<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40e49c7e80680e04a648jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="544"/>One of the most prominent changes we see while travelling across Nepal these days is the presence of earth movers, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184">bulldozers</a>, tipper trucks and excavators. They dominate the highways, gouge out riverbeds, claw at mountainsides and rip through forests.There may be many planners in Singha Darbar who claim to be the drivers of development. But out in the hinterland, we know who is really making development ‘happen’.Ask Nepalis in the districts what they want the most, and the answer will be “a road”. For them ‘road’ is synonymous with ‘development’, and they are going to get them by any means possible. If anyone still had any doubts, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/trickledown-corruption,4176">Kathmandu is no longer in charge</a>, thanks largely to the devolution of decision-making in the new Constitution.The road-building spree is now fuelled by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/elected-contractors/">local governments</a>, which get to spend money quite indiscriminately. Yet, with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/survey-is-wakeup-call-for-nepal-government/">three-fourths of the population now having access to some kind of road</a>, public demand for any old road is now being superseded by an insistence on black-topped roads that will not be washed away in the next monsoon. Quality is slowly taking precedence over quantity.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18019#.XNpIyuUza70">Roads are a two-way</a> street. They may be designed and built to take local produce to market, but roads also bring the market to remote villages. This can have a huge <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-road-from-nowhere-to-nowhere,549">negative impact</a> on the local economy if competitiveness is lost. Roads can also become an incentive to produce more, or disincentive to pack up and leave for the city or go abroad.Socio-economic and environmental studies are conducted before a road is built, but there is little to show that these recommendations have been studied, much less implemented. Roads may take local trout, strawberries and vegetables to the market, but they also enable human trafficking and the spread of HIV, and push land prices beyond the reach of the poor.On 13 May, Himalayan TV, Dooshan, Facts and V-chitra gave out excellence awards to projects that met new, higher standards. One surprise award went to the restoration of the historic Pim Bahal neighbourhood of Patan.The second surprise was that no one was awarded in the large project category: sending a message that there was plenty of room for improvement. Such due diligence to select winners will in future ensure that the quality of construction will improve. As the saying goes, when everyone stays average, the average goes down – this is what has long plagued the infrastructure sector in Nepal.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12390#.XNpJtOUza70">Dozers are literally changing the face of Nepal</a>. Mountains are no longer the barriers they were, which may be the necessary first step toward prosperity through connectivity. However, this process must ultimately deliver the kind of prosperity that can come with easier movement of value added goods and services. The cost of transport must go down over time.To attain such results, maintenance, management and upgrading of infrastructure must be a continuous process. Roads can not only pay for themselves, they can generate huge revenue in the longer term. Building infrastructure is not expenditure, as is currently perceived, but an investment.Many construction projects today are undertaken through a flawed public procurement regulation that awards the contract to the lowest bidder. This has resulted in many destructive projects and a waste of taxpayers’ money. In future, many projects will be designed, resourced and implemented by the private sector. Competition will help improve things in general.The government can collaborate with the private sector, as we are seeing in hydropower, hotels, schools and hospitals. There could even come a time when development partners will buy back well constructed social infrastructure built by the private sector as their contribution to Nepal’s development.During a recent trip up the Trisuli River, it was heart-warming to see dozers expanding the road to Kerung. Dozers are for development, it just depends on who is driving them.

Anil Chitrakar

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Dozers and Nepal’s development

