In her Tarai village not far from Hetauda, <a href="https://www.recordnepal.com/sarita-pariyar-who-is-going-to-tell-our-stories">Sarita Pariyar has written</a>, ‘Only certain castes were expected to read and write.’ Tamangs, Dalits and 'higher' castes attended her school, but only some were thought to have the capacity to learn.
‘People would say Chtteri Bahun ka bacchaharu bhayepo padchan; Bhote, Kami Damai ka baccha kaha padchan? (Chettri Bahun children can study, why would Tamang and Kami Damai children go to school?).’
As a child, Sarita believed what she heard about such groups. She saw that very few Tamang and Dalit students made it far in her school. Later she realised that these students faced economic, social, and linguistic barriers, not least the low expectations about their intellectual capacity.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-class-divide/">Nepal’s class divide</a>, Tom Robertson
‘The caste system led higher caste kids to believe that reading and writing are in their blood, but Dalit and Janajati kids were made to believe that they could not study and had to do manual work,’ writes Sarita, who realised that many talented children fell victim to these self-fulfilling prophecies. ‘Stories about what one group can or cannot do carry tremendous power.’
In Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-differences/">schooling and education</a> was once for higher castes only. Even after schools were opened in the 1950s and 1960s, for many years Dalit children either could not go to school or had to sit apart, on the floor or at the back. They could not use the water tap. They faced taunting and teasing from other children.
Today the situation is much improved. There is very little overt discrimination of the kind there once was, but much remains to be done. One big barrier that Dalit children face, as Sarita Pariyar’s story so powerfully reveals, is the bigotry of low expectations.
Many high caste people still believe that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/caste-aside-dalits-battle-sitgma/">Dalit</a>are not smart or have less potential than other children. Sadly, some teachers to whom students look to for guidance believe this. And even more tragically, some Dalits believe this about themselves and their children.
I often hear Nepalis making generalisations about castes. Tamangs are this way. Brahmins are that way. Newars are this way. One of the most horrible stereotypes is “This group is not smart. They are not capable.” Such comments are routinely made about many groups: girls, disabled children, and janajati, particularly Tamangs <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu/">Tharu</a>. It is probably most commonly said about Dalits.
Historically and even today, some 'higher' caste groups have considered Dalits of low intelligence. "In general,” one Dalit friend told me, “conservative Nepalis agree that Dalits’ fate — their Karma — is to serve non-Dalits with manual labour. They consider that Dalits have unintelligent minds — moto buddhi."
Another Dalit friend added, "From the very first day of childhood, children of lower caste are made to believe that they are worthless and fit for nothing. But upper caste children are made to believe that they are the purest and the most intelligent and then they alone have to get into education and professional work."
Read also: After quantity, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/">Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel
Even some teachers hold these beliefs. By far most of Nepal's teachers are from higher caste groups. One longtime teacher-friend (from the upper castes) explained the situation this way: “I’ve never seen active discrimination. That has decreased. But many teachers in their minds still hold negative concepts.”
I asked how these teachers thought about Dalit children. “They are dirty, they do dirty work, they can’t grasp ideas. Teachers won’t say this directly but that’s what they think. It’s in their minds still.”
Nepali teachers often <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/teaching-nepali-teachers-to-teach-better/">do not have good training of any kind</a>, much less effective training on anti-discrimination thinking. Thus they rarely have a deep understanding of systemic racism or generational poverty.
They tend to assume that the status quo is natural and inevitable -- they look at the world around them only long enough to confirm preexisting biases. If they see a Dalit student struggling, they are quick to blame it on caste genetics, not other factors, such as lack of opportunity.
"Jat janayo' (his caste is showing) is a common expression used to humiliate Dalits,” explains a Dalit friend in his forties. “Teachers used this stereotype sometimes when they found I was not performing well in school. As I look back to my school days, I find that teachers were biased about Dalits’ intelligence. They were prejudiced with thoughts that Dalits cannot perform well in class. They consider that reading and writing is not in Dalit culture."
A Dalit friend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chitwans-bote-people-in-a-changing-world/">Chitwan</a> says, "When Dalit students don't do well, it is blamed on their caste. No one says that maybe they never got a chance. Because if Dalits get a chance, they do great, just as well as any other group."
Worst of all, low expectations can shape reality, they can become self-fulfilling. Children can begin to believe the things said about them. They face obstacles because of poverty or other reasons, but begin to doubt their native capacity. ‘Believe that you will fail, and you are likely to fail. Believe that you can succeed and you will have begun to succeed,’ an American educator explains.
