It was also fulfilling as women showed up for the classes after finishing their household chores and participated intently. To complete SLC was a big deal in our village, especially for a girl, and I was so close. But my parents decided to marry me off to an India-born Nepali at 16. I knew of him as he sometimes visited from Mumbai during his vacations and played football with the village boys. My son, who is now in his twenties, is still a baby in my eyes. I was significantly younger than him when I got married. Yet, I was expected to know how to manage a household and fulfill my responsibilities as a wife, daughter-in-law and mother. We also did not have access to tv or internet back then. Children these days are so knowledgeable. We were living in the dark age and did as we were told. Even after all these years, a part of me regrets not completing my education despite being a good student. What was the point of being studious in my circumstances? I remind people to study hard because education is such a privilege. I am invested in my sons’ education. The elder one is now doing a bachelors in AI and data science. Just as my in-laws returned to Nepal after we settled down in Mumbai, we too are considering returning to Nepal after our children are settled. <h2>Suresh Singh</h2> I cannot believe it has been 34 years since I came to Mumbai. For most of us Nepalis, जन्मभुमी (land of birth) and कर्मभुमी (land of work) are two separate geographies. Like my father, I worked as a watchman. My grandfather, too, worked in Mumbai in a mill.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100128_d3ca3227f428b8711ab76f617deab6e74df2302f2715a6a489512f5fb2b51067.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250110100128_d3ca3227f428b8711ab76f617deab6e74df2302f2715a6a489512f5fb2b51067" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Singh"> </figure>  I am now the Security Head, the highest position at my company. The city provides opportunities for those willing to seize them. In my case, I should have used the time outside my 8-hour shifts to complete my education or take skills-based training so I could be competitive in the labor market. The realisation that education is important came late to many of us. My wife was back in Achham, while I worked in Mumbai. She passed away when my son was just one-and-a-half years old. It was difficult to comprehend the news, and I rushed back. I forced authorities to let me on the flight from Tikapur. I was going to leave anyhow, even if it meant having to stand on top of the plane. Grief can make you act in strange ways. In my white clothes, shell-shocked and filled with raw emotions, I must have been quite the sight. They eventually provided me with a seat. My mother raised my son until he reached five, after which I brought him to Mumbai. As a single parent, I don’t think I was able to provide him the kind of guidance that is needed during children’s formative years. Work obligations to provide for him often took precedence. Thankfully, he grew up just fine. He recently left his secure banking career to start his venture in digital advertising. He does not have any memory of his mother. We don’t have a single photo of her.&nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

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The tale of four Nepalis in Mumbai

This is the 55th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. Trying to escape being recruited by the Maoists, and running out of options in Nepal, I dropped out of school and paid Rs300,000 to a recruiter to take me to the UAE on a tourist visa.&nbsp; I was stranded there for two months, and just as my visa was about to expire, I landed a job in the warehouse of an American base in Afghanistan. Within three months, I got promoted to a Senior Supervisor which irked some of my colleagues who had been working there for seven years. I was already also feeling discriminated against by my Nepali colleagues, except one colleague from Taplejung who had a good heart. One day, a bomb exploded in a container with food items, killing nine people. I had enough and returned to Nepal. When you are so close to death, you reassess your life choices. In my 17 months in Afghanistan, I had earned close to Rs3 million which helped me buy land and build a house. In Kathmandu, I came across an ad in Kantipur for Korean language classes, and without even returning to Janakpur I enrolled. The EPS language test was just 58 days away, and there were people who had been preparing for the Korean language test for up to three years. The odds were stacked against me. I studied for the exam as though my life depended on it. I aced the mock exams. I ranked first out of 600 students, and this reminded me of my childhood when I was a class topper. It was the financial situation that had made me discontinue my studies. I managed to pass the exam, the only person out of the 36 living in our rented building. I went to Korea and worked in manufacturing. Three months into my stint, my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I came home for a month to take care of him.&nbsp; Even if I did not have liquid cash, I knew I had a job waiting for me in Korea and could have borrowed money to take my father to India. My only priority was to keep my father alive. But the doctor said his case was terminal.&nbsp; He was discharged from hospital, and we brought him home. As I left for Korea, he could not speak properly but acknowledged that I was leaving and gestured his blessings. He died a week later. I was at work, and went to my room to grieve. I declined my employer’s offer to buy me a ticket home as I had already lost my father. I mourned for him for a week in my room. In the five years there, I repaid the loans I had taken for my father’s medical bills and even had some savings. I could have renewed my contract in Korea for another five years, but I decided against it.&nbsp; Of course, it was exhilarating to be paid Rs200,000 a month in my bank account, but I had worked for others all my life, and now that I had made some money, I wanted to do something on my own in Nepal. The technical skills I had accumulated working in a car company were not very applicable here. But I also learnt many other things in Korea like work ethic, respect for peers, and discipline. I bought a used machine that makes notebooks and set up Rudraksha, a notebook factory.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  I hired a former worker from the same factory I had bought the machine from and he taught me how to operate it and about the stationery business. Seven years later, he is still working with me.&nbsp; It is in Korea that I learnt how bosses and staff work side-by-side and there is no task that is too big or small. I know that when I work with my staff, it makes them more proactive. I used to deliver the notebooks on my bike to shops all over my district and beyond. Later I diversified and took on dealership of brands like Natraj, Cello and Doms. This spread out my income sources naturally because it was related to my notebook factory . Things were going well until the pandemic hit and I suffered a huge loss. The notebooks in stock were all damaged. I was idle, so I became a dealer for Bikaji and expanded to other brands like Horlicks, Nestle, Dabur Nepal and Tokla tea. As things recovered, my brothers and I dabbled in a shoe factory. Other than instinctively knowing that there was a high demand for affordable shoes in our area, we did not have any prior knowledge or experience in this sector. It was a gamble and the upfront investments were high, but fortunately it has worked out well.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  Our company, TNT, has good designs and finishing at affordable prices and it has attracted customers across Nepal. While there are challenges like fierce competition and high bank interest rates, we are doing quite well for ourselves.&nbsp; Across my portfolio, I am providing jobs to 122 workers. I first started with a Rs150 business as a kid selling plastic bags in a vegetable market for Rs1.25 each. I have come a long way since then. My work has given me recognition in my area, even though I tend to be quite introverted. My community members who have watched me since I was little tell me that I am a legend in the tea shops as someone who rose from nothing to be a successful entrepreneur.&nbsp; With my father’s salary as a teacher, we did not even have money to buy school uniforms. I value hard work and that is what I tell young people. When I am on someone’s payroll, I take ownership of the work. I do not let time dictate my work schedule.&nbsp; If I can stay an extra ten minutes to solve something, I do not leave it for tomorrow. Little things like this matter. For those of us without a strong family back-up, foreign employment can be beneficial. But I have also met a few people who were overseas who are still there.&nbsp; Their children are now also overseas. Those stories are a bit disheartening. I am not sure why things are that way. Perhaps people overspend and do not prioritise savings? I was one of the first workers in Korea from our Maithili community and I did not have many friends from the Tarai there. Towards the end of my stay there, I met a few here and there. Many from our villages opt for overseas employment opportunities where agents just hand over their visas at a price. I remind young people to be patient and take up language classes so they can benefit from higher paying jobs.&nbsp; Working hard has not stopped even now. I want to leave a legacy. Let’s see what the future holds. My next goal is to start a pen factory. &nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal

This is the 54th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. <h2>Kumar BK</h2> I have enjoyed playing the flute since I was a young boy. I used to play it in the forest while tending to my cattle or collecting firewood near my village in Khotang. But I am a self-taught musician, I have never played professionally. I know I am not as good as other professional flute players like those I often watch on YouTube. Reaching that skill level requires professional training. It took me a lot of practice to reach my present level. My learning was interrupted because of going overseas. Growing up, my father was always abroad: first in Malaysia and then Qatar. I stayed with my maternal uncle, and childhood was a constant struggle. I had to help my grandparents with the family business, so I only got to attend school thrice a week. Even then, I somehow passed Grade 12. My father returned for good, and in 2014 it was my turn to go and work in Malaysia. I did not manage to save much because of household expenses. My brother has health problems, and a lot of my savings went for his treatment. After three years in Malaysia, I went to Dubai in 2020. Because of a bad contract and Covid-19, things did not work out as I anticipated. During the lockdown I spent a few months in my room without work or pay. Eventually I did get a good job, but after two years my contract was not renewed because of slow business. I came home last year and am now headed to Qatar. Let’s see how things go this time. When my father was away, he used to write home once every few months. We received news of his well-being with much relief. Times have changed now.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241214021252_bd2e1b0d8050a884a0efe8ae78bd0d95053424b62ebe6d5bb5a086b07b4bcd8c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241214021252_bd2e1b0d8050a884a0efe8ae78bd0d95053424b62ebe6d5bb5a086b07b4bcd8c" data-rendition-name="original" width="963" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kumar BK DD 54"></figure>  With my father sending money, we were able to afford household expenses. Before my father left, we lived in a bamboo shed with a small room, but now we have a house and land. He lifted us to a state where we no longer have to worry about affording food or a roof on our heads. Other hardships remain. As a son of a migrant, there was always the expectation that he would bring us a mobile phone. It is only later after working overseas that I realised it is not so easy. My overseas experience did not lead to much progress. We had many unanticipated expenses that took precedence: someone falling ill, someone falling down and needing hospital care. Random expenses left few savings. I have now realised that it is difficult to make progress from migration alone if we do not have other ways to supplement our overseas earnings. If households back home can cover basic expenses like food, overseas earnings can be channeled to more productive investment to uplift the family. If remittance from one family member is the sole income source, then we migrate just to survive. Migrant workers like me have just one goal: to earn as much as possible in a limited timeframe. I am headed overseas again with the same thought. Back in my village, I look for a quiet, shaded spot in a nearby forest to play my flute by myself while tending to livestock. I am often away now, but my neighbours in the village say that when they hear the sound of a flute from the forest, they know I am home. I am taking my flute with me to Qatar. I will practice in my room in my free time. Playing it in my room will give me comfort. <h2>Deepak Darji</h2> I was very young when I lost my father. After that my mother also started falling ill. Before that, our family was doing just fine financially. My childhood was not easy because of her poor health and my father’s absence. School was not really a priority. I had to make sure my mother had the medicines keeping her alive. I had household chores like cooking. My mother often reminded me to go to school, but how could I? The responsibilities were on my shoulders from a young age. At least now, she is getting a cash grant from the government that has eased things a bit. Over the years, I have been doing odd jobs. Things are not easy and finding regular work is difficult in the village. As a musician, I am part of a पञ्चे बाजा troupe that plays at weddings and other rituals. If the event is far from where we live, we make about Rs4,000 and if close by, it can be up to Rs3,000. The frequency of events varies. Some months we have four or five, while at other times it is less. Over a decade ago, I went to Dubai but did not get to work or earn as planned despite spending almost Rs200,000 in fees. I had to rely on fellow villagers in Dubai for help, but they told me this was not a sustainable way to live overseas. They were right. I came home before the end of my contract, and was heavily in debt because I could not save enough to pay my recruitment loans. In fact, I had to borrow additional money to sustain myself while in Dubai.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241214021252_9c68e45a42623952ca8be0e97e8f45f10851f90e5ab33b3646ccbca962666f06.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241214021252_9c68e45a42623952ca8be0e97e8f45f10851f90e5ab33b3646ccbca962666f06" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Deepak Darji"></figure>  After returning, I have migrated to various places in India including Shillong, Lucknow, Delhi and Mumbai to work in construction or hotels. I also did short term police duties during the election in Nepal, and the earnings helped while getting to serve the country. I have tried to go overseas again but the first failed experience left a deep scar in my psyche. It was difficult to trust people who said they would find me jobs. I also did not have the Rs300,000 fee they demanded for a job in the Gulf. For Malta they wanted up to Rs800,000. I could not afford such high costs. Now, I have six children to take care of along with my wife and mother. I was finally able to go overseas because the job did not require any recruitment fees. After all, we migrate in the hope that something will work out. Just about everyone is leaving from my village. The well-to-do ones go to Japan and Australia, and people like us to the Gulf. I am taking my shehnai oboe to Qatar to practice during breaks, or when I am bored. Eventually, I will have to come home and resume performing at events, so I cannot afford to get rusty. I had previously taken it to India as well and fellow Nepalis would sometimes ask me to play after a hard day’s work. Our house in the village is known as the ‘radio house’ because the radio is always on. When my grandfather was alive, people would come over to listen to farming programs and radio dramas. He used to encourage fellow villagers to adopt the farming practices that the radio programs talked about. Even today, the radio plays throughout the day, and if it ever stops, people are startled by the silence and say: “कस्तो सुनसान भयो”. Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Migrating with the music of Nepal

