<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d08959c7e80680e0a6026jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>The highly protected Pachale orchid bulbs in Gorkha. Photo: RESHU BASHYAL/GREENHOOD NEPAL</figcaption></figure>World Nature Conservation Day on 28 July is a reminder to us to conserve nature and nurture it. Too often, however, our visions of nature exclude plants and our rich relationship with them.Plants are everywhere, which makes them vital but also easy to overlook. They are often left in the background, both during public discourse and by government officials allocating conservation budgets. Conservation campaigns and projects tend to focus on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-tiger-conservation-too-successful/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">charismatic animals like rhinos and tigers</a>, and on protecting Nepal’s spectacular landscapes.However, all of these animals and places rely on the plant life that surrounds us. This includes many rare, threatened, and unique plant species. Nowhere is this more urgent than with orchids – the most diverse groups of flowering plants on the planet with over 30,000 species globally.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-treasure-trove-of-nepals-orchids/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal hosts over 500 species of orchids</a>, from the unusually shaped foxtail (Rhynchostylis) that grows on trees in the mountains, highly-protected pachaule (Dactylorhiza hatagirea) orchid known for its medicinal properties to the endangered lady slipper (Cypripedium himalaicum) collected for its shoe-shaped flowers.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d08989c7e80680e0a6027jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>More than 100 of them have purported medicinal properties in Chinese, Ayurvedic, and Amchi traditional medicine cultures, ranging from pain relief to aphrodisiacs, and hence highly sought after. Many are also harvested as ornamental plants and as fodder for livestock. Orchids form a vital part of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s rich biodiversity</a>, but many communities also depend on them for livelihood.Nepal has a long history of harvesting and trading wild orchids -- supplying a significant amount of raw material to meet local and international demand both through legal and illegal means. Commercial trade is likely to increase as demand in China and India grows, especially as demand for medicinal plants increases in response to the Covid-19 pandemic.Now there is serious concern about the sustainability and legality of commercial harvesting. Reports suggest that intense collecting has led to the collapse of some populations, resulting in a national ban on the harvest of pachaule orchids in 1993.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d089c9c7e80680e0a6028jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A further ban on the wild harvest of many Nepali plant species - including all orchids - was introduced in 2017, although this is being relaxed in hopes of re-establishing a more sustainable legal harvest in future.Despite these efforts on paper to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5648#.YP6YQS2B2CQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">protect orchids from illegal trade</a>, in practice plant conservation is still often neglected. Orchids have made it into legislation, but often only on paper.Most poaching of wild orchids goes unreported. In Pokhara’s Panchase, harvesters from outside the community have even been using monkeys to gather valuable orchids from local forests.Of late, there have been seizures, including a 2017 case where more than 74kg of Nepal’s most highly protected orchid species were apprehended. There have been over 25 seizures of wild orchids since 2010, nearly half of them bound for China.Yet, seizures of protected plants are very rare and incidental. More often than not it is a case of the police spot-checking a truck or a bus and finding wild plants without permits. These seizures are only the tip of the iceberg, and are in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14348#.YP6Zty2B2CQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">stark contrast to huge investments and efforts deployed to protect threatened animal species</a>.Admittedly, however, our relationship with plants is often different from that we have with animals. Nepal has a long history of legal, regulated trade of many plants, especially medicinal species that are central to its culture, rural livelihoods, and exports. For example, wild spikenard roots are harvested under a strict quota system, and there are efforts to make this regulated trade more sustainable.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d089f9c7e80680e0a6029jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Over the years, the government has issued many regulations, committing to both protecting orchids and also promoting sustainable harvests to enhance income generation of rural communities. This includes the 2013 ‘Orchid Harvest and Commercial Cultivation Directive’ which is being revisited with current amendments to the CITES Act 2017 that may soon allow for more sustainable, legal trade in the future.However, ensuring that the legal trade of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/rare-anti-cancer-tree-on-verge-of-extinction/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wild plants</a> is sustainable requires more than careful management and oversight. Baseline research and regular monitoring are a must. As it is, even for the most sought after 10-15 orchid species, we have surprisingly little information on them, about their trade and distribution, and their numbers in the wild.There are still questions about making orchid trade more sustainable and profitable for local communities while stopping smuggling. Nepal has an opportunity to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/economic-benefits-of-saving-the-ecology/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">protect biodiversity</a> and enhance rural livelihood with benefits fairy distributed along value chains, but only through well-managed, legal sourcing.This is possible only if plant research and conservation are given their due priority. Orchids are found in our laws, in our forests, in our gardens, and in our medicines. This Nature Conservation Day let us commit to protecting them into the future and in the wild.Reshu Bashyal is Research Fellow at Greenhood Nepal.Jacob Phelps, PhD is co-Chair of the IUCN SSC Orchid Specialist Group, Global Trade Programme.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d08a29c7e80680e0a602ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="89" height="103"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d08a39c7e80680e0a602bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="89" height="103">