Some <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/">Dalit</a> children hear these negative stereotypes not just from higher castes but also from other Dalits, sometimes even from their own parents. A friend says, "Dalits also thought, and in rural underdeveloped areas continue to think that reading and writing is not their work and they are not born for these works.”
He adds, "Lower expectations and/or inferior feelings are widespread among Dalit families — both children and their guardians. They often express their feelings that “dalit le padhera ke paauchha ra?” (What benefits would an educated Dalit receive?)” or “Padhera ke po hune hora?”(What would a Dalit become after studying?)”
In other words, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-caste-struggle/">Dalits</a> have internalised the inaccurate myths about them created by the caste system. It is worth repeating Sarita Pariyar’s words: 'Stories about what one group can or cannot do carry tremendous power.'
This is, in effect, a new form of caste discrimination. Today Dalits may be allowed to attend school. They may be allowed to sit in seats like everyone else and in the front but they are still caged in by low expectations. It is just as bad as if they are not allowed to attend school.
Fortunately, the situation is changing. "Nowadays most of the Dalit children and adults don’t express low expectations about their own intelligence and educational potential," an interviewee told me. "Due to electronic media, they see so many doctors, engineers, singers, political leaders and others from Dalit community and these examples give them beautiful hope that even in the circle of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/caste-no-bar/">caste system</a> we can change ourselves into good people."
This is encouraging. Just as low expectations can be self-fulfilling, so can high expectations.
Tom Robertson is a historian and the former director of Fulbright Nepal.

Tom Robertson

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

Bigotry of low expectations

<figure><img width="2500" height="1370" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baede9c7e80680e07801cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A teacher prepares for online classes through the Teach For Nepal program. Photos: TEACH FOR NEPAL</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s schools have been closed now for nearly five months, and while some have shifted to online classes, Zoom and YouTube are not the answer for schools in the districts. Teachers fear many students will have dropped out when schools physically reopen.Ichksha Pandey, 15, is a student in Nauthar village of Lamjung and dreams of becoming a nurse to improve healthcare standards in her village. Shreya Thapa, a fellow with the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-fellows/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-fellows/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHV5GNbJzuTiesKBhlxCV9tiwgEUQ">Teach for Nepal</a> project says she is one of the sharpest students in class, a keen and curious learner. For the past three months, Pandey has been attending television classes broadcast by the government. But it is difficult when her father scolds her for spending too much time on schoolwork at home, she says.“I have to do all the household work because there is no one else in the house to take care of it,” she says. “My parents didn’t go to school so it’s hard to make them believe my education should get the most priority.”Pandey is determined to continue her studies, but has seen classmates and juniors lose interest in school during these months because some do not have access to television and radio. Those who do are quickly discouraged without teachers physically present to hammer home the importance of education and walk them through difficult problems, she says.“Relying on technology won’t work for us,” said Moin Uddin, an alumnus of Teach For Nepal, an organisation that tries to address the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHbTgM10DvfVe3P9gHOR6k_hazpJQ">inequities in education in the country</a>. “COVID-19 has to end, school has to start. That is the only way out.” <figure><img width="640" height="1138" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baee19c7e80680e07801djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>School closures brought about by the coronavirus have affected more than <a href="https://en.unesco.org/themes/education-emergencies/coronavirus-school-closures" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://en.unesco.org/themes/education-emergencies/coronavirus-school-closures&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFpl9y7Llh6KA4zySkYCsNFlAcV9A">1 billion students worldwide</a>. <a href="https://www.undp.org/content/undp/en/home/news-centre/news/2020/COVID19_Human_development_on_course_to_decline_for_the_first_time_since_1990.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.undp.org/content/undp/en/home/news-centre/news/2020/COVID19_Human_development_on_course_to_decline_for_the_first_time_since_1990.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGs1ocG3vm6hegEsP6uO4RkRSyBVA">According to UNDP estimates,</a> 86% of primary children in the poorest countries are effectively out of school now because they lack tools for web-based learning, compared with 20% in the richer ones.  In developing countries like Nepal, school closures have wiped out recent gains in education,<a href="https://www.unicef.org/eap/stories/covid-19-threatens-reverse-education-gains" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.unicef.org/eap/stories/covid-19-threatens-reverse-education-gains&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG8ysy-xkuLKIvjjpB1if35OZI0kA"> writes Maida Pasic, an education specialist at UNICEF</a>. There is also growing evidence of learners being pulled back into child labour, according to the International Labour Organisation (ILO). At Terse Higher Secondary School in Talamarang of Sindhupalchok district nearly all families of the students enrolled are subsistence farmers. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle-2/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle-2/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFNrvIwGWU1NJURrmUUQTecndpvfA">Children often drop out </a>because they cannot afford school, a situation that has worsened during the pandemic as family members working in Kathmandu and India have lost their jobs, and had just started recovering from the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragedy-of-teacher-teach-for-nepal,2206" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragedy-of-teacher-teach-for-nepal,2206&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGWTkrH-1mSIZ3zcM197StdGrRXCQ">2015 earthquake.</a> Typically, 15 out of the school’s 600 students drop out every year. This year, they estimate many more children will not be re-joining classes when schools reopen, and the next two monsoon months are crucial. The Talamarang School has started a new mobile classroom initiative, in which teachers ride up to villages, gather students outdoors, and conduct lessons. Teacher Bhim Tamang says each one-way trip can take up to two hours due to poor roads. But it is the only way to get to his students, many of whom have been out of touch. “We tell them why education is important, why they should study,” he said. “Or they will forget about school and may have to get married.”  <figure><img width="4000" height="2250" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baee49c7e80680e07801ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Studies have shown children are less susceptible to the coronavirus, and interventions aimed at them might have a <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41591-020-0962-9" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nature.com/articles/s41591-020-0962-9&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGoZ-r7et1Z3ktZG2CJfbWsVihkqg">relatively small impact</a> on reducing transmissions. Yet, the learning gap between rich and poor will likely grow during the pandemic, and closing schools for five months causes children in low and middle-income countries to lose more than a full year’s worth of learning, <a href="https://www.brookings.edu/blog/education-plus-development/2020/06/15/how-much-learning-may-be-lost-in-the-long-run-from-covid-19-and-how-can-mitigation-strategies-help/?preview_id=852591" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.brookings.edu/blog/education-plus-development/2020/06/15/how-much-learning-may-be-lost-in-the-long-run-from-covid-19-and-how-can-mitigation-strategies-help/?preview_id%3D852591&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH_-UG0yhCieGLkE8MUU8_Cy1GA0g">another Brookings report found</a>.“Reopening schools - when it is safe to do so - must be a priority otherwise we will see a devastating impact on children who are falling behind,” <a href="https://www.unicef.org/eap/stories/covid-19-threatens-reverse-education-gains" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.unicef.org/eap/stories/covid-19-threatens-reverse-education-gains&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG8ysy-xkuLKIvjjpB1if35OZI0kA">Pasic of UNICEF wrote</a>.With so many young futures at stake, Nepal’s teachers have rallied to keep their students engaged and learning, even from a distance. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-fellows/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-fellows/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746171000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHV5GNbJzuTiesKBhlxCV9tiwgEUQ">Teach For Nepal fellow</a> Anup Buyo creates and uploads science videos on YouTube, then pays for his students’ mobile data so they can gather classmates in the same village to watch them together. Afterwards, they video call him with their questions.Still, he worries. “Their foundations are very poor and they will certainly forget everything we taught before this lockdown. It’s a decade of work lost in months,” he said.Teachers are hoping the Nepal government can provide them with more support as they try to get students back on track. “Support in terms of workbook copies, internet facilities and expenses for visiting villages and communities,” said Anish Manandhar, another <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nepali-times-search/?q=teach+for+nepal" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/nepali-times-search/?q%3Dteach%2Bfor%2Bnepal&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1595821746172000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfGm-eSucqPa4nuVIp-qm5JLCL_g">Teach For Nepal </a>volunteer teacher. <figure><img width="2880" height="1582" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baee89c7e80680e07801fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Other volunteers like Samrita Maharjan say that as teachers they try to do their jobs during the lockdown school closure, but it is stressful. During a typical Zoom lesson, only four or five of Maharjan’s class of 60 students from Saraswoti Model Secondary School in Tanahu turn up. Most have no internet access, others cannot operate Zoom.“It’s not even their fault. Never in their lives have they heard of online classes. Using Zoom is new and scary for them,” she says.The government has acted slowly, schools closed without viable alternatives for remote learning, and more students are dropping out as their teachers struggle to reach them.“I wouldn’t blame the students because we can’t even cater to their learning in the right way,” Maharjan says, “if the virus is spreading at that speed, our execution must be double the speed right?”