&nbsp;This is the 53rdedition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. I was the first migrant to the Gulf from my village of Chagariya of Dhanusha district. We had heard of people who had gone to Saudi Arabia from neighbouring villages and done well for themselves.&nbsp; There were five children to feed and raise, and we did not have much land. Foreign employment seemed like a good choice. After I left in 1992, many others from my village also became migrant workers, including relatives. I have vivid memories of the day I left home. The whole village showed up to drop me off at the bus station. It was like a wedding. My family members wept, they did not know if I would come back alive. There was so much uncertainty. Nowadays migrating has become so common that people come and go without anyone knowing.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_c15bcbb869d4335ebf5c6bc91ae754982453df2e180299b03eb3f198f8c7c327.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024112410118_c15bcbb869d4335ebf5c6bc91ae754982453df2e180299b03eb3f198f8c7c327" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Ram Dhani Yadav with his family.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113110_19fd8eadc8fe5ea082dc8ad899dd19643daca0bc7638c1db6e7175a56b56e9dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024112113110_19fd8eadc8fe5ea082dc8ad899dd19643daca0bc7638c1db6e7175a56b56e9dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1768" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> </figure>  Getting on the plane was scary. I had a window seat and the flight attendant helped us with our seat belts and offered us food. I chose the vegetarian meal, and even though they offered beer, I stuck to Dew. Someone from the company was waiting for us at Dammam airport. And the heat! It burnt all the hair on my head. It was impossible without AC. But even in Nepal the heat is suffocating now, and it is hard working on the farm. Seems like we imported not just money, but also the heat from Saudi Arabia. After a couple of months as a labourer, I lost interest in the work. Luckily, I got a job as a company barber since I had experience. I cut the hair of fellow workers from Nepal, India, Pakistan, Korea and the Philippines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_e8c60f57bd767053f067400da4fcf76514662d4bd418a011b72a30356a3633d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024112410118_e8c60f57bd767053f067400da4fcf76514662d4bd418a011b72a30356a3633d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Barbers' tools that Yadav used after he got a job as a company barber in Saudi Arabia.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_ff2a87da06735fa254b9a10e35fa5163527fbe939421b875150dd02b9adde17c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024112410118_ff2a87da06735fa254b9a10e35fa5163527fbe939421b875150dd02b9adde17c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Yadav with the mirrior he used for his side-job as a barber.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;The workers did not have to pay, but if they liked it they gave me handsome tips, fruit juice or even a crate of canned Pepsi. I chatted in Hindi with the Indians and Pakistanis. Those working in scaffolding, welding or drivers earned more and tipped better. Low paid workers left less tips, but I did not mind. I worked in the company’s hair salon which had a fancy revolving chair and big mirror. For off hours and holidays, I had my own makeshift barber corner in camp as my side hustle. I bought my own mirror, hung it on a rod and my clients sat on a stool. I would also drop by one of the salons in the market to earn some extra cash on our days off. Times were different back then. There were no mobiles and my wife had to travel a long way to receive calls on a CDMA phone from Ram Dayal’s shop at a pre-arranged date and time. The calls were brief because they were expensive.&nbsp; We had more detailed communications through cassette tapes that we sent each other. Whenever I felt homesick, I listened to the voices of my wife and children over and over again – especially the girls who were always loud and chirpy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113110_d91691006f5ab08532b5a2e76e737c2dfd9edcff175bd5617f9053a4269f17ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024112113110_d91691006f5ab08532b5a2e76e737c2dfd9edcff175bd5617f9053a4269f17ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="2056" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>This is the cassette tape case Yadav had sent home from Saudi Arabia over three decades ago. His handwriting reads: Sender: Ram Dhani Yadav, Saudi Arab (Dammam) Receiver: Sita Devi Yadav, Ward No 3, Chagariya, Nepal </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113114_86cc0ffc1a1df040656a31f8876f2d48cc50b6f1f96b4ee8840c2174fce45c98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024112113114_86cc0ffc1a1df040656a31f8876f2d48cc50b6f1f96b4ee8840c2174fce45c98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1791" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> </figure>  When I missed my family, I would play the tapes on a Sony that I bought for 60 riyal. When I was alone in my camp dorm, I would record whatever I wanted to tell my family, replay the recording and if it was good enough, I sent it to Nepal with some cash, wrapping it all in layers of cellotape. Every night before going to sleep, I would re-listen to the voices of my family. I kept the player close to my ears at a very low volume as I shared the room with four or five others. Even hearing about mundane everyday things from the village over and over again in the voices of my wife and daughters filled me with joy after work. One day, someone from management said I had a call from Nepal. It was news of my youngest son’s death, and that was a painful moment. He was just 18 months old. In a tape that followed, my family filled in the details: he had died of measles. I responded by recording my own feelings on tape and consoled them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_9e698ea6b9c7d9806444eed194df1227249003ba5b8644557ebdcef549e7263e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024112410118_9e698ea6b9c7d9806444eed194df1227249003ba5b8644557ebdcef549e7263e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Yadav now talks to his son, who is also overseas for work, through video calls on his mobile phone.</figcaption> </figure>  My company offered to send me home on mourning break for a month. What was the point? My son was already gone, so I could not bring him back. Instead, I grieved on my own in Saudi Arabia before I resumed work. The company was kind enough to pay me my basic wages. During my time overseas, I came home thrice. When I left for Saudi Arabia after my third vacation home, I wept as my mother was in poor health and paralysed. I just could not stay away, so three weeks later I returned to Nepal on a one-way ticket. I brought back my barbershop mirror, and it still hangs on my wall. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FDXX3kPW42oc%3Fsi%3DolveYQBO4UYjBKl&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

"The first migrant worker from my village"

I was born in Mumbai where my father worked as a watchman. When I was just four years old, my parents decided that it would be best if my mother went back to our home district of Achham in Nepal to take care of our house and farm. And off she went with my one-year-old brother. In her absence, we lived close to his workplace. He worked shifts, and was not always home when I returned from school. I learnt to cook for both of us at a young age, even though I do not consider myself a good cook.&nbsp; From childhood, I had this innate sense of responsibility and completed my homework or rote-learned for exams even when I was not under parental watch.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_2a8ae15dc440b94aff7a6146e7ce457bb21376cbd206d1ff503e9f83ea2a4334.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241101221140_2a8ae15dc440b94aff7a6146e7ce457bb21376cbd206d1ff503e9f83ea2a4334" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> <figcaption>Bishwokarma was married at 15 to a 13-year-old girl also from Achham who, like him, was also born and raised in Mumbai.</figcaption> </figure>  Growing up around Nepali families in the neighbourhood, I picked up Nepali. Not having a mother figure around, I did not really know what I missed as it had always been that way. My mother and I communicated in letters that were about a paragraph-long without much substance other than basic pleasantries and updates from school. I was more accustomed to my father, with whom I shared a special bond. I married young at 15 to a 13-year old girl who was also born in Mumbai to migrants from Achham. My mother came to my wedding and it was the first time we met after she had left over a decade ago. My mother returned with my wife to Achham where my city grown wife learnt how to do village household chores. Unsurprisingly, she did not like it, but she stayed on for two years. While she was trained by my mother in Achham, I was continuing my school in Mumbai.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_dbb23b8a76397c7cd7b9b640455a6d0b274d7411e91032a34d118a33d1ac0069.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241101221140_dbb23b8a76397c7cd7b9b640455a6d0b274d7411e91032a34d118a33d1ac0069" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> </figure>  After my wedding, I went to Achham for the first time ever. With no mental image of what it would look like, I did not know what to expect. Life in Nepal took some getting used to but with the visits I grew attached to Nepal and I got familiar with Nepali songs and movies via YouTube. My father eventually moved back to Nepal. My mother needed more help around the house to tend the fields. By then, I had settled down in Mumbai with my wife and four children and worked as a watchman, just like my father. My now-jobless father now depended on me. This put more financial pressure on me. I used to enjoy playing cricket growing up. But when household responsibilities start weighing on you from a young age, there is no space in life for hobbies and passions. By the time I was of age to discover and nurture my interests, I was already worrying about raising my children well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_0ccd2cd0e243a5124f13047a2d7caad5df462b2e396745b0381393e385b76301.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241101221140_0ccd2cd0e243a5124f13047a2d7caad5df462b2e396745b0381393e385b76301" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> </figure>  Life in Mumbai is fast-paced. Everyone is running around. My company closed down, and I lost my job. I then bought an autorickshaw, and my daily income varies between INR 700-1,500. I prefer this more than being a watchman, as there is more freedom. It is self-paced, and there is time to rest. There is no boss to order me around. My three sons work as a vegetable vendor, a real estate agent and a cinematographer, and my daughter is a nurse. They also take care of some of the household expenses. What I earn is just for my pocket money and to keep myself occupied. What would I do sitting around idly? If I had a traditional job, I would be retiring in three years after turning 60. But as an autorickshaw driver, there is no end at sight. I will retire when my body demands it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_2f370b6e52af5460cfd7b4a4761a557baef3a3b2158cfdaa5ac3bb0bdcd0065b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241101221140_2f370b6e52af5460cfd7b4a4761a557baef3a3b2158cfdaa5ac3bb0bdcd0065b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> </figure>  I don’t interact much with my customers as I have to keep my eye on the road at all times. Mumbai traffic is bad. Sometimes, customers hail three-wheelers like mine when the cars they have booked online do not arrive on time because of traffic. They have meetings to attend or flights to catch, and they are thankful when I stop to pick them up.&nbsp; Other than that, the interactions are quite limited. Most customers are glued to their phones. Some even bring out their laptops. My job is to ensure they reach their destinations. Three years ago, I received a call from Achham about my father’s heart attack. I was arranging my travel to Nepal, but he passed away that night. I still went to Achham for his last rites, and I cannot describe how difficult it was to make that long journey alone while grieving my father’s loss. As I changed buses and trains across India, all I could think about was my father.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024110203118_3da6e8d233ba52600ae4902d65ba754436340d577e6fce5e3c91f39a507866c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024110203118_3da6e8d233ba52600ae4902d65ba754436340d577e6fce5e3c91f39a507866c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51"> </figure>  We moved my mother to Gujarat where my brother works as a watchman as we did not want to leave her alone in Achham. Our house there is now empty.&nbsp; Just like I was close to my father who raised me, my brother is close to our mother. My brother and I have never spent more than a few days together because we were separated as children. I visit them in Gujarat once in a while. I have lived a simple and perhaps even a boring life. There have been enough hardships, but nothing that I have not been able to sort out on my own. I have not had to depend on others. God has been restrained in the way he sends me problems. We are all entangled in our own झमेला troubles. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. The previous 50 columns can be accessed in this <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uR6pzwfR91KAezRODgDIz2FWI6m2xjPL/view">ebook</a>. Watch video of Harka Lal Bishwokarma <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rusYgB9B3rs">here</a>. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rusYgB9B3rs?si=-E3SnyAv00I3ZUm1" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

