Menstrual stigma remains a lived reality in Nepal, where taboos and violence are still justified in the name of tradition. What is framed as cultural practice is often unsafe, excludes women and deprives them of dignity. Women are forced to face everyday restrictions, to isolate themselves, limit them from access to health information, sanitation, and timely care. Although with education, the practice is less prevalent, it is still entrenched in rural and marginalised communities. Which is why the book Celebrating Menstrual Activists in Nepal is an important reflective documentation of such experiences, practical interventions, lessons and possibilities, with grassroots activism against menstrual banishment from across Nepal. The dominant international narrative of menstruation in Nepal is often reduced to images of women confined in cowsheds on the internet. While the practice of chhaupadi is real and brutal, focusing just on this singular issue erases the diversity of menstrual experiences and activism all over Nepal. “Simply searching ‘menstruation’ in Nepal shows a starkly stereotypical narrative as compared to other countries, where activism, products, and choice dominate the imagery,” says the book’s curator Sara Parker: Parker and Laxmi Dhital interviewed activists from different walks of life, purpose, and responsibilities, all of whom are central to translating legislation into change at the grassroots, some through their focus on practical access and sustainability, others foregrounding gender norms and structural power. LOCAL SOLUTIONS Anupa Shrestha addresses fundamental menstrual health issues such as hygiene, irregular menstruation, menopause, and family planning, but her primary focus is on producing reusable menstrual pads. Anupa spent over two months researching reusable pad production online before locating a trainer in Kathmandu. She then organised her first training session with 15 women. The pads, made from cotton cloth and other absorbent materials, are designed to last at least one year, making them both cost-effective and environmentally sustainable, and has reached over 1,000 people. School-based training is particularly effective. Beni Rani Ghale’s Freedom Period Pads and Claire Lin’s Love Lovely Pads also integrate sustainability, livelihoods, and bodily education, employing local women and reducing menstrual waste. Gyan Maharjan, widely known as ‘Pad Man’, argues that menstrual stigma is rooted in patriarchy and cannot be dismantled without men’s involvement. He envisions a society where fathers can openly explain menstruation to their daughters without shame, and where adolescent girls are equipped with accurate information rather than fear. Maharjan founded X-pose Nepal to address sexual harassment and now employs local women to create reusable and disposable menstrual products. Youth activist Ashwin Karki believes in involving young people in awareness campaigns for behavioural change to ensure that the next generation experiences less discrimination. Babu Kaji Shrestha of Global Action Nepal (GAN), views education as essential for long-term change with improved teaching practices around reproductive and sexual health education. The book expands menstruation beyond hygiene, linking it to nutrition, mental health, and dignity. Bonita Sharma talks about diet, mental health, hygiene, and bodily changes, addressing cramps, hormonal fluctuations, weakness, and variations in bleeding and discharge. Pema Lhaki, a member of the Nepal Fertility Care Centre (NFCC) adapts campaigns to specific communities. She questions the term ‘dignified menstruation’, arguing that activists should focus on normalising menstruation rather than moralising it. In western Nepal, Durga Giri works directly with communities, politicians, teachers, and police to challenge chhaupadi practices, remaining optimistic that sustained engagement at the grassroots level can shift entrenched mindsets. Artist Ashmina Ranjitkar uses visual and political art to confront menstrual shame, saying it is life-affirming rather than impure. Journalists and advocates such as Ganga Khadka demonstrate how activism can influence national policy, most notably through the provision of free menstrual pads in schools. Despite threats, violence, and exclusion, Radha Paudel, founder of the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation, frames menstrual discrimination as a human right violation rooted in the myth of impurity that sustains gender-based violence and inequality. The book shuns simplification and offers a layered, grounded account of why the fight to normalise menstruation must continue. It is a creative outcome of Dignity Without Danger (DWD), a British Academy–GCRF–funded research project. Illustrated by Sophie Maliphant, the book invites readers to engage, to reflect on their learnings and become a part of this movement by sharing the impact of reading these stories with #CelebratingMenstrualActivists, #MenstrualActivistStories and @DignityWithoutDanger. The funds raised from the book will be used to support further menstrual education initiatives by Global Action Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251225111244_29fdde4e907d5edbf98b629e1ab299f4dd59800711b377fe02e1df124b3cca36.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251225111244_29fdde4e907d5edbf98b629e1ab299f4dd59800711b377fe02e1df124b3cca36" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="That time of the month NT"></figure>