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef289c7e80680e035964jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="953"/><figcaption>MOVING MOUNTAINS: The remote district of Bajhang is a microcosm of what rampant, random roadbuilding fuelled by local corruption is doing to the environment across Nepal.</figcaption></figure>Paramananda Joshi is 90, but in his long life he had never seen anything like it. The <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/deep-water,3883" target="_blank" rel="noopener">flash-flood</a> swept though his village of Malumela here in the remote mountains of far-western Nepal, washing away farms and making 45 families landless in an instant.In the village of Tollodhika, the Gole Khola flooded for the first time in living memory. The sudden flood swept away five people crossing the stream. That evening, a jeep carrying five people was washed away by the Chaitya River with a ferocity locals had never seen before.“It is just a brook, and it had been raining for less than an hour before the floods came down without warning, how did that happen?” asks Ramdal Mijar, 54.Scientists blame <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">extreme weather events caused by global warming</a>, the impact of which has been exacerbated by a construction spree of unplanned and poorly built roads along fragile mountain slopes.In all, 10 people have been killed by raging floods since April in this area of Bajhang that has seen much road-digging. The crop damage has been extensive, and pushed many farmers in this already food-deficit region to the brink of starvation.The <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Himalayan mid-hills have always had floods and landslides</a>, but how can barely one hour of rain cause such havoc? Why do normally calm streams suddenly turn into angry torrents of mud?“Cloudbursts are becoming more frequent because of erratic weather caused by climate change. Badly constructed roads upstream that alter natural drainage patterns make the floods worse,” explains the Bajhang soil conservation officer Sunil Kumar Gupta.Flooding has been prevalent and unpredictable throughout Nepal during unusually heavy pre-monsoon showers this year. But even normal precipitation can trigger landslides because haphazard road construction disturbs natural drainage, unleashing flash-floods downstream.Finding details about new roads nationwide is impossible. Even the Department of Roads doesn’t have proper records. Bajhang district authorities have no idea where roads are being built, but unofficially we tallied at least 165 currently under construction. There are more than 75 heavy earthmovers in Bajhang alone.Every infrastructure project must by law have an Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA). None of the new improvised roads here have done EIAs.Five years ago the Local Development Ministry (LDM) ordered all District Development Committees to notify them of the use of bulldozers and excavators. They were encouraged to minimise the use of diggers, and have have an engineer present when using them.“These rules are flouted everywhere, no one is enforcing them,” admits Nripraj Joshi of the District Technical Committee. After <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener">an earlier expose by the Centre for Investigative Journalism</a> and being questioned by the LDM, several discussions were held. But that did not go anywhere.Besides floods, road-building has set off rockfalls that have ruined terrace farms. Madan Rokaya has a family of 13, and was once happy that a road was coming to his village. But his terraces were buried by landslides set off by road construction. “I am ruined, I have no land and am now begging for work,” says Rokaya.Subeda village (pictured below) once had the district’s most fertile farms, and its 30 or so families were well off. But most of its farms have been destroyed by rocks and boulders tumbling down the mountains from a road alignment. The contractor, Lama Golden JV, shows no remorse.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef2c9c7e80680e035965jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Singh Bir Rokaya says farmers like him are helpless: “We are just spectators, many of our farms are buried under rocks.”The District Agriculture Office has collected complaints, and says 1,800 families in 40 villages in Bajhang have been affected by road building. Already destitute, many families here have become landless.It is not just farms that have been destroyed, traditional irrigation systems that hugged the contours of mountains have been blocked or washed away by road construction up the slopes.Land is being covered and rendered useless, KC says. He questions the logic of such development, when it means people are being displaced. But there is more to the problem, because water supply is also disrupted. Several irrigation structures have fallen prey to the dozers, he says.“Of the 440 irrigation schemes we had in Bajhang, more than 283 have been destroyed by the bulldozers,” says Rajesh Kumar KC of the Agriculture Development Office here.“The excuse from local politicians is always the same,” KC says, “they tell us that there is always destruction when there is development. They say destruction is temporary whereas development is permanent.”Water supply schemes are also affected. The Padamjelya Drinking Water Project in Sireta village that served 72 families and completed last year at a cost of Rs350,000 was damaged two months later by reckless road construction.“We all volunteered to build this water supply, our dreams are ruined,” says Bijay Joshi. Two other drinking water projects have also been ruined in the area, and locals are back to drinking contaminated water from rivers and springs.