“I have lived a simple, boring life”

This is the 48th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Growing up in Lamjung, I had a very humble childhood. I helped my mother with household chores, and in the fields. My father wanted me to follow his path and join the Indian Army, but after two months at the Gorkha Training Centre in Shillong with its huge billboard that said ‘Do or Die’, I was put off and returned to Nepal.&nbsp; I was in awe walking around the streets of &nbsp;Kathmandu. I used to go to Bishal Bazaar just to practice taking the lift. My curiosity about how things worked, and surfing the net helped keep me updated. I tried to run a café while attending college. But Nepalis had not yet developed a taste for brewed coffee, so my café failed. I also could not continue my studies, so like everyone else going abroad, I left for the UAE in 2004 to work. My brother, who worked as a driver in the UAE, got me a job as a rope access worker in charge of cleaning windows on tall buildings. We first practiced in a two storied building in Dubai, and would be drenched in sweat. I got my license but on a job to clean the façade of a skyscraper, my knees shook as I dangled 48-floors above the ground.&nbsp; What I had learnt on the ground did not amount to much hanging on a rope up there on a high rise. It got better with practice, and it helped that my supervisors were Nepalis who got me acclimatised to the height, so I felt safe.&nbsp; I spent over a decade in the UAE but do not remember much from that period. Work-pay-work-pay, it was a cycle. The kindness of strangers has stayed with me. Some residents on the high floors would offer us fruits as we dangled outside their windows. Small gestures, but they are etched in my memory. I have helped set up the fireworks display on Burj Khalifa and cleaned seven-star hotels, but when my company set up a new oil and gas division in 2005, I asked for an internal transfer in the inspection and engineering department. We got trained in non-destructive testing (NDT), which I enjoyed a lot and excelled in. I took courses in visual, ultrasound and magnetic particle inspections, and found a sense of deep fulfilment in learning new things. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/sky-is-the-limit-for-nepali-chef-in-bahrain">Sky is the limit for Nepali chef in Bahrain</a>, Sanjay Lama Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_fc8c6c1b2d8dab2c07f75c56d819ae566fbdcee047cf568a52adb95c2ede032f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023120902120_fc8c6c1b2d8dab2c07f75c56d819ae566fbdcee047cf568a52adb95c2ede032f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1211" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  Work offshore used to be round the clock. I missed the sense of freedom one feels on firm ground, even though all amenities were provided on board. I still remember how the most rewarding feeling was seeing my name on the list in the control room near the helipad with home leave dates when the chopper would come to airlift us out every month.&nbsp; It was the best feeling in the world, but for the first few days we would still feel like the floor was moving. We had got so used to being at sea.&nbsp; The paid monthly leave was unique among migrant workers. I made sure not to waste time, and used to go to India to take more courses to upgrade my skills. I could not continue my formal education because of my personal circumstances, but I had no excuse not to invest in learning new things.&nbsp; I had the desire to achieve something, and the training was part of advancing my career. Taking formal classes honed my theoretical understanding of the work right from the fundamentals.&nbsp; Given the absence of Nepalis in the management in the oil and gas sector, there was a preference for other nationalities in promotions. Despite meeting roadblocks every step of the way, I did overcome them and moved up the ranks.&nbsp; I had a starting salary of AED900, but by the time I left the UAE a decade later, I was earning AED20,000 ($5,500) a month. After ten years in the UAE including one year in Qatar with the same company, it was time for a change.&nbsp; I tried resigning three times, but was offered better benefits so decided to stay on. But after the third time, I had made my mind. My resignation letter said, ‘I am leaving for my personal betterment.’ It was not for financial reasons, I just knew it was time for a change. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind">Nepal on my mind</a>, Ishwar Chaulagain  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_b259140354429fdda3d4aaf327da94a87300a435d89a29762cbef9ec3dc7e0c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023120902120_b259140354429fdda3d4aaf327da94a87300a435d89a29762cbef9ec3dc7e0c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1141" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  I applied for a job in Nigeria in 2012, and was thrilled to be offered $450 per day for a five month contract. My boss then offered me a longer term contract, and I stuck around in Nigeria for three more years. During my last year, I even helped the company start a training wing and worked as a trainer.&nbsp; The oil crisis of 2015 slowed things down. Oil prices fell from $125 to $25 per barrel, and although my employer asked me to stay on with salary, I left. Nepal was calling.&nbsp; I started my own Industrial Rope Access Trade Association (IRATA) certified training company, Asset Integrity Group, in Kathmandu in 2016. We provide training in rope access, spray painting, welding, rigging and non-destructive testing.&nbsp; I had no guidance in my career choices, I just followed my instincts. I try to be a good mentor to Nepalis interested in this field even though what I earn here does not compare to what I was used to overseas.&nbsp; But there is a different kind of joy in the training and even the respect I get from my students. Nepalis in the rope access sector renew their licenses or upgrade to the next level at my centre, and many are working in the Gulf. A handful of Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and Indians have also come to Kathmandu, where I have trained and licensed them as we are an internationally accredited centre and cost less than elsewhere. Our offer to them is that they not only get cheaper training, they also will get to visit our beautiful country.&nbsp; Luckily, I know enough people in the industry worldwide who hire me for short-term gigs like protective coating services in the oil and gas sector. I have worked in Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia where I spend a few months every year. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/money-is-not-everything-but-you-need-money-for-everything">"Money is not everything, but you need money for everything"</a>, Rohit Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_761d1f46b408f2d199a5d0375df8702a5987a948b61df03eacbe2d9a8b18a219.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023120902120_761d1f46b408f2d199a5d0375df8702a5987a948b61df03eacbe2d9a8b18a219" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  My travels allow me to offer similar opportunities to fellow Nepalis. Three Nepalis, for example, joined me in Nigeria. My international colleagues are often surprised to hear that I am from a landlocked country with no oil industry. I myself wonder sometimes how I got here. I tell them: “I learned and earned.” &nbsp; Nepalis in my field know me as Rudra Dai their mentor, who follows their progress even after training. My foreign friends call me Ruddy. Ruddy’s occasional gigs makes Rudra Dai’s work sustainable. In a way, I have the best of both worlds.&nbsp; It is not easy, of course. We have to meet strict IRATA standards to pass audits. At our training center, we simulate different scenarios such as in civil and marine rope access work. We also provide on-the-job training so students can practice what they learn. There are more complex courses like industrial painting. Additional training for painting or welding inspection combined with rope access training could contribute to boosting earnings.&nbsp; Many Nepalis still go overseas to earn just $300 USD monthly. I wish they understood that there are also opportunities that offer much higher salaries if they got training. It cannot be any training; it has to be recognised and valued overseas as well. In rope access, where safety is paramount and licensing requirements are mandatory, just a short training can open up higher salaries, new sectors and upward mobility, as the demand for workers in this field is growing.&nbsp; This model would work best if employers themselves were also involved. But Nepali employers do not prioritise occupational health and safety, and training. They just want cheap labour. Overseas companies also hesitate to invest in training workers especially as they have trouble retaining them, and there are competitors who offer small salary mark-ups.&nbsp; I have come a long way from dangling with shaky knees on a rope off a high rise in Dubai. When I meet young migrant workers on leave in Nepal, I see myself 15 years ago. I used to go to India to get myself trained, now I am glad to say I can offer such training in Nepal itself. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya">From retail to selling chiya</a>, Gautam Guvaju Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Migrant worker teaches others the ropes

This is the 47th instalment of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When I first went overseas in 2005 as a kitchen help to Bahrain, I had just one goal: to save Rs200,000 so I could return to Nepal and start a small business like a cold store. &nbsp; Nearly 20 years later, I am still overseas. The years have just flown by.&nbsp; When I had first started applying to migrate for work, I got rejected in many interviews because of my poor English. I was close to giving up, but instead enrolled myself for language training.&nbsp; And it paid off. I was the last interviewee in a recruitment drive for a Bahrain-based job, but got selected. When I first saw the vacancy in the newspaper, I did not know where Bahrain was. I had heard of Dubai, Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but not Bahrain.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231123101124_37b1ba3da8af8f5e5448d049083827b68366859b0d8165ccfb8e02da4e8d6efd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231123101124_37b1ba3da8af8f5e5448d049083827b68366859b0d8165ccfb8e02da4e8d6efd" data-rendition-name="original" width="525" height="700" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 47"> </figure>  After a few years there, I did manage to save my first two lakhs, but then I wanted the next two. And so it went on. As we work and earn, our dreams grow. And there are no limits to our dreams. You buy land back in Nepal, and after some time overseas, manage to build a one-storied house. You build the first storey, and then think why not add another floor. Once the house is done, it’s time to start thinking about the children’s future. There is no end, really. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan My starting salary in Bahrain was Rs12,000. Now I am a chef earning over 33 times the amount. My specialisation is in French and Italian cuisine at a high end restaurant but with an Arabic twist for the palate of our customers. I manage over 35 kitchen staff from Asia and Africa.&nbsp; At peak hours, the kitchen can get quite chaotic and loud, but I am also at my best under pressure and try to create a fun environment for my team. My base is in Bahrain, but I am currently in Saudi Arabia temporarily setting up a new outlet for the same employer. One of the reasons for my involvement in the Saudi outlet is that many of the new staff are from Nepal so my employer figured it would be easier for me to train and motivate them.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina Before leaving Nepal, I dreamed of joining the army but it got complicated when I used to get questioned in my village, including from my friends who had joined the Maoists. They gave me a hard time.&nbsp; I lied at a canteen that I had prior experience working in restaurants. I kept making mistakes and did not even know how to cut vegetables the right way. I used to say “this is how we used to do it at my old restaurant” and cut carrots without peeling them or putting random spices in noodles. I got away with it. My first mentor in one of the restaurants was a Dubai returnee who trained me. &nbsp; In my years away, I have come home twice intending to stay. My sacrifices and effort working night and day has earned me the trust of my employers so I could tell them that I will go home, try out something and if it does not work out, I will return. And I did return, and they welcomed me back. When you prove yourself at work and build good relationships, doors remain open.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231123101140_ff3a1b3424a4ea61fa941f967ed4b30bca5af18ced066e319252ec62098be33d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231123101140_ff3a1b3424a4ea61fa941f967ed4b30bca5af18ced066e319252ec62098be33d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="diaspora diaries 47"> </figure>  Switching jobs also improves your bargaining power and employment benefits, either by your original employer who will match the new offer or the new employer who will try to attract you with better benefits. I have jumped from Bahrain to Qatar and back to Bahrain over the years, and these added to the benefits. Despite what I have achieved, I know that I have missed out a lot in life by being away. True happiness is at home, where my family is. That will never change, no matter how much time I spend away.&nbsp; I first left Nepal when my wife was pregnant with my eldest daughter. It was a time when photos were exchanged over letters and phone calls were expensive and difficult to arrange. I wasn’t there to hold my wife’s hand during those months. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin I made up for it partially when my son was born eight years later. I could at least go home for the delivery. My daughter will go abroad for her education when she finishes high school next year. By the time I return to Nepal, she will have left to pursue her own dreams. Once she is abroad, I will pass on the baton to her and she will help bring her younger brother to wherever she is. That a family like mine can dream of sending children for overseas education is a testament of our sacrifices. But then you miss all important milestones in life. I could have brought my family to Bahrain but my work schedule is so busy that I would not be able to give them enough time. I have come a long way since my days as a kitchen help. But if someone were to make a movie of my life, it wouldn’t be of my professional journey but rather a story about separation and sacrifices. About not being able to give my family the quality time they deserved.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231123101124_e67381d1bdc348ac5d675eb569b2c802ac9abb0042eb4c8491cb38e7112594bf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231123101124_e67381d1bdc348ac5d675eb569b2c802ac9abb0042eb4c8491cb38e7112594bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 47"> </figure>  Ours is a generation of sacrifices. And we were born at a time and in a country where it feels impossible to balance time with family with earning money. There are festivals that you miss because you are away from home. But there are also times when work keeps you so busy that you even forget that it is Dasain back home. &nbsp; Many Nepalis have done well across the Gulf including in the hospitality sector by proving themselves with their hard work and loyalty despite not having formal education or language skills. &nbsp; Youth these days have it a lot easier, young Nepalis are better educated and have English. But it is your skills, work experience and performance at work that matters most. As an interviewer who is involved in recruitment drives now, I have learnt to look beyond English skills or CVs to identify genuinely hard-working people eager to learn and grow.&nbsp; Many newcomers these days are in a rush for overnight success and promotions and get easily disheartened, but it is a process, a journey. With luck, hard work, and patience success will come.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind">Nepal on my mind</a>, Ishwar Chaulagain I do not think my story is that remarkable. I am a simple Nepali who worked hard and made personal sacrifices, and things fell into place. I was good at grabbing opportunities that came my way. I think that most people who stick to their craft continuously for years will eventually get good at it.&nbsp; Everything might not work out as we plan or hope, but something or other inevitably will. That is my mantra, to give it my all without worrying too much about results. In fact, I try not to worry about anything at all. &nbsp;&nbsp; Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Sky is the limit for Nepali chef in Bahrain