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That time of the month

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111132/637219279c7e80680e0baa84jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1000"/>If you Google the words ‘menstruation’ and ‘Nepal’, one will come across articles upon articles about tragic deaths in menstrual <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">chhau huts</a> from smoke inhalation and snake bites. Much of the media attention is focused on extreme cases in the Far West.But largely left is how many women and girls across Nepal lack the basic right to<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> dignified menstruation</a>. Exclusionary practices, stigma and taboos around menstruation, underpinned by traditional religious and cultural beliefs, prevent them from fully participating in economic and social life with consequences on schooling, employment and physical and mental health.New research entitled ‘Dignity Without Danger’ funded by the British Academy Global Challenge Research Fund has brought together researchers from Liverpool John Moores University, the School of Oriental and African Studies in the United Kingdom, and Tribhuvan University to identify and celebrate menstrual activists in Nepal. They have made re-washable and biodegradable pads, developed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">educational toolkits</a> on periods, and advocated for menstrual rights through art and media.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Communicating to remove menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111132/6372192b9c7e80680e0baa85jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1000">This research is focused on the menstrual dignity of Nepali women and girls, and their rights to sexual and reproductive health to enable them to challenge <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exclusionary practices</a> that still exist despite being outlawed. The project worked with existing local partners and trained local researchers in rapid ethnography, who then visited all seven provinces to explore and analyse the complexity of menstrual knowledge.To reduce the suffering, discrimination and violence against menstruating women and girls, and to promote partnership for sustainable human development, it identified key areas where <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">collaborative work with local </a> actors and communities is crucial, and developed creative outputs, policy recommendations and strategies to support the work being done in Nepal.The project collaborated with groups including the Menstrual Health and Hygiene Partnership Alliance (MHM PA) and creative artists such as Kaalo.101 and Jay Poudyal from Stories of Nepal to engage a wide audience to help break the stigma and create spaces for people to discuss their own beliefs and practices and challenge stereotypical views.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Uprety<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111132/6372192e9c7e80680e0baa86jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1000">The MHM PA has worked with relevant ministries to develop a Dignified Menstruation Policy that has yet to be ratified and the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation was founded by the Nepali NGO the Radha Paudel Foundation.Global Action Nepal has also worked with MHM PA and GiZ, as well as educational experts and relevant ministries to develop and pilot a ‘menstrual education toolkit’ to help collate, develop and promote quality educational resources which can be used in schools and community settings. These will also be on display during the events to celebrate Menstrual Hygiene Day this week under the global theme of menstrual education.We will also be launching a book with stories of our 34 activists in September this year to inspire others to share their own stories so we can learn more about what is happening on the ground. These individuals come from different backgrounds, but together for a cause, to challenge negative attitudes, educate people about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">menstruation</a>, advocate for policies and support initiatives to help people to manage their menstruation.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111132/637219319c7e80680e0baa87jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="750">Many are part of MHM PA Nepal while others are more grounded in the local level, all collectively making Nepal a leader in menstrual activism.This forthcoming book will be available online and along with the exhibition on 27 May at Dhokaima Café in Patan a bike tour organised by X-pose Nepal will take place on 28 May, World Menstrual Hygiene Day, to celebrate the activism in Nepal, all the while helping to break the stigma and silence that surrounds menstruation.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/bloody-period/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bloody period</a>, Nepali TimesTo share your own stories: @dignitywithoutdanger, @DWDNepal Sara Parker is a lecturer at the Liverpool John Moores University in the UK and Madhusudan Subedi is a Professor of Sociology at Tribhuvan University in Nepal.

