The mountains of western Nepal have always been food deficit because of the lack of irrigation. Farmers migrated to the plains, where farming has been easier. But a searing heatwave this year accompanied by a delayed monsoon has led to a water crisis that threatens to undermine Nepal’s gains in achieving the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDG). The climate crisis is a water crisis, and it has hit food production, nutrition and the availability of safe drinking water.&nbsp; Not everything can be blamed on climate breakdown. Wells that used to be the last resort for rice planting, for example, have gone dry because of a falling water table. In the highway town of Attariyia, there used to be five deep tubewells that supplied 4 million litres of water each day to the city’s 5,500 households. In the last three years, all but one of them has dried up. The municipality then drilled four more 80m deep wells, but even these have water only for six months in a year.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100656_5bddc97ff2727a37fbc7840675384f93678a8eeeb21136bda739f3e1af801bb9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240630100656_5bddc97ff2727a37fbc7840675384f93678a8eeeb21136bda739f3e1af801bb9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1949" height="1299" loading="lazy" alt="water crisis in Tarai Nepal"> <figcaption>Towns in Tarai are parched for drinking water, there is no water for irrigation. They have to dig deeper for water and even then, new borewells have dried up. Photos: UNNATI CHAUDHARI</figcaption> </figure>  In the city of Dhangadi with a population of 300,000 on the Indian border, the municipality dug three deep wells after household wells went dry. This summer, even the tubewells ran out of water. The situation is similar in other nearby border towns. Experts say the reason for the falling water levels in the acquifers has more to do with over-extraction of groundwater both in Nepal and neighbouring India, where farmers get subsidised electricity for irrigation pumps. The area’s industries and farms also have their own wells that have tapped into what used to be a plentiful groundwater supply. “The water begins to dry out after the end of winter,” says Phulram Chaudhary of the nearby town of Krishnapur. “And till the monsoon arrives in June there is no water at all.” Indeed, towns and cities desperate for water are drilling ever deeper for precious water, using up a diminishing supply in the groundwater. Milanpur town dug a 90m deep borewell, but it ran out within ten days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024063011064_8a3fd7f3f9daa81d3e7dabe15e6b56d5000351e2ba040797a77cfb8e82903307.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024063011064_8a3fd7f3f9daa81d3e7dabe15e6b56d5000351e2ba040797a77cfb8e82903307" data-rendition-name="original" width="6960" height="4640" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in tarai Nepal"> <figcaption>Over-extraction of ground water both in Nepal and neighbouring India is causing water lavels to fall in the Tarai. </figcaption> </figure>  The over-exploitation of ground water by an expanding populating and growing household and agricultural use has magnified the impact of climate breakdown which has led to chronic winter drought, heatwaves and erratic monsoons in western Nepal. “Ten years ago, it was enough to drill 20 metres to get water all year round, now it is no water even at 80 metres,” says Kalidevi Chaudhary, a farmer in the village of Kailari. She adds: “There is no water for drinking. Don’t even ask me about irrigation.” Water expert and professor at Tribhuvan University’s Central Department of Environmental Science Sudeep Thakuri says research has shown that the groundwater table across the Tarai has dropped mainly because of over-extraction, denudation in the catchment areas of the Chure, sand mining in the rivers, as well as climate change. “We have disturbed the water cycle, and the climate crisis has made the problem more acute with long droughts and uncertain monsoons,” Thakuri says. “This means there is not enough recharge of groundwater.” The distance between borewells and tube wells has also decreased as Tarai settlements grow and water demand increases. Indeed, 140 boreholes have been dug in Kailali and Kanchanpur, out of which only 91 still have water.&nbsp; Additionally, water has also been extracted through 1,001 deep tube wells in these two districts, according to the Groundwater Resources and Irrigation Development Division offices there.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024063011064_dc58f42acd2c79ead04f8175b24deb04a3c05244f8b6929e4dd42fd1d2d679ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024063011064_dc58f42acd2c79ead04f8175b24deb04a3c05244f8b6929e4dd42fd1d2d679ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="6960" height="4640" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in tarai Nepal"> <figcaption>Tarai’s groundwater is being used as a bargaining chip by elected officials, who have drilled arbitrarily to appease voters.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s provincial and local governments have invested heavily in subsidising drilling for groundwater, as per the federal policy of maximum utilisation of groundwater with a budget to drill 100 borewells.&nbsp; Tara Dutta Joshi, head of the Mahakali Irrigation Project in Kanchanpur says that although the aim was to use the groundwater extracted from these projects for the next 20 years, six of the 90 boreholes have already dried up.&nbsp; While tube wells pump up water from up to 40m feet below ground, there is no water to be found at this depth anymore in most of the western Tarai. Meanwhile, boreholes require drilling up to 110m, and artesian water is extracted between 110-400m below.&nbsp; Experts say the Tarai’s groundwater is being used as a bargaining chip by elected officials, who have drilled arbitrarily to appease voters. There is a lack of research as well as policy regarding how many boreholes can be drilled in a given area, and how much water can be extracted.&nbsp; Sankar Dutta Awasthi of Kailari village says federal decentralisation led to competition among local politicians to see who could supply more water to their electorates. Indeed, 1,200 small-scale groundwater projects have been constructed in this municipality since the formation of the local government in 2017 in addition to larger-scale projects carried out by the provincial and federal governments. “Elected officials are far more concerned about how to repeatedly ensure groundwater projects in their constituency than about how this uncontrolled extraction is going to affect the region in the future,” says Awasthi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024063011064_9da4708137cda6375aaf5953f857b643fe85d223b8d8fb2fcf81e66198f53377.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024063011064_9da4708137cda6375aaf5953f857b643fe85d223b8d8fb2fcf81e66198f53377" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in tarai Nepal"> <figcaption>One tubewell used to be enough to sustain a village some decades ago, while today even three tubewells in one household in not enough to fulfil basic water needs.</figcaption> </figure>  One of the bores drilled in Kailari was for Ramesh Chaudhary four years ago for irrigation, but the water dried up within two years before a canal could be completed. Nearby in the village of Rampur, a 200m deep borewell drilled for irrigation also went dry.&nbsp; “The water never even reached any farmer’s field, what a waste of Rs10 million,” says Chaudhary. Water expert Tarka Raj Joshi notes that one tubewell should be enough to sustain a village some decades ago, while today even three tubewells in one household in not enough to fulfil basic water needs.&nbsp; “The local, provincial, and federal governments’ water distribution schemes will have a major impact on groundwater levels in the Tarai,” says Joshi. “No one is thinking about what this crisis means for the future.” The shortage of water threatens to undermine Nepal’s gains in reducing infant and child mortality as targeted in the SDG because children are forced to drink contaminated water. Their nutrition is also affected as food production is reduced because of lack of irrigation water. All this feeds into the outmigration trend. The answer is to allow ground recharge through regeneration of trees in the Chure, zoning to regulate rampant urbanisation, a tax on extraction of deep groundwater, and channeling water from the Karnali and Mahakali rivers to augment supply so there is less reliance on acquifers. <h2>Water shortage drives Surkhet villagers out</h2> ----  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024063011060_7ce1243b2fe49f183bd338cc25af8347c1602badcdf112fcb53b03db9b116078.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024063011060_7ce1243b2fe49f183bd338cc25af8347c1602badcdf112fcb53b03db9b116078" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="976" loading="lazy" alt="water crisis in Tarai Nepal"> <figcaption>Rekcha residents marched to the municipality office with pitchers in their staw basket to demonstate their desperation for water. Photos: LAXMI BHANDARI</figcaption> </figure>  The delay in the onset of the monsoon rains in June meant that the village of Rekcha had a severe shortage of water.&nbsp; Residents started their day as usual, placing pitchers in their straw baskets by the community taps. But instead of heading to the wells to fetch water, they marched to the municipality office to demonstrate. The village’s Water Supply Struggle Committee was led by Ward member Tapendra Chhetri who had to resort to a sit-in outside the municipality out of desperation for water. Rekcha used to be an ideal place for settlers because of its fertile soil and plentiful water. Even though the 11 wells in the village produced enough water to sustain its families for decades, they have now all dried up.&nbsp; “Villagers now collect what little water is left on the bottom of the wells, using cloth for filtration,” says ward member Chhetri. “This village is dying of thirst.”&nbsp; The extreme water shortage has begun to drive residents out. Until five years ago, Rekcha village had 115 households, but 35 families have migrated elsewhere since. Khagisara Shahi was one of the villagers who walked with her water pitcher to the rural municipality headquarters. Like the rest of her neighbours she is finding it increasingly difficult to survive in Rekcha.&nbsp; “Our pleas fell on deaf ears, so we walked all the way here with our pitchers to make the leadership aware of our plight,” says Shahi. “We make do at other times, but it is impossible to live without water, especially when it is getting hotter.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024063011060_689983a311f320cec4427b7f0496cf9b4f6ff5dae0840bfec6b254d8c19abfac.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024063011060_689983a311f320cec4427b7f0496cf9b4f6ff5dae0840bfec6b254d8c19abfac" data-rendition-name="original" width="1203" height="679" loading="lazy" alt="water crisis in Tarai Nepal"> <figcaption>Now that wells have dried up in Rekcha, the journey to other sources of water is even longer, and the drudgery falls on women.</figcaption> </figure>  Even when the village’s wells had water, it used to take hours of standing in queue for each household to collect water from their homes. Now that the wells have dried up, the journey to other sources of water is even longer, and the drudgery falls on women. “There is not enough time in the day to do all the housework, look after the farm and livestock, and fetch water,” says Shahi. Four years ago, the rural municipality made plans to bring water up to the village from the Karnali river, for which they allocated a budget of Rs17.2 million. However, the project fell through due to difficulties with road access.&nbsp; Chaukune Rural Municipality Chair Khadka BK says that local government resources alone will not be enough to provide drinking water to Rekcha. “The remoteness of the village means we need federal and provincial support.” Meanwhile, the villagers look down on the clear blue water of the snowfed Karnali River below, while their fields are parched and their children are complaining of thirst. Laxmi Bhandari This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG logo"> </figure>