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef309c7e80680e035966jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1460" height="1498"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When approached, local politicians often try to shift the blame. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener">One-third of the officials, elected village heads and mayors are contractors, or are from families that own construction companies</a>.They also own excavators and bulldozers and rent them to the municipalities. Many have been found to be awarding contracts to themselves. Devolution under federalism was supposed to stop such greed and lack of accountability, but it appears to have <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/trickledown-corruption,4176" target="_blank" rel="noopener">democratised corruption</a>.To be sure, there are examples of mountain roads that heed the environment and try to minimise the damage to the local economy. The green road concept tries to ensure minimum disruption to slopes, and plan roads to create farm jobs and market access for produce.Unfortunately, the roads being built haphazardly by local governments lack many of these essential attributes. Seismologists warn that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/past-disasters-foretold/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">western Nepal could be hit by a long overdue mega-earthquake</a>, and mountains destabilised by poorly designed roads could trigger catastrophic slope failures.Says Upama Ojha of Geohazards International: "Things are bad enough during normal times, but the haphazard use of bulldozers have increased landslide risk. It is unthinkable what will happen during an earthquake."Province 7 Chief Minister Trilochan Bhatta was recently visited by a group of concerned residents of Thalara-9 which was threatened by the risk of flood and landslide. They told him: “It has been three years since we have slept soundly because of the danger from road construction.”New road constructions even threaten existing highways. Bajhang’--s lifeline to the Tarai was recently black-topped, but rockfall debris from another road up the mountain obstructs it frequently. Last month the important artery was blocked by a landslide triggered by the construction of a feeder-road for two weeks.“The road should never have been built without analysing the environmental impact, and close supervision of the construction methods,” says Chief Engineer Lalijan Khanal of the Department of Roads in the neighbouring district of Baitadi. He said he wrote repeatedly to the district administration about the danger posed by excavators. “They didn’t listen to me,” he says.Such obstruction can mean life or death. Five patients died last year because they couldn’t be taken to hospital when the road was blocked for more than a month. The landslide that blocked the highway was caused by excavator activity on the feeder road above it.Centre for Investigative Journalism<h2>DEADLY TOLL</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef339c7e80680e035967jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1300" height="975">May 8: Sub-engineer Narayan Dahal died in a landslide at the Chainpur-Taklakot road section in Ramaili.May 6: Five people, including four of the same family, were killed by a flood in the Guhe River in Thalara village. Livestock was killed. Five houses were swept away and the Juilgad hydropower plant was put out of action.May 2: Three people were killed when a flashflood swept away their jeep on the Chauthiya river. Over 152 hectares of farms were destroyed, more than 50 livestock were killed.April 27: Floods caused by road building inundated 130 hectares of land and destroyed crops in Sabik village. Farmers lost Rs300 million worth of standing crops.<h2>Duplication road</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121140/6368ef369c7e80680e035968jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2198" height="1280">It is not just local governments that are on a nationwide road construction spree. The NCP government announced it had set aside Rs 4.5 billion for the so-called Madan Bhandari Highway in its last budget. The new highway will span 1.200 km from Jhapa in the east to Dadeldhura in the west, cross 14 districts – most them in the ecologically fragile Chure Range and the Inner Tarai (depicted on map above).The announcement caught many by surprise because it was made without conducting an Environmental Impact Assessment or a Detailed Project Report. Moreover, there has been no satisfactory explanation as to why there was a need for another east-west highway when there is already the Mahendra Highway, the Mid-hill Highway and the Tarai Feeder Road project.When asked, spokesperson Rajendra Sharma of the Ministry of Physical Planning and Transportation said parts of the new highway were already in existence, and the Madan Bhandrai Highway would just connect the missing bits. He also said the region served by the road was rich in limestone deposits, and would serve existing and future cement factories.“In fact, you could call this a cement highway,” Sharma told us.However, Dhananjaya Poudel of the Ministry of Environment expressed surprise that his ministry was never consulted about the highway, and that budget was allocated without studying its environmental impact and economic feasibility.He added: “You have to take into account the geography, geology, vegetation, environment, and the impact on human settlements before undertaking a project like this. Only then can you minimise the damage.”Kalpana BhattaraiRead also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Elected contractors</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/trickledown-corruption,4176" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Trickle down corruption</a>, Editorial <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bulldozing democracy</a>, Om Astha Rai

