Pasang Lhamu Sherpa was the first Nepali woman to climb Mt Everest, but she died on the descent. She is a national icon, but few have heard of Lhakpa Sherpa, the first Nepali woman to scale the world’s highest mountain and get back down alive.
Both Pasang and Lhakpa were enduring, resilient women who defied the patriarchy, struggled, and triumphed. Their compelling stories are the subjects of two international documentaries.
The 2024 Netflix film Mountain Queen: The Summits of Lhakpa Sherpa recounts her career from porter to a mountaineer who scaled Mt Everest for the 10th time in 2022, and then her hard life as an immigrant in the United States.
That film follows the 2022 documentary Pasang: In the Shadow of Everest which breathes life into a celebrated national hero whose climb and tragic death every Nepali knows by heart. The film is available on Amazon Prime Video in the UK and the US.
The recent trend of making documentaries about mountaineering for streaming sites was kicked off by 14 Peaks: Nothing Is Impossible featuring Nepal-born Nims Purja, in 2021. 14 Peaks was on Netflix's top ten list for months after its release.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/seeking-identity-in-diversity">Seeking identity in diversity</a>, Sonia Awale
This was followed by another Netflix production, the docuseries Aftershock: Everest and the Nepal Earthquake about the earthquake-triggered avalanche at Everest Base Camp in 2015 that killed 18 climbers.
Biopics about mountaineers or dramatised adaptations of real-life expeditions have an even longer history with Hollywood’s 1998 IMAX film Everest and the 2015 movie, also titled Everest, about climbers killed by a storm on the mountain in 1996. A biopic on Tenzing Norgay is currently being produced by Apple Original Films starring Tom Hiddleston and William Dafoe.
“The West had always seen Nepal from the set narrative of exotic Shangri La or Shambala, and mountaineering adventure has always pulled them,” explains Ramyata Limbu of the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival (KIMFF).
More rare have been films about Nepali mountaineers made by Nepali producers. But as Nepali mountain guides move from being porters for hire to expedition leaders and accomplished mountaineers in their own right, this may be changing.
Says filmmaker Shanta Nepali: “It is only now that the extraordinary stories of Nepali mountaineers are being recognised.” Her 2023 documentary Climbing Temperatures features the Sherpa struggle to adapt to the impact of climate breakdown in the Himalaya.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/pasang-lhamu-sherpa-the-film">Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, the film</a>, Tayama Rai
The 2024 documentary Girls Rewriting Destiny by Lawa Pyakurel is another example of Nepali filmmakers telling the story of Nepali mountaineers. Pyakurel’s documentary stars mountaineer Maya Gurung and explores the lives she has touched over the years.&nbsp;
As Nepalis gain fame and respect for their mountaineering feats, this has concurrently opened up opportunities for local filmmakers to chronicle their adventures on streaming channels.
“It is ten times harder for Nepali filmmakers to take equally deserving Nepali stories to a global platform like Netflix,” says Nepali. “It’s not that we cannot come up with good stories, we just cannot afford it.”
Lack of exposure and a talent gap means some Nepali productions have not been of sufficient quality for streaming sites to take interest. Co-production can be a way out for films on mountaineering, and some have opted for this. But it is equally important for international filmmakers to use local expertise where available so the stories ring true.
Says Nepali. “If local filmmakers are hired just as fixers, they don’t have much say. But if it is for creative input in cinematography, production, or their cultural understanding, the production has an authentic voice.”&nbsp;
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-star-shines-in-locarno"> Nepal’s star shines in Locarno</a>, Pinki Sris Rana

Pinki Sris Rana

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Streaming the Himalaya on film