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Climate breakdown magnifies western Nepal’s woes

Rainfall data from eastern Nepal collected over the past 70 years point to a strong <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-waste-land">correlation between chronic drought and outmigration</a>. Repeated and more frequent monsoon failures forced more and more people to abandon villages.&nbsp; Terathum, Dhankuta, Panchthar and Taplejung districts lost more than 40% of their population between 2001 and 2021. Archival data of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology shows that rainfall was below the annual national average for almost every year since the 1960s in what is supposed to be the wettest part of the country.&nbsp; In Panchakanya village of Terathum 40% of residents left in those 20 years. A nearby village, Thoklung, lost 42% of its population. Across the Tamor River, 44% of the people left the village of Kurule. A third of the inhabitants of Symbarumba in Panchthar left for the plains or cities.&nbsp; “People are still leaving. Those who have not migrated are also thinking about going down to Dharan or Damak,” says Chathar Ward 4 Chair Pushpa Karki, who says there were 2,500 votes cast in this ward in 2017 and in the 2022 local election there were only 1,125 ballots.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-climate-crisis-is-a-water-crisis-in-the-himalaya">The climate crisis is a water crisis in the Himalaya</a>, Sonia Awale To be sure, there are other factors behind this exodus which is happening right across Nepal’s mountains, such as a dearth of well-paying jobs, poor health care, and few opportunities for higher education. But the main reason is that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/high-and-dry">droughts</a> destroy crops.&nbsp; “There was a severe drought in the summer of 2018, the maize plants dried in their stalks and turned to straw,” remembers Tara Kharel Dhakal, Deputy Mayor of Chathar in Terathum. “People ran out of food and were desperate. We declared an emergency.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020432_abeec2acd7e0b1986c5a101109365ea57f70e81925fb522a5e2edf191eefbd98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240406020432_abeec2acd7e0b1986c5a101109365ea57f70e81925fb522a5e2edf191eefbd98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> <figcaption>HIGH AND DRY, LOW AND WET: Parched fields above the Tamor River in Panchakanya village in eastern Nepal in March (above) and irrigated bamboo-fringed terrace farms in Taplejung.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020432_d56cdd7be3761fac279a5add402d766cceef89bf1a535066acd30576e81b8613.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240406020432_d56cdd7be3761fac279a5add402d766cceef89bf1a535066acd30576e81b8613" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> </figure>  Rainfall data for Terathum in 2018 corroborates that there was almost no rain in winter, and to make things worse, the district only saw half of its usual rain that monsoon.&nbsp; The rainfall gauges are located near the tops of mountains, where there is usually more precipitation. So the slopes below likely got even less rain than was recorded.&nbsp; Farmers had no irrigation systems to fall back on. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465#google_vignette">Springs are rare and have gone dry,</a> and the Tamor River is too far down the mountain.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020444_9d23945324a19dfcecf26cafe19a9ac9cc4a11abfde5bde9e4bbbea9c64ca916.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240406020444_9d23945324a19dfcecf26cafe19a9ac9cc4a11abfde5bde9e4bbbea9c64ca916" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> <figcaption>BROWN AND GREEN: Constrasting colours of fields in Terathum between those without irrigation (foreground, above), and with irrigation from a side stream. The glacier-fed Tamor River has plenty of water in the dry season (below) but it is too far down to be pumped up the mountain.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020444_d31629e168b47eb330543f3f3ac992778bccea52fe32446a776580194b143214.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240406020444_d31629e168b47eb330543f3f3ac992778bccea52fe32446a776580194b143214" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1018" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> </figure>  Prevailing wisdom suggests that Nepal is drier the more west you go, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/how-the-climate-crisis-adds-to-child-marriage-in-nepal">the Karnali and Sudur Paschim regions are most drought prone</a>. Outmigration due to water scarcity in Mustang district has emptied villages. But it looks like the climate crisis is causing dry spells even in the usually wet mountains of eastern Nepal.&nbsp; Only a quarter of arable land in Nepal is irrigated, and most of that is in the Tarai. Subsistence farmers in the mountains depend on rain-fed agriculture, so when it does not rain their only option is to migrate for work. Rainfall data from measuring stations over the past 50 years or more across the eastern mountains shows that winter rain and monsoon failures have become more frequent.&nbsp; y nly 80% of the normal annual rain fell in 2018 in Mulghat, and the corn and buckwheat harvests were reduced in nearby Kurule. The local government gave cash handouts to farmers, but this did not convince people to stay. <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="Tamor river discharge at Mulghat" aria-label="Interactive line chart" id="datawrapper-chart-8t8ts" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/8t8ts/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="396" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div> In an average year, Jhapa and Ilam in the east get about 3,300mm of rain. Kathmandu Valley sees about 1,400mm, and Darchula in the far-west receives 700mm. The least precipitation is in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya">Dolpo in the trans-Himalayan rainshadow</a>, although even these districts have seen some freak rainfall of late.&nbsp; Even though the total annual precipitation may still be the same, often the quality of rain is different: there are damaging torrential downpours and then weeks of no rain at all.&nbsp; Watershed expert Madhukar Upadhya describes eastern Nepal’s micro-climates, where wide variations exist even within small geographical areas: “The clouds tend to drop most of their moisture on the southern slopes of the Mahabharat Range, so there is less rain on the other side.”&nbsp; Dharan, for instance, gets 1,700mm of rain, but 15km to the north in Mulghat, the annual precipitation is half that.&nbsp; Elderly farmers can recite from memory the years in which rains have failed: 1961, 1965, 1972, 1975, 1982, 1994. Their recollections tally with archival precipitation data for the region. For example, there was a downpour that dumped 385mm of rain on 23-24 June 1961, but for the next two months there was only 180mm. “I was young in 1961 and there was always either too much rain or too little, the fields were fallow and we had no food,” remembers Dikura Devi Thapaliya in Terathum. “Only those who had springs and could irrigate their fields had harvests that year.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/first-drought-then-downpour">First drought, then downpour</a>, Smita Magar Four years later, there was another drought that caused a famine, forcing families to forage for wild roots. In Iwa, the town council asked households that had extra grain to sell it to neighbours, but no one was willing. The villagers did not have food for the 10-day trek down to Dharan to collect government rations, so food was air dropped by the state.&nbsp; Even worse was the nationwide drought of 1972, when the British Royal Air Force helped Nepal with Hercules aircraft to drop grain by parachute in what it called Operation Khana Cascade. Some 52 tons were dropped on Taplejung and Terathum alone.&nbsp; This was the Panchayat era, and even the usually-understated government controlled news agency, RSS, filed a report from eastern Nepal about the terrible conditions: ‘The harvest of corn and buckwheat has failed in villages around Dhankuta. Rice harvests are one-third of normal. There is starvation in Terathum. Many have migrated to the Tarai or elsewhere, or are working as coolies along the Dharan-Dhankuta road.’ <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="The Rain in Dhankuta" aria-label="Interactive line chart" id="datawrapper-chart-gKSl5" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/gKSl5/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="423" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div> The next serious drought was in 1982, with Terathum getting a record low of only 254mm of rain – only 38% of normal monsoon precipitation.&nbsp; The Tamor had never been so dry before that, nor has it since. Hydrological data acquired by Nepali Times show that in September 1982 river flow was only 15% of mean for that month. Ninety percent of the maize crop in the east was destroyed, paddy wilted before it could be transplanted. The rice terraces were barren.&nbsp; Nepal’s two neighbours donated grain so that villagers would not starve. More than 2,500 farmers from Terathum made the four-day trek down to Dhankuta to collect 100kg sacks of wheat from India, or maize from China. Even the desert kingdom of Saudi Arabia donated 5,000 tons of rice and 2,500 tons of wheat.&nbsp; Not much has changed in the villages of Terathum and along the banks of the Tamor since – except that there are fewer people. Farmers who remain still depend on timely and adequate rain to keep their soil watered.&nbsp; “If the gods send rain, we get to eat. Otherwise we starve,” Naramaya Tamang in Terathum puts it simply. Her farm grows enough food to feed the family for only half the year.&nbsp; Those who have property have sold it to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/unthinkable-in-the-current-climate">move to the plains</a>. The government has stopped food aid, citing new roads and letting market forces ensure supply. However, there are many like Naramaya who have fallen through the social safety net. The other thing that has changed in these mountains is that people are migrating not just to the plains, but overseas to the Gulf or Malaysia. The villages on both sides of the Tamor River are devoid of young men, and increasingly, young women. Every family has a member abroad. It is the money they send back that helps the elderly relatives survive.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020436_9619e4536523960ebe2edf86de43c389ba054b3dd32c5752e5bcc7d9fac9d83f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20240406020436_9619e4536523960ebe2edf86de43c389ba054b3dd32c5752e5bcc7d9fac9d83f" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="713" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> </figure>  Over the last 20 years, Panchthar saw the second highest number of permits to work overseas in proportion to the district’s population. Terathum ranks third on this metric and Dhankuta is sixth. The adjoining district to the west, Khotang, is number one.&nbsp; Dhanusha in the Tarai has the highest numbers of people migrating out, but most of those workers return. Here in Dhankuta, Terathum, Panchthar and Taplejung, when young people leave, most leave for good.&nbsp; The main result of the climate breakdown is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/grain-drain">lack of water</a>. Deficient rain and springs going dry are the main reasons why farmers are migrating, explains the Chair of Ward 3 of Chaubise village, Madan Tumsa.&nbsp; He says: “These are climate migrants. The soil is too dry to farm, and there is nothing to eat. People are not leaving to earn more, up to 80% are leaving because they cannot grow food due to the lack of water.”&nbsp; Research for this three-part series was supported by the Barbara Foundation. This is the first of a three-part series in Nepali Times analysing meteorological, hydrological and demographic data from eastern Nepal, showing the impact of the climate crisis on rainfall, farming and outmigration. The second and third installments will appear on 12 and 26 April respectively.