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From nowhere to nowhere

We often see ourselves reflected in the other. For someone who grew up in Kathmandu Valley in the eighties and nineties, this maxim comes alive with an even greater force. Nepal’s media ecosystem was dismal, the school curriculum was narrow and did not provide opportunities for creative expression. Perhaps that is why I became obsessed with MTV videos and Bollywood films. I saw my developing self reflected in these story-lines and razzmatazz. When the media and education system do not engage the public and reflect myriad interests, aspirations and lifestyles of the population, citizens get detached and disconnected from their roots. I left for America for further studies, and was somewhat determined to never return to Nepal. It was a country full of potholes and black-outs. But foreigners have been fascinated with our country for decades. In the early 19th century, Francis Buchanan-Hamilton led a pioneering expedition and documented more than a thousand species of plants native to the region. Almost a century later, in 1905, Frenchman Sylvan Levi published ‘the first attempt to produce a comprehensive study of Nepal’, drawing on not just indigenous but available Chinese and European sources as well. After Nepal opened up in the 1950s, different kinds of foreigners have traveled here -- most notably, cold-war era spies disguised as diplomats, and later came the hippies. I returned to Nepal in 2013 and was primarily struck by two major demographics - the artists and the expats. Energised by the recent revolution, the creatives were making vibrant, powerful works. The expats, on the other hand, demonstrated a different way to navigate life in Kathmandu Valley. These two groups of people re-introduced Nepal to me and I began seeing my country and my hometown with a renewed perspective. Which is why one particular image from Giovanna Caruso’s ongoing show at the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank">Kalā</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank"> Salon</a> curated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/facades-and-flowers-from-nepal-to-italy" target="_blank">Sophia L Pandé</a> instantly caught my attention -- rather, it called out to me, as if it was composed for me, framing a key moment from my own life. Its title is, coincidentally, 2013. Like most of her other works, the pen-and-ink drawing is punctuated by an explosion of watercolour: a woman standing confidently in front of a Newa-style house, a leg arched up, as if she is fixing a strap around an ankle before stepping out on an adventure. The watercolour depicts a rainbow streaming out of a pot through a second-floor window. The rest of the details are rendered in realism – clusters of garlic and onion hanging to dry from the rafters, and further down a stack of corn. There are towels drying, even an old water pump.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="art review Kala Salon"> </figure>  When I walked over to this artwork with Caruso, she chuckled, “Ah, this work is a celebration of my 30 years in Nepal.” It was while trying to calm a restless group of students during her teaching days in Italy that Caruso first came across an iconic image of Kathmandu Darbar Square. She had found an old box of slides and while projecting images from the Himalaya to engage her students, the artist was determined to travel to Nepal. The first flat she rented was close to the square and the view from her rooftop was the same as the one she had encountered inside her classroom. She has been traveling to Nepal every year since. Some of her favourite drawings depict Khokana in morning fog. From 1993-2006, she drew murals at Ram Mandir and Pashupatinath, asking sadhus to guide her and correct her depictions. Caruso received a classical education, which means she was trained to focus on perspective and geometry while capturing mainly portraits and still lives. She is influenced by M C Escher and his explorations of mathematics and symmetry. No wonder she finds the Darbar Square architecture so compelling. She also names as inspiration Gustave Dore, whose style is different from Escher’s and I can see how she has fused these influences in her body of work: Escher’s austerity complimented and slightly dislodged by Dore’s comics and caricatures. “Before starting, the painting needs to be complete in my mind,” she explains as we pass a series of portraits titled Saraswati, Lakshmi, Kali Dancing, and Durga dominated by a roaring tiger. “These are all real people, I ask my friends and family members to sit for me.” The Kali in the drawing has the artist’s fiery copper red hair and she is dancing, surrounded by various men with flowing hair. The artist seems to have experimented here, drawing the revelers from above, and indulging in playful abandon. Depictions of Nepal are often in danger of being exoticised. But Caruso is familiar with her subjects, knows our alleys and temples intimately. Her colours and compositions are passionate and dense. In an essay, Anirudh S Chari writes the artist’s work is splashed with rapturous energy and most drawings have a carnivalesque element. ‘Kali Dancing’ illustrates this idea perfectly in that she has turned Kali’s usual fearsome portrayal on its head by depicting and embracing another feminine principle - the capacity to celebrate and create joy. Apart from drawing inspiration from Hindu goddesses and Nepal’s multi-colored rituals, Caruso has also drawn the Sumerian Ianna and Lillith and the Egyptian Nut. She enjoys drawing Nataraja, and says it is because “Shiva is a good husband”. We stand another painting titled 100 Days a Lion. “There is a saying in Italian, Better one day as a lion than a hundred days as a sheep, but I thought why not 100 Days a Lion?” This sentiment captures this nomadic artist’s spirit spanning four decades, in which she has captured urban energy as well as the sacred imagery of ‘life diaries on canvas’. From Venezia to Kathmandu and Journeys In Between Giovanna Caruso The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre Mall, Thamel Till 12 December 10am- 8pm