'A decade of work lost in 4 months’

https://youtu.be/-ulwU8U2nG4Along the lush green ridgeline on the border between Lalitpur and Kavre is Kali Devi Secondary School, which was destroyed in the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/27/a-month-that-felt-like-a-year/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2015 earthquake</a> and has now been partially rebuilt.The classrooms are more sturdy, and have two exit doors that open outward, the staircases are wider, there is improved ventilation and the school is wheelchair friendly.Principal Deo Narayan Chaudhary shows visitors around proudly. “See, we even have this verandah from where students can enjoy the beautiful view.” Indeed, the scenery is stunning with Kathmandu Valley on one side and the rolling green hills on the other.When the earthquake struck shortly before noon on 25 April 2015, some 7,000 schools and 26,000 classrooms <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/keeping-the-children-in-safe-classrooms,3057" target="_blank" rel="noopener">were destroyed</a> across Central Nepal. Luckily, since it was Saturday, schools were closed and fatalities among students was not as high as in collapsed schools in Pakistan in 2005 or Sichuan in 2008.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/6369040b9c7e80680e037cfbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>In Kali Devi Secondary School's tenth grade, there are only six students. Pics: Monika Deupala</figcaption></figure>The 2015 earthquake was a warning to rebuild and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18902#.W35E2s4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">retrofit</a> schools not just in the 14 districts affected, but in the rest of Nepal as well. The earthquake was also an <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/earthquake-an-opportunity-to-rebuilt-education-system-not-just-fallen-schools,2336" target="_blank" rel="noopener">opportunity to rebuild and improve basic education infrastructure</a> all over the country.Indeed, the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) came out with earthquake-resistant school building designs, and this Kali Devi Secondary School was one of them. District Level Project Implementation Units (DLPIU) were required to ensure that all schools follow the design criteria.“Our job is to ensure buildings are made according to design, and quality is maintained. Our engineers are assigned to be present when foundations are laid and the concrete is poured,” explains Prakash Maharjan of the Lalitpur DLPUI.But in spite of model schools like this, and even though school reconstruction has been faster than reconstruction of homes, only 3,785 of the schools damaged or destroyed have been fully rebuilt. The reason, as with everything else, is official bureaucracy, lethargy and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/trickledown-corruption,4176" target="_blank" rel="noopener">corruption</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/6369040f9c7e80680e037cfcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="699"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Many of the schools ran out of money, and look like half-completed construction sites, and should technically be off limits to children. At the Saraswati Secondary School in Lele, a teacher points to the steel rods jutting out of the ceiling of an older retrofitted building, and complains: “There is still a lot to do, but unless some donor comes along, I do not really see the government following up and ensuring completion.”Federalism and decentralisation should have speeded up school reconstruction, but confusion over jurisdiction and budget has actually slowed things down. Earlier, all budget-dispensing happened through the DLPIU, but with districts now defunct, no one is sure who is responsible. The new building in Lele should have been completed last month, but money ran out.Lalitpur’s Kali Devi Secondary School has a well-appointed new building, but soil erosion poses a risk to a part of the school grounds, there is no electricity, water or adequate sanitation facilities. A newly built compound wall was destroyed by floods.In one classroom, Grade 2 and 3 was grouped together and taught by the same arithmetic teacher, Bishnu Raj Thala. “I teach the same topic to both the grades, but give slightly harder questions to Grade 3 and slightly easier ones to Grade 2,” Thala explains.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/636904129c7e80680e037cfdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="788"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The other problem has been lack of students. Many families migrated to the cities after the earthquake and have not returned. In Grade 10 of Kali Devi School, there are only five students. Government schools especially have fewer students because besides outmigration, parents are also sending their children to private schools.“Half our students dropped out because of the difficulties in the Temporary Learning Centres after the earthquake, it is difficult to get them to come back,” Principal Chaudhary says.The other looming crisis concerns western Nepal which has not seen a major earthquake for 700 years and seismologists have warned that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/past-disasters-foretold/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">a catastrophic quake there is overdue</a>. Experts say schools in western Nepal need to be urgently retrofitted.Explains Narayan Marasini at the National Society for Earthquake Technology Nepal (NSET): “A lot of the focus has been given to Eastern and Central Nepal following the earthquakes in 1988 and 2015, we now need to tackle the challenges in the West.”Recognising this problem, the British aid agency DFID has launched a Safer Schools Project which aims to retrofit and reconstruct schools in Western Nepal.