Climate crisis → drought → food deficit → migration

The Department of Meteorology and Hydrology has declared that the southwest monsoon entered eastern Nepal promptly on schedule, and will advance over the whole country in a week. This was a relief because weather models had suggested the onset of the rains would be delayed by at least 10 days. Let us hope simulations were also wrong about deficient rainfall this monsoon. News of the arrival of the rains could not have come sooner. So far, this June has been the hottest month on record in Nepal, with half of the country’s population mostly in the plains reeling under <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/turning-on-the-heat">heat stress</a>. Wells had gone dry in parts of the Chure and Tarai, and ritual frog weddings were being performed for rain. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/it-is-getting-hotter-on-the-roof-of-the-world">It's getting hotten on the roof of the world</a>, Kunda Dixit This year’s El Niño effect should be a warning about things to come, as the ocean and atmosphere heat up globally. Here in Nepal, we must now broaden the scope of disaster planning beyond droughts, floods and landslides to lethal <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/north-indian-heat-wave-hits-nepal">‘wet bulb’</a> combinations of temperature and humidity. In the next decades, unliveable heat waves in the plains could force mass <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/unthinkable-in-the-current-climate">migration of people to northern latitudes and higher altitudes</a>. For Nepal, this could mean a future reversal of population movement back from the plains to the mountains. But Nepal’s rulers cannot pass all the blame for chronic food insecurity on climate breakdown. The Karnali is food deficit because of decades of state neglect, and climate change-induced drought just puts farmers under added pressure. Crop failure due to lack of irrigation and agricultural input in turn will worsen malnutrition among children, and increase the push factor for outmigration of men. Not all disasters are sudden, Nepal must also prepare for slow-motion calamities like these. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tara-pariyar-s-karnali">Our coverage from Jumla</a> and Kalikot of Karnali Province in this edition shows how investment in rural irrigation can transform the lives of farmers, making them more resilient to face extreme weather. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water">climate crisis is a water crisis</a>, and year-round access to water will improve food availability, raise household income, reduce drudgery for women, and allow Nepalis to adapt to climate change. It is common sense. Why didn’t we think of that before? The DHM and South Asian Climate Outlook Forum forecast normal to below-normal rainfall this year, and an increase in maximum and minimum temperatures across South Asia. Rainfall in western Nepal is expected to be 60% below normal, and 30% deficient in the rest of the country.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061414068_a58db96050cb747bbcd4bf46e1507af613ea7bf0fa4700a0a4178da2e41130cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2023061414068_a58db96050cb747bbcd4bf46e1507af613ea7bf0fa4700a0a4178da2e41130cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="3300" height="1950" loading="lazy" alt="Monsoon 2023"><figcaption>Department of Meteorology and Hydrology has projected below-average rainfall this monsoon. </figcaption></figure>  But those are averages, and we also have to be prepared for cloudbursts of the kind that triggered the deadly <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/still-chasing-the-melamchi-mirage">Melamchi flood on 15 June 2021</a>. Robust early warning systems and real-time localised information systems are vital to save lives and infrastructure. Again, we cannot blame loss of life along settlements in flood-prone high-risk areas on the climate crisis. We cannot call them ‘natural disasters’ when the real culprit is bad planning and poor preparedness for calamities that are certain to happen. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure">Climate smarter HImalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale The rampant building spree of mega-infrastructure, primarily hydropower projects along Nepal’s major rivers, without proper Environmental Impact Assessment also spells disaster. So does <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-nation-built-on-sand">illegal extraction of riverbed products</a> along the Chure. But perhaps the most glaring example of environmental terrorism is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/don-t-just-blame-god-for-floods-and-landslides">haphazard road construction</a> triggering slope failure and disrupting water supply. There are things that are happening globally over which we have little control. The Paris Agreement to cap average global temperatures to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels by 2050 is now dead in the water. Last week, CO2 concentration in the atmosphere hit a record 422ppm, and at this rate we are looking at an increase of 2°C or more in the coming decade. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-high-places">polar regions and the ice-caps of the Alps and the Himalaya </a>are already melting at unprecedented rates. New York experienced <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-the-air-in-bhaktapur-so-bad">air quality</a> worse than Kathmandu last week as Canadian wildfires sent smoke plumes across North America. Pakistan suffered catastrophic nationwide floods last year due to heavier than usual monsoon rains and melting glaciers. For us in Nepal, there is no option but to be prepared for what we know is coming. Rescue and relief after a disaster, as is often the case, is too late. Preparations for prevention for this monsoon should have started last winter. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/political-environment">Political environment</a>, Editorial A strong environmental protection strategy requires long-term vision and commitment, it needs politicians who think beyond immediately visible populist actions to boost vote banks. As with everything else in Nepal, the answer to disaster preparedness is a smarter and more accountable government. Sonia Awale

When it rains, it pours

<figure><img width="1000" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe124a9c7e80680e0da515jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Surbir BK has to make a daily one-hour roundtrip to fetch water after springs went dry in his village in Kavre. The dry spell has forced many young villagers to migrate. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>On average, Kathmandu Valley used to get about 95mm of rain between mid-October and mid-February. This winter, there has been zero precipitation.The last rainfall in Kathmandu was a late-monsoon shower on 12 October 2022. And while there was some rain and snow in Karnali and Sudurpaschim Provinces last month, the rest of the country has remained high and dry for nearly five months.This prolonged winter drought has affected farmers in a country where 65% of agricultural land is rainfed. The wildfire season has started early. Rivers are running low, reducing hydroelectricity production by more than half.The Meteorological Forecasting Division predicts that the dry spell will continue for at least two more weeks. In that case, this winter will be the driest in decades. Previous driest winters were in 2007-8 and 2016-17, but even then there was 10-15mm of rain between December and February.Nepal’s Department of Hydrology and Meteorology had used computer modelling to predict this winter’s drought due to the Pacific Lala Nina effect, and a Polar Vortex pushing the jetstream north of the Himalaya.“We don’t like to say we told you so, but the forecasts have been accurate,” says Binod Pokhrel, meteorologist at Tribhuvan University. “The westerlies that were supposed to bring winter rain in January vanished along the way. The seasonal forecast also shows that there won't be much precipitation in the March either, this increase wildfire risk." <figure><img width="1121" height="640" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe124e9c7e80680e0da516jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal gets more than 80% of its rain during the monsoon between June-September with a generally east-west rainfall gradient, except for the region around Pokhara which receives the country’s heaviest annual rainfall of nearly 4,000mm.The drought has also worsened winter air pollution in Kathmandu. There is no rain to wash down suspended dust particles. Smoke from wildfires have  worsened the Valley’s Air Quality Index.“Winter wheat, mustard, dal, barley and vegetable crops are affected,” says Januka Pandit at the Department of Agriculture. “The lack of snowfall this year will also affect the apple and corn crops at higher elevations because of the proliferation of pests.”Springs have gone dry right across the Himalayan foothills. Villagers have to trudge longer distances to fetch water for drinking and household use. In one village in Kavre, vegetable farmers have migrated to the city or abroad because of the lack of water.“They would still be here if there was enough water for the cabbage and mustard terraces,” said Surbir BK, who was making a one hour roundtrip trek to a community spring with a water jar strapped to his back.   <img width="633" height="357" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe12519c7e80680e0da517jpeg.jpg" alt="">Hydroelectricity production has fallen by 72% compared to last year because of reduced flow on rivers. Suresh Bhattarai of the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) explains: “Most of our electricity comes from run-of-the-river plants without storage reservoirs, when the flow drops so does the power they generate.”Nepal’s total installed capacity is now 2,300MW, but currently plants are only generating 700MW when total demand is 1,700MW. NEA is managing the shortfall with 500MW of imports. Even that is not enough and NEA is rationing power to industries.There is usually more water on Himalayan rivers during the spring thaw, but since there was no snow the flow is low. NEA expects the situation to improve only when the monsoon rains arrive in June.Average temperature across the country this winter has also been higher than normal. Lack of rain and higher temperatures increases the danger of wildfires, which in turn worsens air quality.Says Binod Pokhrel: “The fire risk this year is much higher. We are already seeing wildfires that used to start in April-May.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-the-air-in-bhaktapur-so-bad/">Why is the air in Bhaktapur so bad?</a>, Sushila Budathoki