Looking at Nepal from Venice

The COP30 climate summit in Brazil ended this week <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cop30-to-cop31">without tangible commitment</a> from countries to reduce fossil fuel emissions. Its impact will be felt halfway around the planet here in Mustang which is already seeing weather extremes.&nbsp; Geographically, Mustang is on the Tibetan Plateau, north of the main Himalayan chain. It is in the rainshadow, and a high altitude desert. Winter snow has failed for eight of the past ten years, unseasonal blizzards, and frequent glacial collapse leading to floods. The Kali Gandaki Corridor follows one of the deepest gorges in the world between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, the world’s seventh and tenth highest peaks. Lush pine forests cover the southern flanks of these mountains, but within a few kilometers the vegetation undergoes a dramatic change to a landscape of red, brown and grey cliffs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It gets more arid the more north you go. Snow and rain in Upper Mustang used to fall mostly in winter, but now there are cloudbursts and blizzards at other times of the year.&nbsp; In the ancient walled city of Lo Manthang, elderly men have gathered at a local tea shop to drink the salted butter tea. Some sip home-made liquor infused with medicinal herbs.&nbsp; The sun has set, the temperature plummets, and the wind howls outside. Everyone agrees it does not snow like it used to any more. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Comings and goings in Mustang</a>, Shrijan Pandey  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The flat mud roofs are leaking because rain is now falling where there used to be snow.</figcaption> </figure>  “The weather has changed drastically over the years,” says Lopsang Tsomfel Bista, Chair of the Lo Dekhar Municipality. “It doesn’t snow in winter, and it falls when it is not supposed to.”&nbsp; Lack of snow means that in spring, the pastures where nomadic herders graze their yaks and goats do not have enough grass. Previously, winter snow on the meadows would seep slowly into the soil with the spring thaw, bringing out fresh grass shoots. &nbsp; In recent years, even if there is winter precipitation, it falls as rain. The soil is not able to soak in rain as efficiently, and torrential downpours increase the risk of soil erosion and floods.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  “There used to be up to 1,500 mountain goats in every village, but now they have stopped keeping livestock,” says Bista. This is due to lack of grass and new lowland diseases moving up the mountains. Mustang has lost 28% of its population between the census in 2011 and 2021, and outmigration also means there are fewer people left to carry on a pastoral lifestyle.&nbsp; “Herders have asked for vet services in their communities because there are new insect-borne diseases,” says Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Winds of change sweep Mustang</a>, Jagannath Adhikari  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The mud walls of monasteries and homes are crumbling because of unseasonal rainfall. </figcaption> </figure>  Mustang is flanked to the east and west by mountains that rise up to 6,000m, and glaciers on their slopes are melting fast, turning into lakes. With the rising temperature, the risk of Glacier Lakes Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has also risen.&nbsp; At the rate global average temperatures are rising, scientists say that the Himalaya will lose up to two-thirds of the remaining ice caps. When glaciers melt, it not just raises the risk from GLOFs but also affects water supply downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1022" height="767" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map NT"> </figure>  FLOODS Ringzin Sangbo Gurung in Chumjung village recalls the devastation caused by a GLOF on 8 July this year that swept away a newly inaugurated bridge. The floodplain is now strewn with boulders and sand brought down by the flood which caused damage worth Rs28 million. The flood also damaged the irrigation canals that feed riverside farms where locals grew potato, buckwheat, millet and spinach. Nyima Wangmo Gurung runs a homestay in Nyamdok village, and says: “We don’t have water when we need it. And there is too much when we don’t need it.”&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  With warming temperatures, farmers in Mustang are growing lowland vegetables which was not possible before in plastic greenhouses. The farms depended on snowmelt in spring to irrigate their fields, but there is less snow to melt in past years. “The last heavy snowfall in winter was about eight years ago, since then we have got little or no snow,” says Tashi Norbu Gurung, Chair of Lo Manthang Rural Municipality. “This affects farmers during the April planting season.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It is not just lack of snowfall that is a problem. Springs have gone dry, and some villages like Dhey have been forced to relocate because life became &nbsp;impossible without water.&nbsp; Villagers of Samjung also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-migration-is-already-happening">migrated</a> to Namashung, near a river when water sources dried up. But now the new settlements are threatened by GLOFs. Karma Gurung, who runs a lodge in Choser, remembers the big flood of 35 years ago which swept away farms and covered them with debris. There have been more frequent, but destructive floods since then in Kagbeni, Lubra and other valleys. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  MUD WALLS Because snowfall has been replaced by rain, Mustang’s traditional mud-wall architecture is now in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">danger of collapsing</a>. The homes here are closely packed, have flat roofs stacked with juniper branches for firewood. With rain in place of snow, the roofs now leak.&nbsp; Women in Thinkar village say their walls are falling apart. Some homes have collapsed, and families forced to move out. Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation says locals need plastic sheets, cement walls and corrugated roofs to cope with the rain.&nbsp; But this would mean that Mustang’s villages would lose their traditional architecture style.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The ancient 1.5m thick mud walls around Lo Manthang built 600 years ago, the king’s palace, and monasteries are also at risk. “Changes in precipitation patterns, altering the intensity, frequency, and timing of rainfall and snowfall, have damaged traditional and cultural infrastructure, particularly mud-built private and public buildings as well as religious and heritage sites,” explains Bhawani Pandey at the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. “With the rain, and because the monuments and stupas are made from mud, they have eroded. There is leakage, and the monuments are in a dilapidated condition.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure/" target="_blank">Climate-smarter Himalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The Lo Manthang Rural Municipality along with Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, are working on a Local Adaptation Plan of Action and the Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan, which the Nepal government has made mandatory for every municipality. “We took a bottom-up approach and collected data from each village, they know best the impact of climate change and what their needs are,” says Yangchen Gurung. To address the hazards of climate change, local communities and municipalities are adapting through their own resources, without waiting for outside help to improve water conservation, control soil erosion and protect from flood.&nbsp; Says Pandey, “We are returning to conserving traditional drought-resistant crop varieties, organic pest and disease control, cultivating high-value crops and fruits, and practicing sustainable pasture management through rotational grazing. We have also developed new building codes for homes that incorporate water-resistant coating for mud roofs and walls.” &nbsp; Additional Reporting by Tashi Wangyal. &nbsp;