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Saving nature by protecting orchids

<figure><img width="864" height="648" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141156/636a60799c7e80680e056e81jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>PHOTO: JAYADEV KRISHNA SHRESTHA </figcaption></figure>Rajkumar Shrestha flicked his baton, musicians raised their instruments, and the audience at the Academy Hall in Kathmandu stood up for Nepal’s national anthem gloriously rendered with violins, violas, cello, sitar and flute by a 60-member orchestra.The lyrics of Sayaun Thunga Phool Ka Hami, Eutai Mala Nepali (“We are different flowers of the same garland”) evokes Nepal’s ethnic diversity, but last Wednesday it also defined the diversity of the musicians from Norway and Nepalis of various ages and ethnicities.And because this was a project of the Nepali-Norwegian Orchestra, the soothing tones of the Norwegian national anthem came next. In the center of the orchestra, surrounded by violinists was Eivind Rossbach Heier from the string quartet KvartalKvartetten on the cello alongside his father who played the viola.Raised in a musical family with his mother a cellist and sister a violinist, Heier first came to Nepal in 2015 as an instructor with three other tutors and fifteen young people through a youth orchestra in Norway. Their goal was to teach Nepali musicians classical music to establish orchestras in the country. <figure><img width="1600" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141156/636a607c9c7e80680e056e82jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>PHOTO: JAYADEV KRISHNA SHRESTHA </figcaption></figure>The Annapurna Chamber Orchestra met the Norwegian musicians from KvartalKvartetten through the World Federation of Amateur Orchestra. The project trains Nepali students for a week and  organises performances in different venues of Kathmandu.Ten Nepali musicians also go to Norway for the week-long annual Orchestra Summer Course to interact and exchange music with their Norwegian counterparts. During the course, Nepali and Norwegian musicians play music from both countries even though they sound completely different.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFe9XQLtJWs&amp;feature=youtu.be Says Heier: “Despite their differences, the appreciation of music is universal. Nepali music has more melodies but not many harmonies which is the biggest difference from Western music. But it is the language of music that brings us together.”  Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/jazzmandu-2019-kicks-off/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Jazzmandu 2019 kicks off</a>, Nepali TimesThe exchange has also helped the musicians learn about Nepal through music and share a commonality. "It was interesting that after we heard the translated titles of the Nepali songs, we were reminded of patriotic songs from Norway as well,” said music instructor Ole Rasmus Bjerke.In the last five years of the project, the instructors as well as the young musicians know that their music has improved. Says 18-year-old Bikalp Singh Dura: "I used to play in the junior orchestra, and now I play with the seniors. I can feel the difference and my confidence building up.”   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGP6hz85ngc&amp;feature=youtu.beThe number of Nepali musicians has also doubled since 2015 from 30 to 60 aged between 10-60 years, and is projected to expand in the coming years. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/jazz-returns-to-the-mandu/">Jazz returns to the ‘Mandu</a>, Sanghamitra Subba <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/norway-nepal-a-love-story/">Norway-Nepal, a love story</a>, Kunda Dixit  “The future of the Nepali orchestra is bright. It is growing through these programs,” says Rajkumar Shrestha, conductor and chairman of The Annapurna Chamber Orchestra. “The only challenge is that most students leave the country after Grade 12 for higher studies and we lose good musicians.”