High and dry

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d122b9c7e80680e0a98c2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Young mothers with their children in Muktikot where child marriage has become more prevalent as subsistence farmers cope with a succession of droughts and floods that have destroyed harvests. All photos: SONAM LAMA</figcaption></figure>“Mulai kyai thaa bhayaanai,” murmurs Birjaman, pain and fatigue etched on his wizened face. He has just made a steep 3-hour climb from his village of Muktikot to a pharmacy carrying his semi-conscious daughter-in-law, Reti.She has post-partum haemorrhage, and has not stopped bleeding. The clinic managed to save her life, but the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">young mother</a> lost her three-month foetus. Reti was married off at 16, and at 22 already has two children.The midwife says the miscarriage was due to weakness and heavy workload during pregnancy. Reti’s husband is working in India, and she has to do all the household work, raise the children, take care of the livestock, and fetch water herself.At the pharmacy, Gopal Singh says he sees cases like this often. This is the nearest medical stop for the predominantly Dalit village of Muktikot. He says, "This is nothing new around here, we get miscarriages like this daily. Many do not make it. Young mothers are not physically mature for childbearing and couples do not use contraceptives."Marriage before age 20 is punishable by law in Nepal but it is still common. Low female literacy, poverty, discrimination and cultural norms play a role, but <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/child-marriage-in-Nepal,3863" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">child marriage</a> has become more prevalent as of late, as subsistence farmers cope with a succession of droughts and floods that have destroyed harvests.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d122f9c7e80680e0a98c3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Last winter, western Nepal suffered a 6-month drought that was followed by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/wildfires-ravage-nepal-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wildfires that raged for months</a>. Then, two weeks ago the region was hit by a freak post-monsoon storm that destroyed standing crops. Farmers had been hopeful for a good harvest because of plentiful rain this monsoon, but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/post-monsoon-rain-ruins-nepals-crops/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the unseasonal downpour</a> on 18-19 October unleashed landslides and floods and dashed their hopes.Scientists say global warming has added to the moisture content in the atmosphere, triggering <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">extreme weather</a> with erratic monsoons, frequent droughts and cloudbursts. Families in food-deficit western Nepal, already in a precarious situation, have been pushed over the edge.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12329c7e80680e0a98c4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="600"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Already stricken by poverty and caste discrimination, the impact of climate crisis means that more parents now marry off their young daughters, who in turn end up risking their lives due to early pregnancy and poor diet."My father remarried after my mother died, and he married me off at 16 saying I would have a good life after marriage," recalls Reti.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Climate crisis is a disaster in the Nepal Himalaya</a>, Sonam Choekyi LamaSubi, 16, is also from the same village. She lost her new born baby two days after home delivery three months ago. She had not had a single pre-natal check-up, was too <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-epidemic-of-hunger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">undernourished</a> to breast feed properly, and her baby eventually died of hunger.Subi herself bled for more than two weeks after the birth, and even though there were no men to carry her to the health post, she survived. She is still weak and anemic. Subi’s friend Suna is also 16 and expecting her first baby. Afraid that she may have the same complication, she walked five hours to a pharmacy to get iron tablets.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12349c7e80680e0a98c5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="994"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12389c7e80680e0a98c6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="994">Locals gathered in Muktikot. At least one member from each family is currently working in India.Suna’s mother Rauthi married her to a neighbour’s son because the family’s harvest failed after a long drought. She has seven children, all of whom have dropped out of school either to work in India, or to get married and raise their own children. The husbands of both Suna and Subi are also away in India, working to augment family income.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Women and water</a>, EditorialMost families here have at least one member working in India, and the income they send home was what helped them survive when crops failed. But many Nepalis lost their jobs during the pandemic, so even this fallback option was not there for the past two years.“Life here is tough, and getting tougher. Early marriage is the norm, since it is easier to get our daughters married, so we do not have to feed them,” says Rauthi, two of whose seven children are handicapped and cannot go to school, or work.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d123b9c7e80680e0a98c7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d123f9c7e80680e0a98c8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">Children in Muktikot have to walk across steep terrain for three hours roundtrip everyday to go to school.Nearly 40% of girls in Nepal marry before they are 18, while some 14% give birth to their first child before their 19th birthday. Moreover, children of Dalit communities are at higher risk of being <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/too-young-to-marry/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">married young</a> because of poverty, discrimination and limited access to resources.Although child marriage is less common than it used to be, it is still prevalent despite laws banning it. Now, the economic crisis due to the pandemic and the climate emergency has exacerbated the situation.This is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-curse-of-being-new-mothers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">evident in Bajura</a>, a district in Nepal with one of the worst development indicators with more than 70% of people living below the poverty line, while Nepal’s national average is 26%.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12429c7e80680e0a98c9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Frequent droughts and crop failures in recent years have further impoverished Bajura’s subsistence farmers. As it is, only 9% of the land in the mountainous district is arable, with a mere 1.42% with irrigation facility. Crop yields of barley, wheat, maize and millet harvests have dropped sharply in the past 10 years.Every year the district faces a shortage of 11,000 tonnes food grain, and a World Food Programme (WFP) bulletin classified 85% of the population being <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-pandemic-of-hunger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">food insecure</a>. Muktikot is one of the villages classified as very vulnerable to deficient nutrition.Even in years with normal harvest, food grown here is enough only to feed families for three months in year. The result is out-migration for work, malnutrition, forced child marriage, high maternal and infant mortality.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6ptI6TJqUgWith farmers so dependent on rain-fed agriculture, their fragile existence is even more precarious because of climate-related extreme weather. A 30-year precipitation data at the nearby Martadimet station shows that total annual rainfall has fallen, there is little winter snow, and even that tends to come with destructive storms.“Rainfall has always been unpredictable in these parts, but these days there is very little winter snow that we need for the spring marsi paddy and buckwheat,” says 65-year-old farmer Brija Bahadur Bam. “And when it does rain, it is so heavy that it washes away the crops.”This all adds up to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lower groundwater tables</a>, which means even perennial springs have gone dry. Indira Kandel of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology says that the rain and snow is then not enough to replenish the aquifers.The link between drought and child marriage has been proven by research in India. Reetika Revathy Subramanian, a PhD student at the University of Cambridge, has studied how drought-induced migration in the caste-ridden Marathwada region of India has increased underage marriage.“The decision for a girl to marry gets shaped by a web of intersecting factors, including poverty, access to education, social pressure and norms, harassment and intimidation, which is further exacerbated by disaster,” she explains.In Nepal’s Bajura district, too, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalits-disasters-and-discrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dalit community is more vulnerable</a> to the impact of the climate crisis on agriculture than more privileged groups. “Child marriage is rampant here but it is more likely in families hit hard by food crises and with many children,” says Birban BK of the Nepal Climate Change Support Program (NCCSP).The answer lies in making irrigation available to farmers so they are not affected by erratic rainfall, which is why the NCCSP prioritised building irrigation canals and flood-prevention gabion walls in Bajura.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12469c7e80680e0a98cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1510" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Muktikot got its name from Maoists guerrillas during the insurgency who wanted to show that the Dalit village had been liberated from caste discrimination. The war has been over for 16 years, but life is, if anything, worse for the Dalits here.Village officials and locals believe that the relocation of the entire community is the only way out. Plans are afoot for the rehabilitation of villagers to settlements up the mountains to an altitude of 2,500-3,000m where rainfall is more regular. They can grow cash crops like walnut and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-parliamentarians-apple-grove/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">apple</a>, but will be needing help accessing the market.“These practices could be diversification of livelihoods and income sources through adopting climate-resilient cash crops, connecting farmers to the markets, promoting agro-forestry and use of bioengineering for infrastructure development,” says Monika Upadhyay of WFP Nepal.Even among Dalits, it is the women from the community who are even more affected by the climate crisis. The shortage of water <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">adds to their daily drudgery</a>, because they have to walk longer to reach springs that are still functioning.Says Radha Wagle of the Climate Change Management Division at the Ministry of Environment: “In Bajura and other districts, we need climate-resilient and gender-responsive plans because women are more adversely affected by socio-economic, geographical and climatic vulnerability.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12499c7e80680e0a98cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="994"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal aims to implement these measures at local levels by 2030, the same year the government has set to end <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-child-marriages-spike-during-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">child marriage</a>. But given that the practice is still rampant, it is an ambitious target.Says Subramanian: “It is important to strengthen child marriage prevention groups, village-level committees to work closely with vulnerable families including women and girls in particular.”At nearby Radhamata Secondary School, only 13 of the 113 students in Grade 10 are unmarried. Manshova Buddha, 17, is one of them. She says: “With so many of my friends already married off by their parents, I also feel the pressure. But I am not going to give up on my dreams.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/educating-girls-for-climate-action/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Educating girls for climate action</a>, Helen GrantSome names have been changed.This report was supported by the Road to COP26 campaign implemented by the British Council and funded by UKAID.