“We chose this region to work with because there is high vulnerability and low awareness on coping mechanisms,” says Eleanor Bainbridge of DFID.Indeed, 2015 proved that strengthening school buildings is important in saving lives in a disaster. None of the schools that had been retrofitted by NSET came down in the earthquake, and many of the schools that crumbled had not been strengthened.The answer is not another building code, but implementing the 1994 guidelines. If the lessons from the Gorkha Earthquake of 2015 are heeded, it could save a lot of children’s lives in a future disaster.<h4>Community committees</h4>In schools where the government funded reconstruction, the main responsibility of the process was given to School Management Committees (SMCs), whose members include educationists, social workers, or village elders.“This is a mechanism to involve the community in rebuilding schools,” Prakash Maharjan from the Lalitpur District Level Project Implementation Units (DLPIU) says. Engineers supervise design-adherence and quality control periodically, but SMCs are the backbone of the process: from hiring contractors to selecting material, they oversee all work.“Without support from the SMC, reconstruction would not be possible,” adds principal Deo Narayan Chaudhary (pictured right) of Kali Devi Secondary School in Kavre where the committee took an active part in extending the road leading to the school to make transportation of construction material easier.In fact, across the 14 districts affected by the 2015 earthquake the schools that have been rebuilt are the ones where the community committees are most involved. “Villages are close knit communities where success is also a matter of pride for the entire village.” Maharjan explains.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/636904159c7e80680e037cfejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="946"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Moreover, schools also function as a nucleus of awareness for the entire entire community. Which is why Safer Schools Project in western Nepal seeks to spread awareness about retrofitting and earthquake safety through schools.The project is jointly undertaken by the British aid agency DFID and the Nepal Society for Earthquake Technology Nepal (NSET) in western Nepal, where the next big earthquake is overdue.Says Eleanor Bainbridge of DFID: "Schools are excellent starting points to reach out to the rest of the community." Narayan Marasini of NSET concurs: “When we conducted retrofitting training, we did it in close coordination with SMCs, and villagers also started to take interest to <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/replacing-bricks-with-safer-alternatives-for-reconstruction,2287" target="_blank" rel="noopener">earthquake resistant building technique</a>s.”Beyond this, the role of elected local governments is another key component. Says Sushil Khanal, a teacher at Lalitpur’s Saraswati Secondary School: “Much of the future investment in schools depends on how local leaders perceive education. If they do not understand the importance of schools, things get difficult.”Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/earthquake-an-opportunity-to-rebuilt-education-system-not-just-fallen-schools,2336" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lesson still to be learnt</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/keeping-the-children-in-safe-classrooms,3057" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Keeping children in classrooms</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Class struggle

Nepal has shut down dozens of social media platforms in a move that is widely seen as an effort to tax the revenue they generate in the country, and to control content critical of government. The sites were blocked as of midnight on Thursday, 4 September and affects all Meta products including WhatsApp and Messenger, Threads, and others. Although YouTube, Google and X are also on the government’s list, they were still working as of Friday midday.&nbsp; The government says it took the action after repeated warnings to the platforms to open offices in Nepal, a Cabinet decision last month setting a deadline, as well as a 17 August Supreme Court ruling also requiring them to register and pay requisite taxes. However, the Bill cited in the ban, ‘The Operation, Use, and Regulation of Social Media in Nepal’ has not yet been passed by Parliament. Some social media platforms which were already paying taxes in Nepal even though they are not officially registered, have also been blocked. The move is the latest in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/big-beautiful-bills" target="_blank">a slew of draft legislations</a> designed to undermine Nepal’s open society. A Bill amending the Print and Publications Act would allow district bureaucrats to shut down media. Another draft Bill would allow political appointees to head a new Media Council with the power to revoke the licenses of journalists.