Nepal-Norway orchestra find harmonies

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO3BZW81_TI&amp;feature=youtu.beEver since he established Barkatiya School in Nepalganj in 1993 on leased property, principal Maulana Ziaul Mustafa Noorani has worked relentlessly to improve the quality of instruction in his madrasa.More than 500 students attend the school from primary to Grade 10, studying all the subjects in Nepal’s education curriculum, like science, English, mathematics and social studies. But they also study Urdu and Arabic, mandatory according to Muslim culture.“I transferred from a private school to Barkatiya because I wanted to understand my religion,” says Sahin Khatun, who passed her SLC and is now teaching English at the same school. “The school also prepared me to be well-rounded in all other subjects and gave me a future.”Apart from students following the regular curriculum, Barkatiya has 80 children studying religion, who will graduate to become clerics in their communities.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25904&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Moving to the mainstream</a>, Chandra Kishore<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25919&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Keeping ghazal alive in Nepalgunj</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fd49c7e80680e04a5e9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>Well rounded: Grade 6 students of Barkatiya School studying Nepali. The madrasa has all subjects of the government curriculum with additional Urdu and Arabic. Pics: Prakriti Kandel</figcaption></figure>The majority of madrasas in Nepal used to be religious institutions, but in 2004 the government started registering them as government schools and had them adopt the Nepali curriculum, while allowing them to continue religious learning.However although they are registered, madrasas do not receive the same treatment as other government schools. Barkatiya itself is short-staffed and underfunded, with only three teachers provided by the government for classes up to Grade 10.“In spite of being mainstreamed, community leaders and schools feel discriminated against because they do not get the facilities other government schools have,” explains Samim Miya Ansari of the National Muslim Commission.Despite being a school that the community considers a model, Barkatiya receives minimal funding, and the budget set aside for scholarships for needy students has to be diverted to salaries of teachers, most of whom are hired outside of the government’s quota.After the 2017 elections, which returned <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/rana-regime-restored-in-nepalganj/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dhawal Rana as mayor of Nepalganj</a>, the school for the first time got funding from the municipality — Rs700,000. However, the education budget is still centralised in Kathmandu, so local governments lack the jurisdiction and resources to allocate to schools in their municipalities.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Class struggle</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lowest Common Denominator</a>, Editorial<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fd79c7e80680e04a5eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">This pertains not just to Nepalganj — madrasa schools across Nepal face a shortage of teachers and funding. The situation is most critical in Province 2, which has the largest Muslim population and the highest number of madrasas.Registered madrasa schools have been receiving Rs168,000 per year as government grants, which is insufficient. With that amount they have to put together their own infrastructure and run the schools with a limited teacher quota, while dealing with misappropriation of even the meagre grants. Many teachers do not receive even their minimal salaries on time and numerous madrasas now have to raise additional money from India or the Middle East.Meanwhile, government schools are allocated bigger budgets, have buildings, playgrounds and furniture, and enough resources to hire teachers.Barkatiya is relatively well managed, but most madrasa schools have little oversight and regulation. “Our madrasa schools do not have proper management committees so quality control and financial discipline is a huge problem,” admits Naim Ansari of Samaj Bikas Kendra in Mahottari. Registered madrasas in that district have official permission to conduct only Grade 1, while the other grades are unofficial, which is a reflection of the lack of oversight by government.Poor support and regulation of madrasa schools has taken a toll on the living standard of Nepal’s Muslim community. Nearly one-quarter live below the poverty line. The Human Development Index of Muslims is 0.422, which is lower than that for Dalits all over Nepal (0.434), according to the 2014 Human Development Report by the National Planning Commission and UNDP. Province 2 has half the number of out-of-school children in Nepal: one-third between the ages of 5 and 12 do not attend school. Most of them are Muslim or Dalit.Samim Miya Ansari hopes the situation will improve now that the Muslim Commission and the Ministry of Education are prioritising the quality of madrasas. (See interview).The High-Level Education Commission’s report in January, which triggered a controversy after its call to convert private to public schools, also had a section which reiterated the need to mainstream madrasa schools and called for recognising the qualifications of religious teachers.Mainstreaming of madrasa schools may have started in 2004, but it has not covered all madrasas in Nepal, mainly because of lack of commitment from the government in Kathmandu. This negligence is depriving the members of one of the country's most marginalised communities from advancing and from being treated equally with other citizens.