How the climate crisis adds to child marriage in Nepal

<figure><img width="900" height="673" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08409c7e80680e0a6008jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>All photos: SMITA MAGAR</figcaption></figure>“How the dry earth must have sizzled today, kanchhi!” my sister-in-law Birmati said in delight after heavy rain finally fell in Jhumlawang village of Bhume Rural Municipality.For eight-months it had not rained here in East Rukum, destroying the wheat and barley crops and rendering surrounding forests tinder-dry. So, when the rains finally came in April, it was a welcome relief.The fires scorched the bone dry mountains this spring, shrouding the country in thick smoke for weeks. The pollution peaked in Kathmandu in March, making breathing difficult. While that was happening, up here in Jhumlawang residents were dealing with insect infestation on fodder grass, and they worried about how to manage fresh green grass for the livestock. There was looming worry about a possible famine.The residents of Jhumlawang were in their fields the day after the first rain fell, but the winter wheat crop had not fared well during the drought. The desiccated stalks was turned into cattle fodder. <img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08439c7e80680e0a6009jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08469c7e80680e0a600ajpeg.jpg" alt="">“We only got a handful of grain when there should have been many muri of wheat,” says Jokhi Kumari Thapa. “So we fed whatever was there to the cows and goats.”As the rain began to fall in earnest, villagers ploughed their fields and began planting maize.   Maize and wheat are major food crops here in the remote mountains of East Rukum. The terraces on the steep slopes are also suitable for potato, barley, mustard, hemp seed, beans, millet and various other spices that villagers farm to feed their own families. However, the yield is not enough them for the entire year. Subsistence rain-fed farming makes food availability precarious not just here, but across central and western Nepal. And this year’s winter drought meant that even fields that had good yields in previous years did not produce any harvest this year. The rain, when it finally came was relentless, and this meant that during the threshing season the farmers could not get as much grain as they would have liked. Indeed, the wheat harvesting process needs to go through multiple carefully planned stages that require considerable effort. The wheat is first harvested and its stalks dried. Then it is threshed, and the husk separated from the grain. The grain is then dried in the sun before being moved to storage. If the crops do not get enough sun during the process, there is a possibility of the grains rotting on the stalk itself, rendering the crop useless.  <img width="900" height="673" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08489c7e80680e0a600bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="900" height="646" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d084b9c7e80680e0a600cjpeg.jpg" alt="">My nieces Ritu, Swastika, and Barsha had gone to the fields to harvest the still-young crops to prevent this very problem from occurring.“Grandmother has told us to cut even the small stalks of wheat, otherwise the grain will weep,” Barsha explained to her elder sisters as she got busy in the fields. A popular folklore has been passed down from generations of farmers in Jhumlawang. In it, the smaller wheat stalks that have been left unharvested in the field gather around the harvested stalks at night, and weep.“The big grains fill bigger baskets, and we fill the smaller ones,” they say. “If not a thun (a basket similar to a doko that can retain smaller-sized grains), we could fill a phungo (a smaller basket) Then we could also feed our owners.” <img width="900" height="673" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d084f9c7e80680e0a600djpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08539c7e80680e0a600ejpeg.jpg" alt="">My mother’s sister Hastakala Buda had gone to nearby Dangliga to harvest wheat. When my mother Bhagwati Buda asked her if the wheat there was more plentiful, my aunt laughed and said, “Poor things, those crops got neither mulch nor water, we barely got a handful of grain out of them.”Sirmaya BK had come to help us with the wheat harvest. Out here in these parts, anyone who helps with the wheat-cutting is compensated with a sack of wheat at the end of each day. But since there simply was not enough harvest this year, no one had any work for Sirmaya. As she was preparing to return home, Sirmaya asked, “You don’t have enough wheat here to tide you over either. What are you going to eat?”Meanwhile, my sister Krishna Buda, who had been stuck in her maternal home due to the coronavirus pandemic, was uprooting the wheat in the field, yanking out the dry stalks. Not a single grain had grown in them. Gesturing sadly towards the dry field she said, “Look didi, what a shameful sight. The livestock will feed on this now.”Swastika, who had been looking on in frustration as Krishna uprooted the wheat stalks, added, “Phupu, we would have been so happy to harvest the wheat if the stalks had any grain on them.”   <img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08589c7e80680e0a600fjpeg.jpg" alt="">In Dallepata, my uncle Lok Bahadur Buda, who had irrigation on his terrace fields, had exactly the kind of harvest that Swastika would have been happy to help with. Where other villagers had their seeds destroyed, my uncle, thanks to irrigation water, managed to harvest four muri worth of wheat. This was two muri less than the usual yield, but it was better than nothing.Extreme weather like drought and torrential rainfall due to climate change have directly affected traditional agricultural practices in villages like Jhumlawang across Nepal, causing uncertainty and food insecurity. And while my uncle proved that irrigating the fields can result in a good yield even during periods of drought, the villagers here believe that irrigation causes the mulch and manure to settle beneath the soil and not help in improving the harvest.This is why the irrigation channels built by various organisations in these parts are barely used by local farmers. The rains are uncertain, but at least it does not mess with the soil, they believe. Mankumari Budha Bista, vice-chair of Bhume Rural Municipality, says that there is no culture of irrigation among Rukum farmers, who prefer to rely on traditional practices.  <img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d085a9c7e80680e0a6010jpeg.jpg" alt="">Now, just as the drought destroyed the wheat crop, continuous rain since April has damaged crops that do not require much water. The water destroyed much of the germinating potato planted in February. There was no rain when it was needed, and too much when the crops did not require it.