<img width="1080" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414110/63723c569c7e80680e0c9614jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>This is the 16th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Prakash KatuwalMy earliest memory from childhood is working on household chores at my father’s friend’s house in Jhapa while studying on the side. I had to wake up at 4AM, finish cleaning and washing and take the livestock out. I used to fall asleep in the grass as the goats grazed.I went back to stay with my parents later. My father, a policeman, was posted in different parts of the country. This was pre-mobile, pre-internet days, so the only way to keep in touch was by mail. Many of my handwritten letters got lost because my father would have been transferred by the time the letters reached.There was no wire transfer, so it was only when he came home on leave that my father brought his savings, sometimes after a year. This meant there were times when we did not have any cash, and my mother had to do odd jobs in the village while I took care of my younger siblings. She worked hard to raise us.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2/">Diaspora Diaries 2</a>, Nepali TimesI landed up in Darjeeling after my SLC exams, and was working as a security guard when I found out I had passed. I returned to Jhapa and then to Kathmandu to get higher education.Living in poverty takes a toll on you, especially when you are of an impressionable age and observe how your financially better off classmates have it much easier. Sometimes, we had no food and had to eat wild roots. But now, those things are all distant memories.  My parents had ancestral land in Chandragiri that they sold for Rs120,000. I am told the land is now worth Rs10 million. Still, in those days even that 120,000 went a long way to cover my family’s expenses and to build a small house. <img width="640" height="666" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414110/63723c599c7e80680e0c9615jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="853" height="640" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414110/63723c5b9c7e80680e0c9616jpeg.jpg" alt="">In Kathmandu, I trained as a cook after a friend convinced me that there was a secure future in it. I started working at China and World (CW) restaurant in Kathmandu and the trajectory of my life finally began to change. For six months as a trainee, I worked 18 hours a day without any pay. My boss noticed my effort, and I got a paid position. This experience helped me get a job in Guangzhou, China where I worked for six years.I toiled so hard in China that I often had bloodshot eyes out of stress and over-exhaustion. There were two other Nepalis in the restaurant along with Chinese employees. I did not speak or understand Cantonese, so it was challenging. I also learnt how strong work ethics and sincerity could be conveyed despite the language barrier.Within a few months, my manager and colleagues started warming up to me and we had good rapport. I taught myself Cantonese, often relying on Nepali agents in China who were our customers at the restaurant. At 24, I returned to Nepal where I worked in a few hotels as a chef. I did apply for jobs in the Gulf and passed two interviews for Dubai-based positions, but turned them down as I was not satisfied with the salaries offered. In China, I was making up to Rs200,000 a month.  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/">With Covid</a>, I lost my job at a hotel in Bara in Nepal. But I still had skills and savings so I started a home delivery service called Home Food. I cooked the food myself, and delivered it to customers. Business picked up quite well with 40 orders a day.Soon, one of my mentors and guardians, Krishna Poudel with whom I had previously worked, expressed an interest in starting a Turkish restaurant in Kathmandu. I am now one of the shareholders of <a href="https://alevkebab.com.np/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://alevkebab.com.np/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1666167536208000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2IlWBoIyFGjldLWHUj_wFN">Alev Kebab Sultanate</a> and also its chief chef. It has filled a niche in the market, and is doing quite well. The appeal of Turkish food goes beyond just its taste, there is art in the way the food is served.   <img width="1407" height="2015" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414110/63723c5e9c7e80680e0c9617jpeg.jpg" alt="">For someone from my background, this is a huge platform. The restaurant is exceptionally busy during evenings. Mornings are slower, which gives me time to think about what we can do better.The two Nepali colleagues I had worked with in Guangzhou saw their future in China, so they had a different set of priorities. Nepalis who start as cooks there transition to become agents catering to the needs of the businessmen who come from all over the world who don’t have language skills to navigate the Chinese market. The earnings of agents are much better. But I did not want to stay abroad, and the experience there has opened up many opportunities for me back here in Nepal.For those of us who have had to struggle our way up, when one of us makes it so do others in our network. My younger brother and sister had it much easier because I was around to take care of them, their education. I am now building a house for my parents. We have come a long way. Being able to give back to my family and to Nepal is a privilege that makes me proud.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/">Crossborder virus and Nepali migrant workers</a>, Upasana KhadkaAt the end of the day, those of us who go for foreign employment eventually come back. In China, things were systematic but all I did was hustle to earn as much as I could. Even though there were Nepalis in Ghanzhou, I did not open up about my personal struggle or rely on them for support even when there were times when I was in tears even as I cooked.I guess the 18-hour workdays limited any real socialising. But here in Nepal you can feel the strength of the support system from your loved ones who are close by at all times. And that matters a lot, as does the familiarity. Having missed that abroad, makes me value it even more.  The struggle continues, but its nature has changed. I feel proud to grapple with the challenges of co-owning a restaurant where I also work as Chef. It is not easy, of course. There are opportunities in Nepal, but you need a lot of patience to work the system. Sometimes, when people return from abroad with some capital, they want instant results. Sadly, it does not work that way in Nepal.  If there is one thing that I have learnt, it is that sooner or later, hard work eventually pays off.Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1666167536208000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3Wny_CK-PMWtVhLGjCZEBB">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line. Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-to-save-my-sisters-life/">Saving  to save my sister</a>, Nepali Times