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">After quantity, Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-science-of-learning/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Science of Learning</a>, Prakriti Kandel<h2>Upgrading madrasa schools</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fda9c7e80680e04a5ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">Samim Miya Ansari, the newly-appointed chair of the National Muslim Commission, spoke to Nepali Times  this week:Nepali Times: What is the current situation of madrasas in Nepal?Samim Miya Ansari: Madrasas are educational institutions related to our culture, but ultimately they are like any other school. But they are not properly managed. Government grants are inadequate, facilities are lacking, they do not even have furniture. The Muslim community is a little disheartened that madrasa schools do not have even the minimal facilities present in government schools. I have been communicating with the government to resolve this problem.What will be your commission's role?The commission is a constitutional body working to improve the status of the Muslim community. In Province 1 and 2, we have conducted hearings in which issues regarding madrasa schools came up. I have urged the government to mainstream madrasas — we cannot ignore Urdu and Arabic subjects, but the Nepali curriculum is also extremely important for Muslim children. Madrasa schools need a proper body to monitor them, which is why a Madrasa Board is being set up under the Education Ministry.What lessons can Nepal learn from the recent terrorist attacks in Sri Lanka?What happened in Sri Lanka is very sad. But the situation in Nepal is different — all religions have lived in harmony and like one family in Nepal for a very long time. Before the 2015 Constitution was promulgated, we had nation-wide protests for the rights of Muslims, but they were all peaceful.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19396#.XMrV-RQzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Money, modernity and madrasas</a>, Sabir Ansari<h2>Keeping ghazal alive in Nepalganj</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fdd9c7e80680e04a5ecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Wearing a white salwar kameez that matches his short white beard, Mustafa Ahasan (at left, above) calmly sews clothes at his tailoring shop near Tribhuvan Chok, the old Muslim quarter of Nepalganj.But the 51-year-old is no ordinary tailor — behind him on the wall hangs a certificate vouching for his credential as a noted poet of Urdu ghazal and shayari, forms much admired but little understood in Nepal.Ahasan and his fellow ghazal enthusiasts keep the proper forms of Urdu poetry alive in Nepalganj through a group called Gulzar-e-adab. With 18% of its population Muslim, the influence of Islamic culture is evident everywhere in this western Tarai city bordering India.The narrow street called Eklaini has swirling Islamic curlicues over doors and terraces, even on modern concrete buildings, and the sidewalks are packed with colourful chura-pote shops selling bangles and glass beads.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25904&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Moving to the mainstream</a>, Chandra Kishore<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25910&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims on the margins</a>, Prakriti KandelMustafa Ahasan was educated in a Nepalganj madrasa and went on to get a degree in literature from Aligarh University in India, where he also learnt Arabic, Persian and poetic metres called beher used in these languages.“There are only a handful of people in Nepal today who write Urdu poetry in beher, and half of us are here in Nepalganj,” says Ahasan. “We keep up the tradition of Motiram Bhatta, who introduced ghazal in Nepal and who was proficient in these metres.”Gulzar-e-Adab has been holding regular monthly ghazal events for the past 40 years, says 81-year-old poet Abdul Lateef Shauk (at right, above): “Our events are not just for Urdu poets; we also have recitals in Nepali, Hindi and Awadhi. They are a vibrant hub for cross-cultural exchange.”Once in a while, the group also holds all-night Mushayra events, inviting poets from across Nepal and India. But Shauk and Ahasan say they are swimming against the tide, as the interest in traditional Urdu poetry is dwindling.Ghazal scholar Ghanashyam Nyaupane is among a handful of poets writing in beher in Nepal, and agrees that these forms are not very well understood in Nepal. “There are three strands of ghazal writing in Nepal: one group creates its own metres and purists do not like it. The second group has no knowledge of metre at all and just rhyme. The third writes in classical Urdu metre, but this group is very small and getting smaller.”Sewa BhattaraiRead also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2047#.XMrZRBQzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/written-locally-read-globally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Written locally, read globally</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