“It rained just as the potatoes had begun sprouting, and the water rotted the plants away,” says Birmati bhauju.Even the usually hardy raised fields have been affected by the excessive and untimely rain. Heavy rains right after the maize seeds had been planted hampered their growth. Adding to their concern was a pest infestation in maize crops throughout East Rukum, and farmers are worried there will be locust invasion similar to last year.Such a multi-pronged attack on crops means that the threat of food shortage looms large. Jhumlawang produces two major staples each year: wheat and maize. Continuous rainfall from January to September in 2020 resulted in less-than-optimum maize yield. The drought that began after September then destroyed the wheat crop. The heavy rains that began right after also wiped out the potatoes and this year’s maize.Jhumlawang’s farmers depend on their crops for food security but for a reliable source of income — they are just trying to survive hand-to-mouth. Their immediate worry this year, however, is to save the maize crop and to secure enough seeds for the winter wheat crop.Famine-like conditions in which farmers are forced to eat seeds to survive are not new here in Jhumlawang. But my relatives say that these crises have been occurring more frequently than in the past.  <img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d085d9c7e80680e0a6011jpeg.jpg" alt="">Shiva Buda, who is in charge of the Jhumlawang Community Health Centre, has seen it all before. “In our village,” he says, “the destruction of one crop will bring famine, but the destruction of two staples is catastrophic.”The last two times there were deadly famines here were in 1971 and 1977. Those who were alive then remember surviving on gruel and roots of nettles. Some farmers had to mortgage their jewellery for food. Some of the villagers recall walking for five days on hungry stomachs to get some government relief. “We were born at a time of great pain,” said one farmer.There was, however, a silver lining from the famine. At that time, the village panchayat had asked the residents of Kyangsi, Seema, Morawang and Jhumlawang to dig a road from Ratwamare to Kwachiwang to transport relief materials for the 'Food for Development' program. However, that one road was not adequate for Jhumlawang residents during periods of famine that would follow. Ram Kumari Thapa recalls donning her doko and namlo and going as far as Dalsinge, Dhawanne, Domai and Ratwamare — as far as the limited road system allowed — in search of rice. As she travelled, Ram Kumari realised she was not alone. “When I saw the crowds of people,” she recalls, “I realised just  how many people were on the verge of starvation.”Transportation of food has become easier ever since an unpaved road reached the village two years ago. “Now, as long as we have the money, the food can be transported right to our home,” says Ram Kumari.This year, concerns about natural and climate-induced disasters among villagers have been compounded by the Covid-19 pandemic and the ensuing restrictions.“God has sent us death and disaster simultaneously,” Birmati bhauju complains.Dilman Roka, Chairman of Bhume Ward 3, met with Municipality chair Ramsur Buda in February to discuss the food shortage, and the threat of starvation due to food shortages compounded by Covid lockdowns. “Unlike in the cities, where transportation is not an issue, floods and landslides during the monsoon here not only interrupt  good delivery, but also make it expensive,” says Roka.  <img width="400" height="535" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d085f9c7e80680e0a6012jpeg.jpg" alt="">At present, Jhumlawang Village Foundation and Jhumlawang Rural Cooperative have collaborated to transport essential food items from Dang. Village chief Chandra Singh Shrestha says that the local government has written to Kathmandu asking for relief materials for those living in areas that are threatened by food shortages.Additionally, Bhume Rural Municipality has begun making long-term plans to integrate traditional and modern agricultural practices in the region. The municipality has been testing various food crops by allocating areas for agricultural study and research in Maring and is planning to give out grants and concessions to attract prospective young farmers. But most youngsters in Jhumlawang are not interested, and would rather go away to complete higher studies or find work abroad. This has created a shortage of able-bodied adults to tend the farms, contributing to decreased agricultural production further exacerbated by weather extremes and climate change.Like many Nepalis, however, those who go overseas send money back families at home. This means there is some cash to buy food in case the crops fail — proving that much of the remittances Nepalis send home from abroad go for bare day-to-day survival.Those whose family members remain in Nepal make rounds of the village to secure loans, borrowing from local lenders at 30-40% interest, trapping them in a vicious spiral of poverty. <img width="900" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08629c7e80680e0a6013jpeg.jpg" alt="">Bhim Prasad Shrestha, a young farmer in Jhumlawang, is worried about his family going hungry this year. “Why would anyone want to farm if months of hard work is destroyed due to drought and downpours like this?” says Shrestha, who returned from Saudi Arabia after working there for eight years.  He has been farming for several years, and describes some programs introduced by the government in East Rukum as impractical and unsuitable because they are more suited to the Tarai.  Shrestha says what is most urgently needed is to connect Jhumlawang to the market, and to incorporate modernised farming in the region.  Bhume rural municipality vice-chair Mankumari Budha Bista agrees. “It has become imperative to adopt timely and modern agricultural methods,” he says. “But we see that it takes time to catch on.” One evening, the lightning illuminates the mountains in pink flashes. There is a crash of thunder, and the rain again comes down in torrents.  My mother looks up to the sky and curses: “थुइया चिर्को पर्ने सर्ग! कस्तो राम देखा होलाई!” (Splitting the sky with lightning! Why such drama?) In my mother’s anger, I see the pain and the hardship of farmers here who struggle to survive and adapt to a changing climate over which they have no control. Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/124847" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">original article</a> by Shristi Karki.