Too little snow, too much rain

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

A new normal

It is quite a feat for just two actors on a darkened stage to hold an audience spellbound for more than one hour. Yet, ‘के? Us.’ at Kausi Theatre does just that. It is a thought-provoking but baffling work that leaves the audience questioning reality, the recurring metaphors in this intriguing and powerful dark comedy haunting us for days afterwards.&nbsp; The unsettling sound of deep breathing mingles with percussive drumming and a driving guitar that pulsates amidst a red glow, dimly illuminating shadowy structures charred by fire. A door leads to what is later revealed to be the ancestral home of two brothers which is ‘under renovation’. One of the brothers Ashim (Bijaya Tamrakar) lives in Nepal caring for a supposedly comatose mother who is only depicted by a tree draped with red LED lights that circulate arterial blood corpuscles. Visiting him is a long-lost brother Aaryan (Eelum Dixit) who has returned (deported?) from America.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The stage is littered with scattered paper trash, a run-down motorcycle chassis, a tattered sofa, and beat-up table and chairs. The stage is set for a sinister plot. Are the characters to be punished in perdition?&nbsp; It does not take long for the audience to grasp that this is an apocalyptic Nepal that, following absurdist traditions, could exist at any time in the future or the present day <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">post-GenZ protest state</a>. Ashim and Aaryan Adhikari have reunited after 15 years. Ashim, the younger brother, has been burdened with the responsibility of taking care of their brain-dead mother. Aaryan, returns after having migrated to the US, where he married, had children, divorced, and lost everything. He has been at “minus 20 and is now back to zero”.&nbsp; The brothers have intense back-and-forths that expose their cynicism, the conversation tangentially alluding to Nepal’s unstable political landscape, migration, an economy in shambles, aging population, alcoholism and other mental health issues. Even the sibling argument about the relative merits of momos and burgers seems metaphorical. The stagecraft uses lighting and sound effects brilliantly, transporting the audience to a surreal world in which Tamrakar and Dixit improvise their lines — no two shows are exactly the same, although the overall plotline has continuity.&nbsp; In the first scene, Aaryan approaches the house tentatively, creeping rodent-like, and carrying a briefcase and an old-fashioned lantern. And at the end, Ashim screams, “I am chaos.” Is this the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end?&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Choas play review"> </figure>  At one point Aaryan seems perturbed by the sound of protest outside (the Gen Z movement?) and the taut atmosphere grips the audience with fear, shock, and apprehension of the recent death and destruction.&nbsp; Throughout the play there is the sound of breathing, as if through a ventilator, a thumping heartbeat, the morbid buzzing of flies and the glowing red LED veins -- signifying the presence of the comatose Aama. She is featured in a prologue-esque home video at the start of the play in which she reminisces about her two sons and rues her failing memory.&nbsp; The sound of breathing gets accentuated each time a brother gets closer to the tree, and it seems to fuel Ashim’s belief that Aama may be brain-dead but she is still among them. This play can go as deep as each individual in the audience wants it to go.