This is the 46th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. During my first job in Qatar as a waiter it was clear that my lack of proper English would make it difficult for me to be promoted to front-office positions.&nbsp; There were Filipino, East European and Indian colleagues across the Gulf who came from much better backgrounds, had more polished English and could present themselves much better. So for my second stint overseas, this time in a luxury hotel in Kuwait, I opted for back-end jobs in food and safety hygiene. I figured my linguistic weakness would not hold me back.&nbsp; I had learnt the English alphabet only in Grade 4 by the flickering light of an oil lamp in my village in Bhojpur. I dropped out of school so my siblings could study. I grew up helping my parents with household chores and farming, school was never a priority. Later, I worked as a lab boy in the biology departments of high schools in Nepal. Like everyone else, I chose foreign employment to improve my family’s living standard, Nepali wages were just not enough.&nbsp; I had the grit, ability to work hard and knowledge of my field, but it would be lack of communication skills that would hold me back in the hospitality sector. Now, many years later, I have reached managerial positions in luxury hotels overseas. As part of a support department for kitchen and service, we are responsible for inventory, cleaning, sanitisation, store organisation and calibration of all equipment and ensure that they meet the highest hygiene standards. I manage 40-45 staff from different countries. But I may not have achieved all this had I insisted on getting front-end jobs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_8eb359ad4cec1b47f26a7b0ba8b0e343b33374e4c3b0e95dbf005592ea69576d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20231104041124_8eb359ad4cec1b47f26a7b0ba8b0e343b33374e4c3b0e95dbf005592ea69576d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1288" height="725" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 4"> </figure>  After working in Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and Seychelles, I am once again headed back to Kuwait to work as a stewarding manager. I will be earning $2,100 (KWD 650) a month with additional benefits. My foreign employment did not start well, it must be said. I left Nepal in 2007, to work in Qatar as a busboy. My salary was just $110 (QAR 400) then. I was cheated by the recruitment agent who made me sign a fake contract, but I could not go back to Nepal. The supply company placed me in the catering section of a gas firm, and even though the salary was below what was promised it gave me a solid foundation in my area of work.&nbsp; Since then, I have worked in luxury hotels in multiple countries, but the hygiene standards in the oil and gas sector in Qatar were superior. For us overseas migrant workers, it is important to manage our time and finances and think about the long term. Such planning requires constant reminders of why we are here, who we have left behind and that working abroad is temporary.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_f7fc4b99bb5a64da56fceb65096cf0d366873e93b45a472aa8751d6f54a6ffa7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231104041124_f7fc4b99bb5a64da56fceb65096cf0d366873e93b45a472aa8751d6f54a6ffa7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 1"> </figure>  It is easy to splurge when there is cash without thinking of the future. Overlooking exercise or proper eating habits can affect our health in the long term. One day, we will have to return, leaving all this behind with no social protection for future security. My friends and I often wonder what we can do once we return to Nepal. One option that fits our background that might also have scope in Nepal’s hospitality sector is to train and supply hotel workers. But that means leaving a well-paying, stable job for an uncertain entrepreneurial journey in Nepal. We have been away so long that it does carry immense risks. It is this uncertainty that keeps us renewing our contracts, or looking for a better job in another country. The new generation of Nepalis who come to the Gulf or elsewhere are not limited as we were. The youth migrating now have it easier, they are better educated and already have degrees in hospitality management. They also have better exposure and language skills, and this is an advantage. But ultimately, it does boil down to job performance. One of my early memories of being overseas is being formally recognised as Colleague of the Year among a staff of 900. This was a turning point in my career that gave me the positivity and energy to work harder and dream bigger. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_46369189939b8bfd7be4f8c0d1913cac6415d06268bb454cbbbf7bbd1a83ee0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231104041124_46369189939b8bfd7be4f8c0d1913cac6415d06268bb454cbbbf7bbd1a83ee0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="979" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 5"> </figure>  The perception overseas that Nepalis lack management and leadership skills that other nationalities have is now being broken. There are Nepalis who are doing very well across the Gulf region. It is important to have Nepalis in leadership positions, not just for our individual growth and finances, but also because it allows us to help other Nepalis to solve problems they encounter, especially as newcomers.&nbsp; There is chain migration that allows us to pull fellow Nepalis overseas from our communities that has been going on for decades, but there is also upward mobility where those of us doing well in leadership positions can open the way for more Nepalis to climb the ladder.&nbsp; Creating that positive perception of Nepalis in upper management positions is a priority. Leveraging networks to help others is an added bonus.&nbsp; One of my proudest moments was seeing immense potential in one of the staff I was managing in my team who was from Bangladesh. I recommended a fellow chef to take him under his wing and vouched for him as his manager. Today, he is a successful chef.&nbsp; I have learnt with time how important it is to be able to defend yourself at work or to be aware of the rules and policies in place. Often we fail to use existing rules that are in our favour because we are just unaware of them and are hesitant to speak up.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_348b63d15b026d1c2a1d1afd0621c1fca06791181a5a1615b8d5e2faa0c87006.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231104041124_348b63d15b026d1c2a1d1afd0621c1fca06791181a5a1615b8d5e2faa0c87006" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 3"> </figure>  Labour laws in the Gulf countries are also changing, and have become more flexible. But how those changes affect us depends on our ability to make use of them. Of course, this also depends on what kind of employer we land. In my job, I have witnessed the extreme luxury and wealth of our guests, and how easy they have it financially. I compare that to Nepalis like me who have to struggle every step of the way.&nbsp; I blame politics which has prevented Nepal from making the best use of our incredible natural and human resources. Yet, when I watch news from Nepal these days, there is little to be optimistic about.&nbsp; I hope that we will soon be allowed to vote in elections from overseas, so we too have a say about who should lead Nepal. We are not in the Gulf region permanently, we send money home every month, and we will eventually return. We should have the right to vote. We spend a good chunk of our lives overseas to toil in difficult circumstances, far away from home. But it is as much about our families we leave behind.&nbsp; They give us the green signal to go abroad to work, while they take care of things at home in our absence. I believe families left behind do not get enough credit for the sacrifice they make. As for me, I owe it to my wife who has been a pillar of strength for me and someone who has supported my professional growth. I keep reminding Nepalis overseas to stay connected with their families back home. It takes a lot of effort to make this journey of separation tolerable. It is easy to get lost in the daily grind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_fc4a2e976ca1d5b10f12f0aea543d696a6ba2c772189a6ddca7b2e87e36ae773.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231104041124_fc4a2e976ca1d5b10f12f0aea543d696a6ba2c772189a6ddca7b2e87e36ae773" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 6"> </figure>  The lack of communication and distance can take a toll on mental health as well. The need to make a better living seems possible only in a foreign land, and that makes physical separation unavoidable. It is up to us to remain connected emotionally and virtually — after all they are just a phone call away.&nbsp; Translated from a conversation. Diaspora Diaries provides a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;