First drought, then downpour

<figure><img width="800" height="493" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636ccaa79c7e80680e08bb7djpeg.jpg" alt="Simikot snowfall"/><figcaption>Photos: RSS</figcaption></figure>Heavy snowfall from Thursday to Saturday over Nepal has blanketed high villages in up to 0.5m of snow, obstructing road and air traffic, ending a prolonged drought and putting out devastating wildfires. The snow and rain affected most parts of Nepal, ending a four-month drought and making farmers on rain-fed terraces hopeful about their winter crops.Snowfall was heaviest in the trans-Himalayan districts of Humla, Mugu, Jumla, Dolpo, Mustang, Manang and Upper Gorkha. Some of these valleys had snowfall for three days, and the minimum temperature in Manang Valley fell to -10 Celsius on Saturday.The heavy snow put out wildfires that had been raging in Manang’s Tachai area for the past two weeks. An earlier fire near Chame that had gone on since November had spent itself before the snow storm arrived. Security forces had cleared the highway from Besisahar to Manang of snow on Friday, but the road is once more blocked by Saturday’s blizzard. <img width="1200" height="900" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636ccaa99c7e80680e08bb7ejpeg.jpg" alt="Locals carry firewood amid Simikot snowfall"><img width="1200" height="800" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636ccaab9c7e80680e08bb7fjpeg.jpg" alt="Simikot locals amid snowfall"><img width="1200" height="900" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636ccaae9c7e80680e08bb80jpeg.jpg" alt="Snowfall ends drought in Nepal mountains"><img width="991" height="718" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101156/636ccab19c7e80680e08bb81jpeg.jpg" alt="Snowfall over Simikot"><img width="1200" height="900" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101156/636ccab39c7e80680e08bb82jpeg.jpg" alt="Simikot snowfall">The airport in Rara and Simikot have been closed due to heavy snow, and although the sun came out on Sunday there is ice on the runway and all fixed-wing flights are cancelled.Although the rain in the mid-mountain districts provided respite from the drought, many areas just got drizzles. Kathmandu recorded only 1.5 mm of rain in a passing thunderstorm on Saturday afternoon – much less than the average 60mm winter rain from December-February in Central Nepal.