&nbsp; A counter-intelligence Bill would let just about anyone in government to arbitrarily tap phones, read emails and trail citizens. On Wednesday the government announced new immigration requirements that would allow it to track the movement of all foreigners in the country. Yet another draft Bill has been set to Parliament to dissolve the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10675" target="_blank">Social Welfare Council (SWC)</a> and move registration and monitoring of non-governmental organisations, nonprofits and charities to the Ministry of Social Welfare. Seen in this light, the blockage of social media platforms this week is seen as the latest government attempt to constrict freedom of press. Nepal is one of the few remaining open societies in Asia, and now appears to be drifting towards authoritarianism. The government’s sudden shutdown of social media has been greeted with howls of protest on platforms that still remain open, like Viber and TikTok, as well as in Nepal’s mainstream press. Even senior members of the ruling UML-NC coalition have sharply criticised the move, asking if the government is trying to “turn Nepal into North Korea”.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656" data-rendition-name="original" width="4280" height="5187" loading="lazy" alt="social media ban in Nepal"> </figure>  The Regional Director of the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) Beh Lih Yi said in a statement: ‘Nepal’s sweeping ban on social media sets a dangerous precedent for press freedom. Blocking online news platforms vital to journalists will undermine reporting and the public’s right to information. The government must immediately rescind this order and restore access to social media platforms, which are essential tools for exercising press freedom.’ Besides undermining press freedom, blocking social media platforms will also hurt commerce and the economy since so many small and medium business trade through Instagram, Facebook and other platforms. Nepal’s vibrant social media has also been a boost or citizens to assert identity, build solidarity against injustice and play an adversarial role when the mainstream media does not do it. Social media platforms have also become the tenuous link for Nepali families scattered across the world to keep in touch with each other — its importance growing with the increasing size of the diaspora. The government wants social media platforms to register, pay taxes and remove posts on their sites that ‘undermine the national interest and Nepal’s territorial integrity, disturb social and religious harmony’.&nbsp; In response, rights activists have said while there is need for the government to regulate extreme content and hate speech, officials appear to be more intent on clamping down on free speech and trying to force platforms to share the revenue. On Friday, the government had allowed WhatsApp back online, but there were reports that it had instructed the Nepal Telecommunication Authority (NTA) to instruct mobile and internet service providers to block by Friday night all platforms, including Facebook, Instagram, Messenger, WhatsApp, X (Twitter), YouTube, LinkedIn, Reddit, Threads, Snapchat, Pinterest, Signal, Clubhouse, Rumble.&nbsp; Platforms that have registered and are allowed include TikTok, Viber, Nimbuzz, Popo Live, WeTalk, Global Diary and the Nepali portal Hamro Patro. TikTok was banned last year for ‘disturbing social harmony’ and it was lifted after the platform registered its office in Nepal. But even while it was banned, many users simply switched to VPN. Telegram was also banned for ‘financial crimes’ and it has since also been allowed back. NTA officials confirmed that some Asia-Pacific regional offices of platforms, including Meta had been in touch overnight inquiring about the registration process.&nbsp; Nepal is not alone in regulating social media. China bans most Western platforms, Russia and Turkey regulate their and require platforms to locate their data servers in the country. Gulf countries allow social media but keep a tight control on dissent.&nbsp; Experts have said even the government will not dare close down YouTube since so many Nepali individuals and companies make money with posts on that platform, and closing it would also impact on Google and Gmail. Facebook had also just launched a monetisation scheme for videos and reels, and Nepalis uploading content would lose revenue.&nbsp; Blocking the platforms has already hit content creators, influencers and cut small businesses from reaching customers. A survey of social media use in Nepal by Sharecast Initiative showed that 94% of those with smart phones used YouTube, followed by Facebook (92%) while TikTok was in the 50-60% range. X and Instagram were in the single digits. A YouTube ban will also hurt the mainstream media since up to 20% of the revenue of Nepal’s main tv channels came through YouTube. Some 11.1 million Nepalis watch YouTube content every day, the survey showed. ‘For global giants like Meta or Google, Nepal is a small market, and they may not even flinch — but for millions of Nepalis, these platforms are central to daily life, livelihoods, and connections across the world,’ wrote AI consultant Naresh Newar in a LinkedIn post. Some experts said the government’s sweeping ban on social media networks was untenable and the government would be forced to rollback sooner or later. Said editor Shiva Gaunle: “The platforms had given citizens a voice and broken the monopoly of the government, legislators, the courts and journalists over public opinion. This is an effort to reassert that monopoly, but Nepal can never be turned into a North Korea.”