Nepal on my mind

This is the 42nd edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis who have lived or are working abroad. I still remember the blast of hot air that enveloped me when the airport door slid open at Dubai airport that afternoon 20 years ago. I was immediately worried whether it was the right decision to go to the UAE for work. I was there to flip burgers, much to the dismay of my parents who had invested in my education. But my Master's in Geology from India did not amount to much in Nepal. Oil companies in India prioritised locals, so I had to return to Nepal. I still remember entering the premises of the Department of Geology and Mines in Kathmandu with the hopes of getting a job. But the lethargy and broken furniture there put me off, I did not want to work in such a place. I then took on odd jobs, teaching math and science. My father suggested I could be a lecturer in geology, but how could I inspire people to join a field in which I saw no potential for myself? Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya">From retail to selling chiya</a>, Gautam Guvaju They say money is not everything, but you need money for everything. So, after two years, I found myself interviewing for a job at Burger King in the UAE. The country manager had come to Kathmandu himself for the interview. He told me that I could achieve the same success as another Nepali he had employed in the UAE if I worked hard. My educational background and language skills would be an advantage, he said. But he told me to be realistic about my expectations. I would have to be ready to do even menial tasks, like cleaning restrooms. Foreign workers are usually housed in labour camps in the UAE’s industrial areas, segregated from the rest of the population. I was lucky to be put up in a flat in the middle of the city on the 16th floor of a high rise. In the morning after my arrival in Dubai I marvelled at how high we were, and watched the cars below that looked like toys. At Burger King, everything was by the book. There were specifications and instructions for all functions, from how to wash hands to how to thaw condiments. As a science student I was intrigued. It was not easy, especially in the early days. Standing for nine hours a day as a crew member in a fast-paced environment can be stressful, especially if you are not used to working at all. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-bonds-with-racing-camel-in-qatar">Nepali bonds with racing camel in Qatar</a>, Mohan Pandey Once the restaurant opened for business, customer flow was constant. In the beginning, I could barely stand by the end of the day and my hands would be stiff. It felt like every cell in my feet was hurting. Even on my days off, I visited the restaurant to read the Burger King manual like a textbook. I found it fascinating how specific it was about standards covering practically every aspect of the burger making process. Perhaps my science degree came in handy after all, helping me grasp details faster than the average employee. I soon became the go-to guy at work. I got 100% in all internal exams required for the job. Doing well in these exams or getting awards in the company positioned me for quicker promotions, but once you hit managerial posts, certificates and training did not matter as it was all about the outlets' performance and numbers. I once caught a cold as my body wasn’t able to handle the frequent changes between the AC inside and the outside heat. Back in Nepal, this would have been enough to keep me in bed. There, I somehow made it to work and got so busy that by the time I was done with my shift, the cold would be gone. I worked myself and my cold to death. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/amit-and-tilak">Amik and Tilak</a>, Tilak Bahadur Tamang and Amik Singh Lama My hard work paid off. When I was promoted to Assistant Manager in two years, I was described as the fastest-developing crew member to assistant manager in Burger King Middle East history. I still recall reading that email in tears right before my shift started. It helped that there were managers who were genuinely invested in my growth. Duty meals were free for employees, so I ended up eating burgers every day from 2003 to 2009. I once calculated that I must have eaten about 2,028 of them — but the hard work kept me from gaining weight. Burger King gave me more than just a good job. It is where I fell in love with my wife, who was also making a future for herself in the same restaurant. I then jumped ship to Subway where I worked as an Area Manager for two years. This experience was different because Subway did not have the same strict specifications as Burger King, and gave me room to apply what I had learnt there. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230930030916_5827ccc1a858abbfa8fa778b5c340f6db99d48511fb5725f161369025fb624bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230930030916_5827ccc1a858abbfa8fa778b5c340f6db99d48511fb5725f161369025fb624bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="DF42"></figure>  I was then hired by the Swedish chain Max Burger to establish a presence in the UAE. Its operating style relied on common sense rather than strict specifications. It had the same feel as grandmoms who run kitchens using intuition and common sense, which I quite liked. I had experience handling high volumes, including full destination restaurants with drive through, delivery and takeout. I was also a certified restaurant trainer. As someone who had started out with a monthly salary of AED900, I was now making over 12,000. I had the savings and the skills, but like all migrant workers, I was working for someone else and had started questioning myself – till when? Whenever we came to Nepal on breaks and satisfied our momo and chow mein cravings, we would be on the lookout for burgers. But we were never satisfied with the burgers here, which is what gave us the idea of starting a burger place in Nepal. My parents were getting older, and my father's health had started failing. As an only child, I decided to head home. My wife and son returned first, and I followed. I got on the plane to Nepal with no regrets about leaving the place I had worked in for 11 years. I set up Burger Shack in Nepal in 2014. My parents, who had initially questioned why I was going abroad to make burgers, now started expressing concern about why I wanted to sell only burgers and not momos. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230930030916_dd8bea786db86cdc3619171fc4efeaaf007708d3fb0114fc6f723e149e8b41c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230930030916_dd8bea786db86cdc3619171fc4efeaaf007708d3fb0114fc6f723e149e8b41c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="2667" loading="lazy" alt="DF42"></figure>  Despite my experience in three fast food restaurants overseas, running a restaurant in Nepal was a different proposition altogether. Even finding the right kind of buns and patties was a challenge. I had to improvise every step of the way. Fortunately, business is doing well and we now have three branches including one franchise. Customers say we are the closest thing to McDonald’s in Nepal. Had I not gone overseas for work, I would probably still be doing something on my own — perhaps a small grocery shop or a momo restaurant. But the experience in the UAE gave me capital and skills. I am the first person in my risk-averse family to start a business. I learnt in those few years abroad more practical lessons than I did from my formal education. It was important to pick up technical skills, and use them to build a niche for myself in Nepal. Going overseas means access to a platform and new possibilities, but in the final analysis it boils down to what you make of it. Dubai feels like a dream now. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a>

"Money is not everything, but you need money for everything"

This is the 41st instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Even as a kid, I could feel my family's standard of living improve when my father left for Iraq after a failed trucking business in Nepal. It crept up in small ways. Instead of five rupees for lunch money, I now got ten. Or the clothes my mother bought me were of a better quality. Birthday celebrations got bigger. Immediately after Iraq, he hopped on a plane to the UAE to work at an Abu Dhabi-based hospital as a supervisor of security guards. It was a relatively easy job, and he earned well. I am not sure why, but the UAE has fascinated me ever since. I suppose part of it has to do with familiarity, as I watched YouTube videos from a young age to learn more about the country where my father was working. When family members encouraged me to go to Australia or the UK for further studies, I figured the UAE was a better option as I did not want to spend my father's hard earned money to go elsewhere. I was well aware of his struggle and sacrifice, and the UAE felt like a better fit for financial reasons. After my 12th, I headed to the UAE on a family visa that my father arranged. On my second day in Dubai, I passed a walk-in interview for a salesman job at a retail store. I also did my bachelors in business administration over weekends at Jaipur University.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_cd472b68ad1a2f120dd8bc634c049946f5939d80ff2a2993dd34d67109ce72ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230926120936_cd472b68ad1a2f120dd8bc634c049946f5939d80ff2a2993dd34d67109ce72ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="450" height="592" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  I was hired as a salesman at a clothing company, but most of my responsibilities were that of a stock boy. One day I got the chance to showcase my salesmanship to the higher ups at a sales event at the World Trade Centre in Dubai. Impressed, they pushed me to take on more front-desk sales related tasks. I outperformed my peers, but I was not satisfied. My next goal was to become a store manager. I took it upon myself to learn various skills including bookkeeping, merchandising, setting schedules of staff and preparing sales reports. To learn these skills, I arrived at the store before opening and left after closing. Those extra hours did not translate to overtime pay, and I left the store only to sleep. I soon saw the fruits of my labour when my sales numbers landed me opportunities to train new hirees at the company headquarters. The networking allowed me to get a store manager job at our branch at the Ibn Battuta Mall. We Nepalis are indeed a hard-working, honest bunch, and there is a reason why we have built a strong reputation abroad amongst employers. I did not get to meet my father much because he was based in Abu Dhabi and I was in Dubai. His schedule was more flexible, so he would sometimes come to see me and we would go eat at Nepali restaurants. I did not share my struggles in the UAE with my father, I just wanted him to know the happy bits.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120928_e7e65b492d29434a1e997b85c7e8a896ed8402a5215f3ce99040ce1da7c8977a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230926120928_e7e65b492d29434a1e997b85c7e8a896ed8402a5215f3ce99040ce1da7c8977a" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Life in Dubai was not easy. There were 8 of us from five nationalities crammed into a small room. I decided with a Nepali that I got along with to get our own place. It was a tiny 7 by 4.5 feet room that had just enough space for a bunk bed and a tiny fridge. We lived frugally, a large chunk of my earnings went on rent and school fees. Living paycheck by paycheck for me meant starting off the month strong and running dry as it ended. Towards the end of the month, I would have to resort to loans from friends, or I had to stop eating out and innovate to make food last longer by adding water to fried lentils bought in the market for one dirham, or living off white rice and fried sausages, which cost peanuts. After the store manager job, I started dreaming bigger. I was transferred to the head office and had my eyes on the area manager role. But I also had other aspirations that would interrupt my career progression -- I started toying with the idea of returning to Nepal. I was in my mid-20s, and there was pressure to get married and have children. With those added responsibilities, I would not be able to choose a risky career path like entrepreneurship, my calling. I had witnessed what was possible with hard work in Dubai during my 3.5 years there. I figured if I failed in Nepal, I could always return again for a job. It was not easy to convince my family, they wanted me to head to greener pastures like the US or Australia and not return to Nepal. Many returning Nepalis who muster the courage to call it quits and come home usually backed by savings accumulated abroad. Not me. I had no savings, only courage.&nbsp; I had learnt to work hard in Dubai, and had built the confidence to deal with people from diverse backgrounds. Even as I took my Nepal-bound flight, I knew that I would be coming back to Dubai one day, either as a tourist or for a job. I knew this wasn’t the final goodbye to the place that had been home. In Nepal I tried my hand at two different clothing lines, given my retail background. On a trip to India to buy fabric for our clothing business, Jama Store, I remember waiting in line for tea every morning at a tea stall. Chhotu, the young tea seller, drew quite a crowd every morning. Intrigued, my friend Ritu Karmacharya and I spoke with Chhotu who excitedly demonstrated to us how he prepares his tea, and what makes it so special. This struck a chord, and we considered the possibility of starting a tea place in Nepal. We also noticed many classy tea cafes in India as we walked around. Once we returned, we visited places in Nepal and realised that there was scope for this venture in Nepal as well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_e18cd45a48ad0b2fb99250c591d9321f8c6300aadb4ad80cd9933d76d76ba587.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230926120936_e18cd45a48ad0b2fb99250c591d9321f8c6300aadb4ad80cd9933d76d76ba587" data-rendition-name="original" width="936" height="753" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Ritu's sister, a USA returnee, also suggested that there were such elegant tea places in New York with vibrant Moroccan decor and floor seating arrangements, and she encouraged us to pursue something similar. We had no money, so I reached out to my family members in Kuwait and the UAE who agreed to become part investors. We found a vacant place in Kumaripati and renovated it. Chiya Spot was born and we started selling tea. Our special? Chhotu's tea in honor of the boy from Delhi who inspired us. At first, we made do with three or four packets of milk every day to serve our customers. But unbeknownst to us, the famous food vlogger Mr Foodie Nepal featured our café. It blew up on social media and we started getting loads of customers. We could not keep up and had to expand our space to accommodate more customers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_0fa4ec82e0ebed65de088a4519b9d9190169017534abb92cd0d2e5e28fdecf42.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230926120936_0fa4ec82e0ebed65de088a4519b9d9190169017534abb92cd0d2e5e28fdecf42" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_1f0c371596ab95192026266dcbae582bd01e3c6b313632cdaf927b2410d61c52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230926120936_1f0c371596ab95192026266dcbae582bd01e3c6b313632cdaf927b2410d61c52" data-rendition-name="original" width="719" height="898" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Most recently, we have also opened a new branch in Boudha. While the Kumaripati branch is inspired by Moroccan/Jaipuri decor, the cafe in Boudha is inspired by Middle Eastern design, in particular from Dubai. I remember going to Dubai Gold Souk whenever I had a few hours off to relax in the market and grab a bite with a friend at a Nepali restaurant. Now, I have brought a little piece of Old Dubai back home to Nepal at the new café, to be enjoyed with karak chai that is famous there. While the vlogger Foodie Nepal's post helped draw customers to Kumaripati, my sisters’ social media posts on the Boudha branch went accidentally viral on TikTok. We got so many customers that it got unmanageable, and this even translated to angry posts and reviews as people were not happy with the wait. We were expecting our customer base to increase organically over time, not overnight. Such is the power of social media. For both good and bad. We quickly added staff and are learning every day to improve our service. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_1e044c0b6bcaea569c6651e5bf53530abc227f99d55490e5a94940ae032c4d64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230926120936_1e044c0b6bcaea569c6651e5bf53530abc227f99d55490e5a94940ae032c4d64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  I had never, in my wildest imagination, thought I would be leaving retail to sell tea one day. But both branches are doing well, Insallah. We try to create a space for people to relax over tea, conversations, or board games without putting pressure on them to leave or order more items. As long as people are happy, the customer volume or finances will automatically work themselves out, as they have over the past three years. &nbsp;We want to fill the niche left by restaurants that either offer great ambience or reasonable prices, which we don’t believe have to be mutually exclusive. Many migrants spend a large chunk of their remittances to buy land or build houses in Nepal. I returned to Nepal empty-handed. But with my earnings here, I have managed to contribute significantly to my parent's new house, and I could not be prouder. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