Celebrating menstruation in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915110/636bb2789c7e80680e07bae4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="930" height="620"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Period stigma has long blighted the lives of young women and girls in Nepal, but the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ensuring-menstrual-hygiene-during-nepal-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ensuring-menstrual-hygiene-during-nepal-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFRijVaIWllHBMsdGej-K1GWY9sUw">pandemic is making things worse</a>. If action isn’t taken to help girls menstruate safely, hygienically, and with dignity, Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGthfvaonsA70ekl3khwSP5i87ZrA">gradual progress in tackling taboos</a> and stigma around menstruation risks being undone.Families are spending long days, weeks, months indoors, and the continued lockdown is reinforcing harmful practices and stigma around menstruation. We have all come to realise the importance of routine hand-washing, but hygiene does not stop there. Menstruation does not stop during a pandemic, nor does the intense stigma associated with it in Nepal.Even without the pressures of the lockdown, many girls and women in poor, rural parts of Nepal simply do not have access to clean running water and soap. They also do not have menstruation pads, and even when they do many find themselves <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGkUXe1S5cwSBXCUsDHIGPMJFT67w">facing stigma in the household</a>, making their day-to-day lives all the more difficult.In communities where our Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) works, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFwh8i-WtKzK-Z0JIQog2-ixKuTOw">chhaupadi</a> still persists despite the government’s ban on so-called <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/their-songs-from-the-forest/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/their-songs-from-the-forest/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEa0nTiimV03Cl0KYM5qIyPLMx5Vw">‘period huts’</a>, and a three-month prison sentence and fine for  forcing girls to menstruate in huts. But some are still sent to caves and other locations which put them at risk.To remain ‘clean’, girls are forbidden to touch communal objects in the household. Menstruation untouchability is still practiced and promoted, and even the Nepali word <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE4ZcZ-SxFHOZnulUF2iMVhGjGCLA">nachhuni</a> literally means ‘untouchable’.Women and girls are separated and not allowed to touch and enter kitchen and prayer room. They cannot touch male members of the household, and there is much mental pressure by the family and community members to maintain untouchability norms and practices. Failure to abide by them sometimes leads to ostracisation.At the individual level, it is a painful experience and there are long-term psychological effects of period stigma on girls’ self-esteem, especially among trans and disabled women and girls who face double marginalisation. Some of these women make up our frontline healthcare workers during the time of Covid-19, leading to increased anxiety during the lockdown.Added to all this, the economic crisis is leaving young women and girls unable to afford menstruation products, particularly as prices for sanitary pads have spiked.Last year, the government committed to providing every girl with sanitary pads to help them  continue to go to school in a dignified way and succeed in studies. This year, we reached many girls with the products, helping them stay in school and realise their dreams.This year the government has also allocated funding to provide sanitary pad distribution to schoolgirls. But with schools closed across Nepal for nearly six months now, the goal of reaching every schoolgirl with sanitary pads has been badly interrupted. We are now hearing that girls are resorting to makeshift solutions, risking infection and complications.The pandemic has disrupted every facet of life, but the fight to realise women’s rights to menstruate safely and with dignity must continue. Under the lockdown, VSO is providing hygiene kits to some 4,000 girls across rural Nepal, especially in areas where menstruation taboos and stigma persist.The kits include soap, chlorine wash, underwear and a hygiene kit bag. Prior to the lockdown, VSO also trained over 2,000 young women and girls across four districts to make reusable sanitary pads, a skill which many have put to good use under lockdown.The <a href="https://www.wsscc.org/media/resources/government-nepal-calls-dignified-menstrual-hygiene-management" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.wsscc.org/media/resources/government-nepal-calls-dignified-menstrual-hygiene-management&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHLw7xJvPvYa4obERECweTvlx_SxA">Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHMPA) Alliance Nepal</a> is a national network supporting over 80 initiatives to tackle period stigma in the country which works to shape policy and campaign for change. Its activities are constrained under the lockdown, but the mission to end period stigma across Nepal will not stop.The Nepal government has shown its commitment to end period stigma and other forms of gender inequality. While we fight Covid-19 together, we must also use this moment to ensure the promises we have made to young girls are kept throughout the pandemic and beyond.With the virus continuing to spread in Nepal and schools not opening any time soon, we are calling on national and local governments to honour their original commitment and ensure girls receive free menstrual products even when they are not in school.We have come a long way in improving the rights of women and girls in Nepal, legislating for increased participation of women in politics, while improving their rights in the home. Tackling period stigma is a fundamental part of moving towards a more equal society, and overcoming the barriers women face in public life.We can be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGthfvaonsA70ekl3khwSP5i87ZrA">proud of the progress we have made</a> in challenging harmful practices like chhaupadi – and by working together as communities, civil society and government we can make sure that the pandemic does not hinder, or even reverse, our progress.We must use this moment to leverage the partnerships we have built in recent years between civil society and government to ensure that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGZh3CqDbtQwCnrdB1XdP0dbuVDag">women and girls are not left behind</a> today, and can thrive when the pandemic eventually ends.Geeta Pradhan is the global lead gender adviser at Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO). She has worked in the Asia-Pacific and Africa.

Pandemic deepens period poverty

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

Sky is the limit

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

Nepal’s AI-generated election

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

Time, transience, transition

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