Heavy snowfall over Nepal Himalaya

<figure><img width="1200" height="675" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca709c7e80680e08bb68jpeg.jpg" alt="Snowfall in Jajarkot"/><figcaption>Photos: RSS</figcaption></figure>After suffering a four-month drought since the end of the monsoon last year, a westerly front finally dumped snow in the higher reaches of the Nepal Himalaya on Friday.At lower altitudes, farmers greeted the welcome rain which moistened wheat, mustard and other winter crops. The rain also cleared the thick fog that had engulfed the Nepal Tarai for the past month.The precipitation was not heavy, but it doused some of the devastating wildfires that had ravaged forests across central and western Nepal since December. A forest fire in Manang had been raging for two months.  There was nearly 1m of snow overnight in Khaptad National Park, and the flurries down to 2,800 m in Mustang, Manang and Kaski. Ghorepani viewpoint on the Annapurna Trek also got heavy snowfall overnight. Humla started getting snowfall on Thursday evening itself, and it continued all night and into Friday. <img width="800" height="450" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca739c7e80680e08bb69jpeg.jpg" alt="Snowfall at Ktaptad National Park"><img width="966" height="711" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca759c7e80680e08bb6ajpeg.jpg" alt="Snowfall at Myagdi"><img width="991" height="718" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca779c7e80680e08bb6bjpeg.jpg" alt="Snowfall in Simkot">The Department of Hydrology and Meteorology has predicted more precipitation over central and eastern Nepal into Saturday, with the weather clearing up after that.  The frontal system is moving eastward, and is expected to bring rain to Kathmandu Valley by evening. The rain had not arrived in the capital while Prime Miniter K P Oli’s political rally was going on in Darbar Marg on Friday afternoon, although there was a stiff breeze. <figure><img width="640" height="452" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca799c7e80680e08bb6cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Satellite radar image of the subcontinent traken on Friday at 1500 local time showing precipitation over Nepal in green.</figcaption></figure>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/wildfires-ravage-nepal-mountains/">Wildfires ravage Nepal mountains,</a> Nepali Times

Rain ends 4-month Nepal drought

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50059c7e80680e04fd39jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="774" height="546"/><figcaption>Lagankhel in the mid 1920s from on top of the Ashoka South Stupa. The road in the foreground goes to where Sat Dobato is today.</figcaption></figure>Kathmandu <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17327#.XTawJvIzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Valley used to be a lake</a>. When the water drained out, it left  ponds, lakes, wetlands and, later, flooded paddy fields and irrigation canals. Seeing water on the land then would have been the most natural sight.The Newa Civilisation maintained ponds for lotus flowers, ducks and fish which recharged <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100" target="_blank" rel="noopener">groundwater</a>, allowing the soil to filter the water that could then be extracted from wells. Rainwater washed the streets of waste which flowed down to terraced fields, fertilising them.Along ridges and mountain saddles across Nepal, there are still some ponds left in which buffalos wallow. These store monsoon runoff, allowing it to slowly seep into the topsoil and keep the slopes below moist.The best examples of the Valley’s ponds were in Lagankhel and Pulchok. They took in all the rain and stored it underground for use year-round in Patan’s ancient wells. Today, both have been encroached upon and filled over to make way for a concrete Municipality building, an army base, a petrol pump, schools, shopping mall and a tourist bus park.Now, when the monsoon rain falls <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-2019-deluge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">as it did last week in buckets</a>, the water has nowhere to go but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/act-globally-think-locally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">flow down the streets</a> turning them into muddy torrents, carrying away children and motorcycles.Deprived of <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/recharging-the-mountains-" target="_blank" rel="noopener">rainwater recharging</a>, the town’s wells and ponds run dry shortly after the monsoon. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">ancient water spouts</a> are <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/renew-commitment-to-preserve-ancient-water-spouts,2931" target="_blank" rel="noopener">reduced to a trickle</a>. Open fields that allowed water to seep into the soil are now covered by asphalt roads, cement terraces and tin roofs. The water rushes down into rivers already constricted by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Flood-on-the-border-Nepal-India,3915" target="_blank" rel="noopener">embankments</a>, where water velocity increases, causing destruction downstream.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50089c7e80680e04fd3ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="668"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a500b9c7e80680e04fd3bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="668">A view of Ashok Stupa at Lagankhel and the surrounding area in the picture taken by Rich Pfau in 1968 and of the same location today (right) taken by PS Joshi.Gravity is Nepal’s great source of energy. Falling water is a renewable source Nepal has in abundance, but it needs to be husbanded properly. Once water has flowed down river, we need pumps to get it up again. Our ancestors understood this well, and stored water at high points: the shrinking lotus ponds in Chhauni and historical ponds like <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/on-queens-pond-rani-pokhari,4092" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rani Pokhari</a>, Eekha Pokhari and Kicha Pokhari.Fortunately, there is now a belated realisation about the importance of ponds. Bhaktapur, Kirtipur and Bungmati are reviving their ancient water storage and recharge systems. Citizens have risen up against land-grabbers who try to usurp ponds. It is stupid to think that land will be worth anything without water.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-terrifying-assessment-of-himalayan-melting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Himalaya</a> is not just Asia’s water tower, it is a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/h20-shortage,3456" target="_blank" rel="noopener">gigantic sponge</a>. We must keep the sponge wet by allowing indigenous tree species to allow seepage through their roots. Roads should be so designed that they do not destroy natural recharge systems.Pulchoki and the holy Nau Dhara and Panch Dhara at its base in Godavari have year-round flow because of the well preserved watershed. After it was protected, Shivapuri National Park gives the valley residents 30 million liters of freshwater every day.Such ecosystem services are not available elsewhere in the Valley. In the Mahabharat and Chure mid-mountains, springs have gone dry because of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/east-west-city/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">indiscriminate road construction</a>, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/crushing-tale-of-Chure" target="_blank" rel="noopener">sand mining, quarrying and logging</a>. This is why the Tarai towns are either <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/only-half-prepared/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">flooded during monsoon</a> or face acute drought the rest of the year because of falling groundwater levels.Last week, the Supreme Court ruled that the ancient pond around the South <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1678#.XTa25fIzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stupa of Ashok</a> at Lagankhel should be restored. This will bring a huge change to the lives of the people of Patan by preventing annual flooding and recharging the ground water all year round. Every urban and rural municipality across Nepal should be mandated by law to similarly protect one major watershed, dig lakes and ponds on high ground. Given our love for earth movers, this should be an attractive proposition for mayors.It is one thing to attend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/weather-warning-for-climate-meeting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">conferences on climate change</a> and spout words like ‘vulnerability’ and ‘resilience’, but another to act. Visit the community around Pimbaha in Patan to learn how local action can restore ancient water storage systems, while contributing to tourism and local wellbeing.Our goal should be to ensure that as much water as possible is harvested and stored in Kathmandu Valley and across Nepal. Let’s keep the water on our land.Anil Chitrakar is President of SiddharthincRead also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-silent-emergency-springs-going-dry/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's silent emergency: springs going dry</a>, Ajaya Dixit<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Put back what you pump out</a>, Sonia Awale

Anil Chitrakar

Nepal must keep water on its land

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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