From retail to selling chiya

Between the 1980s and 2000s, over 5,000 <a href="https://download.ssrn.com/11/01/06/ssrn_id1736064_code1383023.pdf?response-content-disposition=inline&amp;X-Amz-Security-Token=IQoJb3JpZ2luX2VjEBkaCXVzLWVhc3QtMSJIMEYCIQCiYUc7BuJ7zaDn%2BOTCFOWBgNKqYarnapqY%2FWZbamFVsgIhAOC%2FPFXHR9Dx6xTicWMj5%2BJXdIEGZ7LxKRyjrCe61Ng9KsYFCPL%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2FwEQBBoMMzA4NDc1MzAxMjU3IgzWD1Y1XNz2kaOS3jEqmgX0TbxyBTTrZrpd%2B5N72pFzJAwc%2BxTF8Dc0GnVG2tUGUYyxBt1YmfEqAw5cdOuRCZV23SSKkJwndg9IwI3yrjZGBp9XKxg4lK4Vq0Qy9RMmma5hNCVnA2T0MwGghlnmkgWPZA5ouZPiKFAecf4PE5qml2fu1wj72LEAig5R77cN6nC6%2BxTcygMiuiHrR9yZB4RyvTD9s58avGqUcn9hcIUdku3ydvAGVEgczzgEMCesRMtSgqzHz3E9bju9QLR5RpcDRp0wptfQ89uGXgyBGLCX%2BAl6uareSxQCSaDOthP4PmswWI7y7kBJbQp1pZq8r56Yoa3Qf5WVtmxbsWmDtbOsaSBa0yB6EIS8RKFGeQ%2Bcz%2BnEsOoPHIS%2BqO1k1%2BQuihjN0T66SnWFo8rl8Cv2g4GghY9p9DR3wopBJ6cE%2FtDJMY%2BZ03LkUwS%2Fc7ckyaRpfPX5g6Bb9J56a%2BNA5lnIV5o%2Fpjp%2BZJaVIvEzciyzzTwP58wznmcy3xppvK%2BwXBzBR96cPMXKTdNv9%2FqJ5jlnsgSRJpHWE3UyHbFucwQYXi19i7mCglFSuSkkL5Tg9nQWvXpuP9Z9VmMlQfQ%2F%2FpsfA6KlL81K3UK%2Bp%2FJB2mxQD9SYexZvAf1g21NUSF%2F8I19orsNrT6LutAnoJU%2FOTgO3qMbdgnR%2FuBytI3POnQAEIfbG0Za%2FrEDJ9j8CEbasNXsBMqkx8JKGRG2PUHMRC2xl5Z%2BNIbpsqGB8t%2BvAt40osDpgZStiyeiGdC1nMakUzZtBjWlttzoirCdemwPKJ8M%2BEohj2%2BLEN92yaOKdFewns0gjh%2BUxcotGvBo%2F7QZFappBNjLlR0PyanjcuB4MndEQjeIrd67ntscTKiLDI%2FfzwCHulsl6nbMpewpWFAYwg67guwY6sAGb3VJ2q%2F36hWhrVa8igP2hswnnLlcIU2uhOZa5ge2hCXkUYhL1BcSJfoWy2LwrWCXtdFo%2BT7KMU3p6O3jySdxSop8F4iO%2BJBiXVjSiXm%2FqZo3ri8sVwUgo4ksJI%2BT4AbfK3D3VGYapBgU5LdX%2FjkNwSVoR1vz4vMIyF56i7MKeYG1nFLgc0l9cIjrQI6eY869uIbgZ1XKqqBsuavCbYjSbSy7dMP0QSym%2FgmoWILGE0Q%3D%3D&amp;X-Amz-Algorithm=AWS4-HMAC-SHA256&amp;X-Amz-Date=20250103T172339Z&amp;X-Amz-SignedHeaders=host&amp;X-Amz-Expires=300&amp;X-Amz-Credential=ASIAUPUUPRWE65YAH56X%2F20250103%2Fus-east-1%2Fs3%2Faws4_request&amp;X-Amz-Signature=9b654b526e0779da4fa9f54e2fcde04ac9f7e91fb50d4f8094b1039ebb19e21b&amp;abstractId=1736064">Nepali children were adopted abroad</a>, primarily to the United States, France, and Spain. While international adoption was intended to provide vulnerable children with better opportunities, child trafficking and irregular practices prompted Nepal to suspend adoptions in 2007, and overhaul its policies. By 2010, stricter regulations aligned with the <a href="https://www.hcch.net/en/instruments/conventions/specialised-sections/intercountry-adoption">Hague Adoption Convention</a> drastically reduced adoption numbers. Today, many of these children, now adults, are returning to Nepal in search of their roots, only to encounter a society that no longer recognises them, legally or socially. Behind the statistics lie the <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01GRNPPXAC1Z3AETV9HARNCG5Q">deeply personal and emotional journey</a> of adoptees returning to reconnect with their past, seek family, and rediscover a sense of belonging. These stories reflect a broader struggle for identity and the complexities of bridging two worlds. Maya Adopted at 9 by a family in Barcelona, Maya carried fragmented memories of her early life in Nepal including the painful recollection of the day her mother and sister vanished, leaving her and her younger siblings behind. She had faint images of her mother, elder sister, and the village where she once lived. In June 2017, Maya came to Nepal accompanied by Chandra Kala and two friends, Jay and Vikram. With only a few photographs of her mother Tulsi, her elder sister Pargati, and her brother-in-law Kamal, along with a street name, Maya arrived in Birendranagar after a 20-hour bus ride from Kathmandu. “Now that we’re close, I feel like I can’t face them,” she confessed to Chandra Kala, wrestling with anxiety about what she might uncover. “I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll recognise them or if they’ll recognise me. I don’t know how they’ll react or what they’ll say. And then there’s him [Kamal]. I have such bad memories of him. I don’t know if I can handle this.” Chandra Kala reassured her, reminding her of her courage and the importance of this moment. Maya and her companions asked around the town with little success until a shopkeeper recognised Kamal and directed them to a nearby village. Jay went to confirm and returned excitedly, shouting, “It’s her! It’s your sister!” Maya froze, paralysed by fear and anticipation but she pushed ahead. At the village, Maya’s sister Pargati initially struggled to recognise her. Jay introduced Maya: “Do you recognise her? This is your younger sister. She’s come all the way from Spain to find you.” Slowly, realisation dawned, and the two women embraced, bridging the decades of separation with tears and disbelief. The next day, Maya met her mother Tulsi in an emotionally overwhelming reunion. Tulsi rushed into the room and embraced Maya tightly, sobbing uncontrollably: “Mero chhora-chhori, gaye, gaye… my children they went, they went …” Once the tears subsided, Tulsi and Pargati began recounting the heartbreaking circumstances of their separation. After the death of her husband, Tulsi faced relentless judgment in their village when Kamal stayed with the family before his marriage to Pargati. The villagers accused Tulsi of impropriety, calling her पापी (sinful) and demanded that the family leave. “We didn’t want to leave, but the village didn’t want us here,” explained Pargati. “We left intending to bring you and your siblings later. But when we returned, you were gone.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>An adoptee and companion return to Bal Mandir in Kathmandu after 19 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  Tulsi recalled how she had entrusted Maya and her siblings to relatives, hoping they would be cared for temporarily. However, when she returned, the children had been sent away without her knowledge. “I only trusted them because I had no other choice,” Tulsi said through tears. “I didn’t know they would send my children away. What kind of mother does that make me? They called me a bad mother, but what else could I have done?” The reunion brought healing and answers but it also exposed the societal pressures that had fractured Maya’s family. Despite the challenges, Maya spent the rest of her visit bonding with her sister, nieces, and younger half-sister, Sunita, slowly bridging the gaps created by time and distance. Maya’s journey was a testament to the courage required to confront the past, the pain of uncovering difficult truths, and the hope of rebuilding connections once lost. Her story highlights the enduring emotional complexity faced by adoptees navigating their history and identity. Ashmita Unlike some adoptees whose main focus is reuniting with their biological family, 26-year-old Ashmita’s priority has been to uncover the institutional details surrounding her adoption. She wanted to understand what the orphanage and the government knew about her background and why so much information seemed concealed. “I just want to know where I come from,” she said. “Even if I never find my biological family, having a better sense of the places and people connected to my story would mean so much.” For many adoptees, returning to Nepal is not just about reconnecting emotionally, it is about seeking formal recognition as members of the Nepali community. However, the legal framework in Nepal often fails to acknowledge their unique status.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>A mother reunites with her don after 18 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  In Nepali law, adoptees are left in limbo: their birth parents are not considered legal parents, and their ties to the country are effectively erased upon adoption. This lack of recognition creates significant hurdles, particularly in two key areas: accessing pre-adoption records and obtaining Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) status. Despite international norms like the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which guarantees the right to know one’s origins, institutions often refuse to cooperate. Orphanages and non-profits in Nepal, which hold critical pre-adoption records such as birth certificates and citizenship documents, frequently withhold this information, reflecting the systemic reluctance to provide transparency. In numerous cases, records that should include family names, addresses, or relinquishment agreements were either incomplete or falsified. These practices not only prevent adoptees from reclaiming their histories but also perpetuate their disconnection from their heritage. Ashmita’s initial requests for information from her adoption agency were met with delays and incomplete responses. When she turned to the orphanage where she spent her early years, she encountered even greater resistance. At one point, the director of the orphanage issued veiled threats. Nevertheless, Ashmita persisted and managed to find the name of the individual who had brought her to the orphanage. However, the person had disappeared, leaving yet another gap in her story. A breakthrough came when Ashmita accessed a police report that suggested she might have been born in a different municipality than the one in her adoption records, prompting her to seek help from local authorities. The police took an interest in her case and began investigating possible connections to her birth family. While progress was slow, they meticulously followed leads to help her trace her origins. “It’s not easy,” Ashmita said of the process. “But every small step feels like I’m piecing something back together.” She also noted that societal perceptions could add to the difficulty. At times, she felt questioned about her identity and her right to seek answers. “People have asked me why I care so much or even suggested that I’m not Nepali anymore because I was adopted abroad,” she reflected. Ashmita’s story is a complex account of persistence in the face of institutional and personal challenges. While her search has not yet provided all the answers she seeks, it continues to offer her insights into her early life and the systems that shaped her adoption journey. &nbsp;“These records are sealed for a reason. They are not meant to be reopened,” said a government official. Even an NGO representative said: “It’s better for everyone if the past remains in the past.” An orphanage director asked: “Why are you asking these questions? This is not your place anymore.” Hari Prasad Sacré The Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) card is a lifeline for Nepali diaspora members, granting them residency and property rights in Nepal. Yet, adoptees are notably excluded from this framework. While the law stipulates eligibility for individuals whose parents or grandparents were Nepali citizens, it makes no provision for adoptees whose legal ties to their Nepali parents were severed by adoption. When Hari Prasad Sacré, a Nepali adoptee, sought to obtain an NRN card at the Nepal Embassy in Belgium, he encountered officials unfamiliar with processing an NRN request from an adoptee. His case was the first of its kind, setting a precedent but also highlighting the systemic barriers adoptees face. "You are not eligible; your surname is Sacré, it is not a Nepali name," an embassy staff said.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5" data-rendition-name="original" width="446" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>Hari Prasad Sacré receives tika from his father Khul Prasad Adhikari during Dasain, a few weeks after receiving his NRN card. Photo: HARI PRASAD SACRÉ</figcaption> </figure>  Sacré’s situation was legally ambiguous. Although his biological parents, including his father, Khul Prasad Adhikari, are alive and he maintains contact with them, he no longer had “legal” ties to Nepal due to the adoption process. Carrying a Belgian surname the embassy staff was initially convinced the adoptee couldn’t claim Nepali origin. Nepali law, which does not recognise biological parents as legal guardians once a child is adopted, created complications for the NRN application. To navigate this complexity, Sacré relied on a testimony from his father. Issued by a local government body in Kaski, the testimony affirmed that Hari had been put up for adoption and was of Nepali origin. While this enabled the embassy to approve his NRN card, the process was unnecessarily protracted and emotionally charged, highlighting the inadequacy of current policies to accommodate the unique situations of adoptees. Sacré’s case represents a rare instance where biological parents were alive and willing to provide testimony, but many adoptees are not as fortunate. A large number of adoptees were declared “orphans” during the adoption process, even when their parents were alive. This severed their legal ties to Nepal, stripping them of documentation that could later prove their origin. For others, the absence of living biological relatives or access to their original adoption records creates insurmountable barriers. Without clear documentation or a family member to vouch for their Nepali heritage, adoptees are excluded from the NRN framework. This denies them the rights and privileges afforded by the card, including property rights, legal recognition, and a formal connection to their homeland. Current laws fail to account for the complexities of adoptees’ legal status, leaving them disconnected from their cultural and legal heritage. Adoption papers, as evidence of Nepali descent, should be accepted as proof, granting adoptees rightful access to the NRN card and ensuring their inclusion in Nepal’s diaspora. Such reforms are crucial to ensure that all adoptees, regardless of their circumstances, can reclaim their heritage and establish a sense of belonging in Nepali society. Without these changes, the systemic exclusion of adoptees will persist, perpetuating inequities and denying them the opportunity to step up as active members of the Nepali diaspora. Sacré’s case serves as both a precedent and a call to action. It exemplifies the challenges and triumphs of adoptees navigating complex bureaucracies and advocates for a more inclusive and equitable approach to reconnecting adoptees with their homeland. Nepal can draw inspiration from South Korea, where the government has actively supported the reintegration of adoptees into their society. The F4 visa, established through efforts by organisations like the Global Overseas Adoptees’ Link (GOA'L), grants adoptees the right to live and work in Korea, while dual citizenship acknowledges their dual identity as members of the diaspora and their country of origin. GOA’L further fosters reconnection by offering language classes and cultural exchange programs, creating opportunities for meaningful reintegration and belonging. As Nepal refines its NRN citizenship framework, explicitly including adoptees could address the severance of legal and cultural ties caused by international adoption. Such inclusion would provide adoptees a pathway to residency, citizenship, and rights, enabling them to reconnect with their heritage. Complementing this with programs for language acquisition, cultural immersion, and historical education would honour Nepal’s responsibility to the approximately 5,000 children sent abroad. Nepal could establish a dedicated organisation similar to South Korea’s GOA’L and help adoptees access pre-adoption records, navigate legal processes, and engage in cultural exchange initiatives. It would also serve as a bridge between adoptees and Nepali society, fostering mutual understanding and collaboration. This article is based on doctoral studies by <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01H4Z85GPS63ZWDJ3WB2E6KS70">Hari Prasad Sacré</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10357823.2022.2142932">Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez</a>. Hari Prasad Sacré, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at Ghent University in Belgium, specialising in cultural translation, multilingualism, and identity in education. His PhD, Reading Illiteracy, explored fractured multilingualism and illiteracy in displaced identities such as adoptees, with work published in leading journals like Critical Arts and the European Journal for Cultural Studies. Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at the AFIN Research Group, Autonomous University of Barcelona, with a PhD in Social Anthropology. Her research focuses on family strategies, reproductive decisions, and adoption, with extensive fieldwork in Spain and Nepal examining adoptee reunions and related governance and rights.