Nepali Muslims on the margins

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fbf9c7e80680e04a5e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Pic: Bikram Rai</figcaption></figure>Muslims have been living in Nepal even before this country existed. Before the 15th century, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Tibetan-muslims-celebrate-ramadan,1505" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tibetan Muslims</a> from Ladakh traded in woollen products with the kingdoms of Jumla and Mustang. King Ratna Malla sent emissaries to Lhasa and convinced Kashmiri Muslims to use Kathmandu as an entrepôt for trade with India.The 22 and 24 Kingdoms of Central Nepal brought in Muslim gunsmiths to make muskets and train troops. Others followed in the 17th century to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/assimilating-generations-of-Newari-muslims,2937" target="_blank" rel="noopener">trade in bangles and glass beads</a>, and many of their descendants still ply the trade in Palpa, Patan and Bhaktapur.Today, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2047#.XMfhlMMza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims</a> live in all seven provinces, and form 4.4% of the country’s population. The greatest density is in the Eastern Tarai, where some districts like Bara and Rautahat are more than 15% Muslim. Many of the 28 people killed when a tornado tore through villages in Bara on the night of 31 March were Muslim.Anthropologists divide Nepali Muslims into five groups, depending on the time of settlement in Nepal and their place of origin: Kashmiri Muslims, Indian Muslims, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/there-are-muslims-in-tibet-too/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tibetan Muslims</a>, Tarai Muslims (which includes Bihari Muslims from Bangladesh settled in the eastern Tarai), Mountain Muslims and a more recent influx of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ramadan-in-exile/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rohingya</a> refugees from Burma. Despite the diversity within the community, Nepali Muslims have always strived for a common identity based on their Islamic faith.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25910&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims on the margins</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25919&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Keeping ghazal alive in Nepalganj</a>, Sewa BhattaraiMuslims have historically struggled to be included in the socio-economic and political mainstream of the country. Despite forming a relatively small proportion of the national population, the Muslim vote bank constitutes an important enough swing vote to be wooed by the national parties.Province 2 Chief Minister Mohammad Lalbabu Raut, of the Federal Socialist Forum Nepal, is the only Muslim chief minister under the federal system. Earlier, he was a member of the Constituent Assembly and as one of the senior-most Muslim politicians, the symbolism of his position goes beyond Province 2.During the Madhes Movement, many Nepali Muslims tried <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/When-Banke-burned,1807" target="_blank" rel="noopener">not to be identified as Madhesi</a>, but their involvement in the 2015 agitation established the clout of this community in the Tarai. Now, Nepal’s Muslims are intent on carving out a distinct identity that is not solely based on religion or the perception of them across the border in India.Although the poverty rate among Muslims in Nepal is not as high as Tarai Dalits, for example, their literacy rate of 40% is much lower than the national average of 65%. Literacy among Muslim women is even lower. There is debate within the Muslim community about the madrasa-based education system and whether it prevents youth from competing for jobs and integrating into mainstream Nepali society.Muslim women, especially, are seen to be unable to participate on an equal footing with their peers.The exclusionary nature of some <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19396#.XMfiJsMza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">madrasas</a> have made them an object of suspicion, and greater transparency in their conduct would help both the Muslim community and the nation at large.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/When-Banke-burned,1807" target="_blank" rel="noopener">When Banke Burned</a>, Basanta Upadhyaya<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/assimilating-generations-of-Newari-muslims,2937" target="_blank" rel="noopener">How to braid two cultures together</a>, Seulki LeeNepal’s constitution gives the Muslim community the opportunity to rise and address its shortcomings. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19550#.XMfhbcMza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Islamic holy days</a> are now recognised as national holidays and the mainstream press provides adequate coverage to Muslim issues. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15711#.XMfiQcMza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s Muslim community</a> must take advantage of the equal rights of inclusion accorded to Nepal’s faiths and ethnicities.Nepal’s Muslims should not be swayed by the strong slogans and agendas from across the border, or dismayed by what is happening across the Subcontinent. Nepal’s polity provides them adequate space for social, economic and political uplifting.Chandra Kishore is a Birganj-based commentator. datelineterai@gmail.comRead also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ramadan-in-exile/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Ramadan in exile</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

Moving to the mainstream

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;

diversity