Proud to give back to Nepal

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

The Kangchenjunga Trek in far-eastern Nepal is a remote and less-crowded adventure that offers raw wilderness, diverse cultures, and breathtaking terrain below the world’s third highest mountain. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) grabbed the world’s attention before Mt Everest ever did because its imposing rampart dominated the northern horizon from Darjeeling, the summer refuge for the British in India. The Kangchenjunga massif is more a mountain range rather than a peak, its high ridge stretching 25km from Nepal to Sikkim.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c" data-rendition-name="original" width="938" height="726" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga trail map"></figure>  Sikkim considers the mountain sacred, and has banned mountaineering expeditions. But the various prominences of Kangchenjunga are increasingly popular for climbers via the north face in Nepal. For non-mountaineers, even the Kangchenjunga trek can be arduous, especially in winter. It is one of the last pure wilderness areas in Nepal, traversing sparsely populated valleys that are rich in biodiversity because of the high annual rainfall. Even when Nepal was a forbidden land, among the first foreign visitors was British botanist J D Hooker who explored the Nepal side of Kangchenjunga in 1850 to collect plant samples. The peak was first climbed in 1955, two years after the first ascent of Mt Everest.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The establishment of Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in September 2006 was accompanied by tragedy when 24 people, including Nepal’s nature preservation pioneers were killed in a helicopter crash. The Conservation Area is now the only one managed completely by the local indigenous people. It has 70 varieties of orchids, 30 rhododendron types, and 15 out of 28 endemic plants of Nepal. Kangchenjunga still gets very few of the 200,000 foreign trekkers who visit Nepal every year, but improved road access in recent years is making it more popular. Trekkers have a choice of exploring the North Base Camp (Pangpema) or the South Base Camp (Yalung Glacier), or combine both for the full Kangchenjunga Circuit (map). This trek is considered strenuous, with long walking days, high altitude, and tea house accommodation that is much more basic than the Everest or Annapurna regions. Trekkers have to be fit and with prior hiking experience. Most teams take tents and camp, and carry most of their food.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  FULL CIRCUIT Because the region is restricted, trekkers must obtain a permit and be accompanied by a licensed guide. A full circuit can take three weeks, while doing only the North or South Base Camps will take two weeks, including flying from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur and jeep to Taplejung or a rough trail to Hellok. The lower forested stretches are teeming with wildlife, and this is red panda and snow leopard country. The streams and ponds have amphibians and reptiles, some of which have not yet even been classified. The route also passes the homelands of the Limbu, Rai and Tibetan communities with the local culture and architecture more intact than in most other mountain areas of Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The best seasons to trek are spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November). There are fewer trekkers and climbers in winter, and many of the birds and wildlife have migrated down to warmer climes. Despite its beauty, trekkers should be prepared for challenges like long distances between villages, unpredictable weather, and limited emergency rescue options due to the remoteness of the area — all even more challenging in winter. Norbu Lama is an international hiking guide with www.dolpocaravantreks.com and just returned after leading a trek to Kangchenjunga Base Camps.

Kangchenjunga in winter

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>

documentary-about-migrant-workers

Streaming the Himalaya on film

Proud to give back to Nepal

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

The Himalaya is not fragile

Kangchenjunga in winter

The war between people