Searching for a homeland away from home

Villages along the proposed alignment of Nepal’s ambitious <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/putting-nepal-on-the-right-track">east-west train project</a> are excited about the connectivity and development it will bring. But here in Hariban village there is only apprehension. While elsewhere, there are environmental concerns about the train track slicing through national parks and protected forests, here along the densely populated Tarai plains there is worry about losing farmlands. “This project will cost me a big chunk of my land,” says Dinesh Mahato, who farms a small plot in the Ghurkauli village near the East-West Highway. “Why should I agree to give it all away when I will only be compensated partially?” Hari Narayan Mahato echoes his brother’s anger. “The map shows that I have to give up nearly 700 sq m of land, but I know the area is going to be three times bigger once construction begins,” he says. “It’s just not worth it.” There is also opposition in the Dhanpati locality, and 10 households from these two villages have refused to accept the government’s compensation rate for land which they say is much less than market value.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050152_41071574c82ba8f9698b8b7fdecb3ebf280dd314b1175262d961f76dc6d6ad5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250105050152_41071574c82ba8f9698b8b7fdecb3ebf280dd314b1175262d961f76dc6d6ad5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1292" height="821" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  The East-West Electric Railway project will ultimately be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-journey-to-electric-public-transport">Nepal’s transportation </a>artery stretching from the eastern border with India in Jhapa to Kanchanpur, connecting 24 districts. It will intersect with the proposed Birganj-Kathmandu railway at a junction in Sarlahi district. When completed, Nepal’s 950km long ‘gateway to prosperity’ as it has been dubbed, will have 123 stations, 10 tunnels, 334 bridges, a dam, and a 132kV transmission line to supply electricity to the locomotives. The project will require the acquisition of about 4,520 hectares of land, including 518 plots belonging to 4,000 households. Some of this will be along corridors through Chitwan, Bardia, Banke and Sukla Phanta <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/does-nepal-need-the-army-to-guard-parks">National Parks</a> and other nature reserves. Controversy about land acquisition and compensation as well as environmental impact have stalled the project since 2010. “The biggest issue has been compensation for land,” admits Kamal Kumar Shah of the Department of Railways. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/india-china-rail-race">India-China rail race</a>, Shristi Karki This means less than half of the work along the 70km Bardibas-Nijgad segment has been completed and 16 bridges built, and this is the first section of the railway where construction started 15 years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_9e1de8c104dcbd239a70d4a3abda71579f86502c8b9f4cdd7e184aeef90eb638.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250105050148_9e1de8c104dcbd239a70d4a3abda71579f86502c8b9f4cdd7e184aeef90eb638" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Says Senior Division Engineer Kiran Karki: “It is difficult to work here, people have built houses in public land, knowing that the railway is coming. How do we ask them to leave?” Part of the delay is also due to lack of budget, and this has increased the initial estimate of the total cost because of the increase in land value. The government has nationalised over 190 hectares for the Kakadbhitta-Inaruwa section of the railway in the eastern Tarai for which it will have to distribute Rs24.41 billion in compensation. But the budget allocated for that is only Rs1.5 billion. This means farmers have lost their land, but have not yet been compensated. The East-West Railway line was initially estimated to cost around Rs1 billion per km, but this has increased to Rs1.5 billion per km. Just the first Bardibas-Nijgad section will need an additional Rs50 billion to complete. The estimate for the entire project was estimated at Rs955 billion, but a revised budget has already surpassed Rs1.5 trillion. A major bridge across the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/kosi-now-kathmandu-next">Kosi</a> north of the barrage on the Indian border is expected to cost more than Rs410 billion. The &nbsp;Detailed Project Report (DPR) has been revised to build an elevated line over towns in the Butwal section, for example, to avoid paying exorbitant compensation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-railways-janakpur-test-drive">Nepal Railways Janakpur test drive</a> “This project works on multi-year contracts, which have been difficult to award due to a lack of budget,” says Shah. “So the date of completion of the project depends on money being forthcoming.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_addd8a08b727efb1bf1f71752dce1a28d6ea2e9d5f76dafe5dbc9a53a223c5e0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250105050148_addd8a08b727efb1bf1f71752dce1a28d6ea2e9d5f76dafe5dbc9a53a223c5e0" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Meanwhile, activists have raised concern over the project’s environmental cost. The Railway Department has prepared DPRs for four sections of the railway, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/from-nowhere-to-nowhere">Environmental Impact Assessments (EIA)</a> have not been carried out. In Chitwan, the proposed route was realigned to avoid Chitwan National Park following a Supreme Court stay order. However, Chitwan residents have now formed a Railway Victims’ Struggle Committee, saying that the new route would cut through their densely populated communities. “We only found that our land would be part of the railway line when the people from the Railway Department came here last year,” says Hari Thapaliya of Bharatpur Municipality. “The decision to reroute the track was made overnight without any consultation with us.” Angered locals had set fire to a Railway Department vehicle when a survey team reached Krishnapur in July. Bharatpur Deputy Mayor Chitrasen Adhikari says the Railway Department did not even coordinate with the municipality about the new route. “We have proposed an alternate route to the Department,” she adds. “This project affects the livelihoods of people across <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/fogbound-tarai">the Tarai</a>, their concerns must be heard, and they must be included in the decision-making process,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_682ed3ef3e398592f098d1ac638faa4d3b7517515e0f1b2014cb9c4383e6d9c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250105050148_682ed3ef3e398592f098d1ac638faa4d3b7517515e0f1b2014cb9c4383e6d9c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  The problem is that 53% of Nepal’s total population now lives along the narrow strip of plains along the Indian border through which the railway line will pass. The Railway Department is squeezed between the need to balance environmental concerns with high compensation demands of locals. Conservationists have maintained that the railway alignment will go through ecologically sensitive areas, disturbing and fragmenting the habitat of endangered species, blocking their migration routes and disrupting water and food sources. All of this could in turn increase <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">human-wildlife conflict</a>. Experts have suggested measures to invest in ‘ecological offsetting’ programs that help in the creation of new protected areas, restoration projects, and wildlife underpass and overpass corridors. There is also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-pre-monsoon-forest-fires-in-nepal">concern about the forests </a>that have to be sacrificed. Already, 13,500 trees have been cut down in the Bardibas-Nijgad section alone. The Sagarnath Forest, which stretches from Sarlahi to Mahottari, and areas under the Rautahat Division Forest also lie along the proposed alignment. Surya Raj Acharya blames inadequate monitoring and evaluation during the preparation of the DPR because government agencies lack sufficient technical capacity and experience in the railway sector.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_7823653d3f037122441c11f6485c5407acc716811bedf464255aefe3a76d97f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250105050148_7823653d3f037122441c11f6485c5407acc716811bedf464255aefe3a76d97f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  He adds, “Transparent financial planning and management are necessary to ensure the project’s sustainability and economic viability. But the contracts have been hurriedly awarded without proper land acquisition. An urgent review is necessary.” All this needs stronger political will and coordination between various agencies which is sorely lacking not just in the east-west railway project, but in other infrastructure schemes as well. When built, the nearly 1,000 km long railway will streamline cargo and passenger traffic, making it cheaper and more convenient for ordinary people. Railway junctions can also facilitate the north-south transshipment of goods and passenger traffic when coordinated with public transport. Transport costs for exports and imports from India will also be slashed. “A high-speed train running at 200 to 250km per hour will mean that trains will get from Kathmandu to Dhangadi faster than planes, and at much cheaper fares,” notes Acharya. Trains will also reduce carbon emissions by up to 30% compared to trucks and buses. Train lines will be the backbone of Nepal’s transportation system, boosting tourism in the Kathmandu, Chitwan and Lumbini triangle.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_ee137f417c5712be9d2d16f295ba7e30fc207e878214103e387346dfed3a9815.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250105050148_ee137f417c5712be9d2d16f295ba7e30fc207e878214103e387346dfed3a9815" data-rendition-name="original" width="577" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Ultimately, the Kerung-Kathmandu trans-Himalayan railway will connect with the Birganj-Kathmandu line and in future be a future non-maritime corridor for India-China trade. Nepal has been trying to get the East-West railway project funded through foreign investment, but so far there has not been much interest. There also needs to be a better viability study for future railway links, otherwise Nepal may be straddled with loans it cannot repay. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-and-china-to-study-trans-himalayan-railway">Nepal and China to study trans-Himalayan railway</a>, Ramesh Bhushal “The border region along the Tarai remains behind in terms of education, health, and the economy,” says economist Bishwo Poudel. “A railway line alone will not do much to improve their quality of life, there have to be other interventions.” Poudel adds that a north-south railway through Kathmandu to connect India and China through Nepal makes much more economic sense. China has been studying the Kerung-Kathmandu track with tunnels under <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cleaning-up-high-places">Langtang National Park</a>, which would have technological and financial challenges. India is also working on a railway alignment to connect Kathmandu to its border town of Raxaul. At present the only operational passenger railway in Nepal is the 35km cross-border Jaynagar–Janakpur–Bardibas line. The former Department of Railways Director General Rohit Kumar Bisural is a road engineer, and says: “Very few people in Nepal have experience in railways.”