&nbsp; The silenced, comatose mother could be Nepali Aama muted by an entrenched patriarchy. Or, she could be the symbol of a helpless country while her children fight over the ruins of what is left. The cake cutting is a delightfully Shakespearean subplot where we wonder if one of the brothers is going to poison, or knife, the other. The message is clear: how can we move forward if it is brother against brother? The stairs signify political transition (elections, constitutional change, new coalitions) promising upward movement, but eventually lead to falls, leaving the nation exactly where it started, or worse. The mother’s terminal illness evokes an ailing state apparatus, hollowed out by corruption and deep-seated social decay. Yet the brothers cling to an irrational hope — instead of confronting the harsh truth and pursuing radical solutions, suggesting a blind faith in the mother.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The brothers are lost. Aaryan climbs up stairs that lead nowhere, Ashim holds on to unrealistic hope that somehow Aama will get better. Tamrakar and Dixit deliver powerful performances, even more remarkable for the fact that they are improvising their lines as they go along. When Aaryan breaks a wall and directly addresses the audience, spectators turn from being passive observers to active participants (‘the society’). The audience then become oglers in this drama, suddenly made self-aware of our role as the scrutinising, cavilling voyeurs that society represents. There is some discomfort of being watched and judged.&nbsp; By asking his brother what he is afraid of while pointing at the audience, Aaryan suggests that the brother's (and perhaps the character's core) fear is not just of the house, or the mother's illness, but of external judgment and societal censure. After the stage goes dark, the applause takes some time. Audience members shuffle out in silence, minds reeling from the collective soul-searching they have just participated in.&nbsp; After ‘के? Us.’ the din at Teku intersection outside sounds different as we wait for our Pathao ride below the खरी tree where <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Shukra+Raj+Shastri&amp;client=safari&amp;sca_esv=75e8315709cd5118&amp;rls=en&amp;sxsrf=AE3TifMJhwukjdBBT0n4QcQWe8IYSaEVsw%3A1764648053799&amp;ei=dWQuaYbIMOy94-EPn4ygyAE&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiU1ciogp6RAxXq3TQHHeo9LBIQgK4QegQIARAB&amp;uact=5&amp;oq=nepal+tree+where+martyrs+were+hanged&amp;gs_lp=Egxnd3Mtd2l6LXNlcnAiJG5lcGFsIHRyZWUgd2hlcmUgbWFydHlycyB3ZXJlIGhhbmdlZDIIECEYoAEYwwRIug5QAFiNC3AAeAGQAQCYAc4BoAHrCKoBBTAuNS4xuAEDyAEA-AEBmAIDoALlBMICBRAAGO8FmAMA4gMFEgExIECSBwUwLjEuMqAHzw-yBwUwLjEuMrgH5QTCBwcwLjIuMC4xyAcM&amp;sclient=gws-wiz-serp&amp;mstk=AUtExfCLIneLVW3SFBzxBc964wFcTJ936tcAPSDcvNKljck0PIqDJddMZ_t8Pg610M98MCx14aNdnyLHs9QM0jWLhI7JYmkPhugX1ZHfSQvdCHZE9E5m2_ZQY5Jr893UcGjQfpabtA_C48NfB9Pg56uYMOmTtEBEcGuvz3d96Qaifyb86sI8mAkrRNo_367cv_xmFjLZ55iQkfHtORuOvZSUkIdMvAdpweuf4jPjjI4anbv9lc-uCImdP0JSvtvEGL8ePxwsWWOzYpIbjNP1zofjcWXK&amp;csui=3" target="_blank">Shukra Raj Shastri</a> was hanged in 1941 by the Rana regime. Language and Literature Students, 2026.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  ‘के? Us.’ Kausi Theatre, Teku Till 7 December (except 2 December) Bookings: +977 9842156109, 9842574607

dozers

Dozers and Nepal’s development

From nowhere to nowhere

Looking at Nepal from Venice

Too little snow, too much rain

A new normal

Staged chaos evokes state of Nepal