Nepal train project struggles to stay on track

A young non-resident Newa person in Dallas emails a New York Times article to his grandfather in Nepal who cannot read English.
Grandad copies the English text, pastes it into Google Translate to read it in Newari.
This translation feature, available to the world’s major languages, can now also be used by the indigenous people of Kathmandu Valley to translate their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/decoding-diversity?fbclid=IwAR3P0GygTCQ7HE-LaaVOhmKSyUDLlIrR2l9VzXKwCFJ8Em7YFHSAOiiXqQE">mother tongue</a> into English and vice versa.
This involved three-and-a-half years of effort and will impact everyday life in the study and preservation of Newa culture. It also shows a path forward to Nepal’s 123 other languages and dialects.
The World Newah Organisation (WNO) in 2011 invited Newa people from around the world to a convention in London. Software engineer and historian Sanyukta Shrestha was involved, and now leads WNO.
The top priority for discussion was how to conserve the language which was classified as ‘definitely endangered’ by UNESCO, with only 850,000 speakers left.
“The Newa people are diverse: there are different sects, religions. The language and the calendar are what is common,” explains Shrestha. “The strategy was to unite the community behind an existing technology.”
Ujjwal Rajbhandari, an engineer at Google who does not even speak the language, got involved. “I thought why not take advantage of a great tool that already exists,” Rajbhandari, who is co-founder at Qubrid AI in Austin, Texas, told us on the phone.
Work started December 2020, but the prognosis was bleak. Engineers said that the project may take up to 10 years. Translate runs on a ‘transformer’, a machine learning neural network designed to take sequences as input, uses math to understand the context, and outputs a probable output. It uses an ‘attention’ mechanism, which looks at the input text and tries to work out the relationships of each word to each other word.
The more data you feed this statistical monster, the better it gets. But that was the first problem. There was a dire lack of digital material, either in Newari, bilingual Newari-Nepali or Newari-English dictionaries.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/languages-are-both-software-and-hardware">Languages are both software and hardware</a>
“Tens of thousands of digital pages of content were needed, so in 2021 we met with the editors of Newa magazines and asked to scan and digitise their material,” Shrestha recalls. “We hunted down writers, publishers, songwriters, invitation cards - anything that was written in Nepalbhasa.” &nbsp;
Google gave WNO a sheet of 1,200 sentences from random contexts, to be translated. WNO formed a committee to complete this task, and by April 2021, Translate could at least identify the language.
Nepalbhasa can be written in 13 different scripts, the two most popular are the Ranjana and Devanagari. The team chose the latter because there is a lot more material in Nepalbhasa in Devanagari, and many more people who can type in it. “Devanagari is what has allowed any of this work at all,” points out Shrestha. “Translation was the much harder problem to solve, converting output to another face is much easier.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation">Lost in translation</a>, Alisha Sijapati
Now the model needed a large volume of input from the community. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">Every AI model</a> is dependent on the volume of data, even that which is introduced later. User corrections are fed back, which makes the model more robust,” says Rajbhandari.
This happened to be at peak pandemic-time. People knew how to video-chat and had time on their hands. WNO members met for one or two hours in the evening, on a Zoom call that they also broadcast on Facebook. People worked together translating. Which was very effective, because they could get instant input or feedback from others on the call. “It was cool to see was how this brought together elders who knew the language deeply, and the youngsters who have the tech skills,” says Rajbhandari.
By February 2024 there were 500,000 contributions, and Google deemed that this volume of data was sufficient for the model to ‘level up’. Translate added Nepalbhasa to its list of supported languages in June last year. The language had now been intergrated into a tool that can be used for free from anywhere with an internet connection. Accuracy was unusally high, over 90%.
It opens up a whole different world on the internet, for those who only know Nepalbhasa, since any website integrated with Google can be used automatically and instantly converted to that language.
The translations are already being used in East Europe to translate legal documents, Newa songwriters, like Ujan Shakya, use it to convert English lyrics. And when Rajbhandari speaks to WNO over video, his English is instantly translated into Newari subtitles.
“Older people are happy that language will now not die. Younger ones can use it to self-learn the language, now they can’t blame elders for not teaching them,” says Shrestha.
Yet another use is the integration with large language models, like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/chatgpt-news-about-nepal">ChatGPT</a>. LLMs encounter Nepalbhasa in their training data, so they can already generate rudimentary responses.
Says Shrestha, “You can ask questions about a Newa book in English, and the LLM &nbsp;gives you a coherent answer and even cite the page number.” This makes the use of Newa books for research possible and a lot faster.
Leading this mammoth task led Shrestha to a better appreciation for his mother tongue. “I saw the richness of Newari. There are onomatopoeia and proverbs that only elders use, and it is these and the dialects that need to be saved,” he says.
The next step is a text-to-speech, speech-to-text interface, which would open up its use by those who speak and understand Nepalbhasa but may not read, write or type it. Tourists to Nepal would also benefit.
Rajbhandari wants to work on similar projects for other endangered languages of Nepal, and the team has shown that it does not need government to do such work.
Says Rajbhandari: “We have learned many things that would make integration of future languages more efficient so we can solve problems in other projects.”

Nepal Bhasa on Google Translate

When a dozen tiger range countries met in St. Petersburg for a summit in 2010, they committed to doubling the population of their big cats in 12 years. Nepal became the first country to not just achieve the target but nearly triple the figure, from 121 in 2010, to 355 in 2022. But some people in Nepal, including Prime Minister KP Oli, now think Nepal has been too successful and the number of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-counting-its-tigers">wild tigers</a> should be reduced. This was the same prime minister who last year had urged people to help in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-tigers-now-number-235-1iulcaq1">conservation of tigers</a>, calling it “the pride of Nepal”. But last month, in his own pithy language, Oli said <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-tiger-conservation-too-successful">tigers had become as numerous</a> as dogs, and they could not be allowed to breed at the cost of human lives. “The tiger population should be proportionate to our forest area, why not gift the extra tigers to other countries as economic diplomacy?” Oli added at a debriefing on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/bad-cop">COP29</a> last month. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">Human-wildlife conflict</a> has indeed claimed lives, since tigers are venturing outside crowded parks to find prey. So, the prime minister’s proposal to promote wildlife diplomacy may not be such a bad idea since it would raise Nepal’s international profile and highlight <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/is-wildlife-conservation-a-victim-of-its-own-success-in-nepal">the country’s conservation success story</a>. “Tigers can be sent to other countries through diplomacy, but the receiving countries must have the right capacity and environment,” says Ghana Gurung of World Wildlife Fund (WWF Nepal), adding that tigers to be sent must also be chosen carefully. “The Prime Minister gave an emotionally charged statement, which probably came after he spoke to affected groups,” Gurung added. “We tripled the tiger population, but if proper steps for management and cooperation are not taken, we can lose them all as easily.” However, member countries of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) would have to follow strict protocols and paperwork to transport the tigers. Previously, Nepal has sent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos">rhinos</a> to China in two batches through the completion of complicated procedures. Naturalist Sushila Mahatara at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bardia-s-birds">Bardia National Park</a> does not agree that Nepal has too many tigers. She tells us: “Tiger numbers are not excessive according to the areas allocated for them. If there are too many tigers, they fight and kill each other to keep their numbers in control.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025011008010_8cf30b15459a919f1d72d06ca02b3515255460c025a62222a219218787c08bc6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025011008010_8cf30b15459a919f1d72d06ca02b3515255460c025a62222a219218787c08bc6" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="481" loading="lazy" alt="No. of tigers"> <figcaption>Photo: WWF</figcaption> </figure>  Bardia National Park has 125 adult tigers, and Chitwan National Park has 128. There were about 12 fatalities from tiger attacks in the past year, and some of the maneaters are darted and caged. However, many of them soon die in the confined space. Dhan Bahadur Tamang, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/unsung-heroes-of-nepal-s-tiger-recovery">tiger conservationist </a>with over 50 years of experience explains exactly why tigers venture out when they do: “Those that enter human settlements are usually young tigers which have been separated from their mothers. Some are injured tigers who cannot attack traditional prey.” The other reasons include encroachment as a result of human settlement and infrastructure projects in close proximity or within the protected areas with no wildlife-friendly components such as overpasses. The water shortage made worse by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-who-stay">the climate crisis</a> has added to the challenge. Although an average of 3,000 people in Nepal are killed every year by venomous snakes, tiger kills get far more media attention. This has led to tigers being seen as a threat rather than an important apex species in an ecosystem. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/the-snake-bite-emergency">The snake bite emergency</a>, Chandra Kishore The other threat to tigers is from commercialisation. Last year, then Minister for Forests and Environment Birendra Mahato of Janata Samajwadi Party (JSP) &nbsp;proposed auctioning tigers to trophy hunters because Nepal had “too many tigers”. He calculated that the country could earn $25 million through tiger hunting licenses which would underwrite the cost of maintaining national parks. His statement created widespread outrage as well as mockery from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/conservation-vs-conservatives">conservationists</a> and environmentalists, just as Prime Minister Oli’s statement last month did. Tigers are also a major source of revenue for national parks, and a highlight for tourists. “The tigers being in the jungle means that there is the presence of a balanced environment,” says Mahatara at Bardia. “Any <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">loss of biodiversity</a> in the parks could lead to a decline in the influx of tourists.” Eco-tourism and tiger safaris are a big source of income also for homestays and the local communities in Chitwan and Bardia. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/saving-tigers-to-save-the-economy">Saving tigers to save the economy</a> Says <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/conversation-with-mr-conservation">Ghana Gurung</a> at WWF: “Tourists visit national parks in anticipation of viewing tigers. At present the number is 355 and if tourists don’t spot a single tiger during their safari, then how will they see one if the numbers are reduced?” Better management of wildlife is the key, and involves a mix of approaches including the idea of tiger diplomacy. But because many human-wildlife conflict cases take place when locals go to the forest to collect firewood or fodder, they should be aware of safety precautions. “We have worked continuously through skill development and behaviour change campaigns to help the locals live and maintain a livelihood in the buffer zone and protected areas,” adds Gurung. “This has been one of our major goals, to uplift the living standards of the locals so that they can coexist with wildlife in the area.”&nbsp;

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