Protest grows against Nepal’s social media ban

It was 30 years ago this month that investment into ‘Baby Arun’, the 201MW first phase of the run-of-river Arun III project, was brought to a screeching halt when the World Bank officially withdrew its support. This brought about profound and fundamental changes in the way Nepal’s power sector subsequently developed. Nepalis suffered debilitating power outages between 2008-2016 due to shortages attributable to the cancellation. At the same time, the gap left by Baby Arun was filled by private sector investment in ways that were not obvious in 1995. It took 30 years, but in many ways Nepal’s power sector is more healthy today than it has ever been, and likely better than if the project was built as planned. At a projected budget of $1.08 billion, Baby Arun would have cost the equivalent of Nepal’s entire annual government expenditure in 1995. It was to be funded by concessional grants and loans from multilateral and bilateral funders, including the World Bank, Asian Development Bank (ADB), KfW, and investment by the government itself. At the time, Nepal’s total electricity generation capacity was only 230MW, and the trajectory of the power sector changed dramatically following the cancellation. In the past 30 years, $5.4 billion has been invested in the power sector led by private investors, and much of it from domestic banks and pension funds (table, right).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="984" height="521" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Nearly 70% of the new megawatts generated were by private independent power producers (IPP) in the past 30 years, while the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) and its subsidiary companies added 30% of new capacity. Almost 80% of total debt financing came from domestic banks and employee retirement funds. International assistance for power generation dropped dramatically over this time, accounting for only about 15% of investment. Before 1995 new power projects used to be entirely dependent on foreign aid. Since 1995, 63% of new generation came from 171 small hydropower projects with an average capacity of 12MW, while 4% was from 21 solar photovoltaic and biomass projects developed by local IPPs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097" data-rendition-name="original" width="988" height="503" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Over three decades, investment in Nepal’s power supply came primarily from new actors that had never before been involved in this sector. The rate of electrification rose from 10% to close to 100% -- sufficient to meet domestic needs during most of the year, and in 2024 made Nepal a net exporter of power to India for the first time in its history. As practically all the new investment in this period went into run-of-river hydro and solar projects, rather than into hydropower reservoirs with seasonal storage, Nepal continues to rely on imports from India during the dry winter months. Surplus electricity generation for export during the monsoon is slated to grow rapidly as another 200 solar and hydro projects are nearing completion of construction, with over 5,000MW of power capacity. Private Power The cancellation of Baby Arun inadvertently accelerated the entry of the private sector into Nepal’s power generation. The government enacted the Electricity Act in 1992 to attract private IPPs and diversify away from total dependence from international aid, but had been struggling for several years to conclude the first agreement with the 60MW Khimti Project. There remained a large gap between the tariff that the government thought was reasonable versus what was demanded by the Norwegian investor Statkraft, and the private sector arms of the World Bank and ADB that were financing the project. The shock of World Bank withdrawal from Baby Arun put tremendous pressure on the government, then led by the UML as it is now. The Bank’s decision to terminate its involvement was ostensibly, at least partially, taken in response to a letter critiquing the project sent by the UML while it was in the opposition.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347" data-rendition-name="original" width="949" height="446" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>BAD NEWS: Newspaper clippings from the early 90s on tender announcement ahead of loan approval (left) and secrecy surrounding environmental assessment (centre) of Arun III before its eventual cancellation in August 1995.</figcaption> </figure>  The government was forced to soften its position and agree to the investors’ terms following the cancellation of Baby Arun. It directed NEA to sign a power purchase agreement (PPA) with Khimti. It was concluded in January 1996, and this was followed by a second PPA in July 1996 with Panda Energy, the American developer of the 45MW Upper Bhotekosi project. The expensive USD-denominated agreements to buy power from two international private producers, with price escalation clauses tied to the New York Consumer Price Index, sent alarm bells ringing. There was worry that the country was heading towards unaffordable tariff rates for the consumer and potential bankruptcy for NEA as a result of inevitable future weakening of the Nepali Rupee. The government had strong-armed NEA into signing these agreements, and realised that concessionary financing terms that Nepal was used to receiving for public sector projects such as Baby Arun and Kali Gandaki A, that included below-market interest rates and 40 years repayment period with a 10 year grace period before starting repayment, were not the norm for private sector investors. Nepal’s status as a less than attractive destination for foreign investment meant that the country had few options but to accept expensive dollar PPAs from international developers with the high commercial interest rates and short repayment periods imposed by their banks because of high investment risks. In the end, the government ended up having to additionally provide a sovereign guarantee in order to close the deal at the insistence of the lenders – committing it to repayment in case NEA defaulted on paying the IPPs. It is reasonable to assume that the extraordinarily high political cost of agreeing to the PPA terms would have meant that no government would have willingly agreed to them in 1995 had it not suffered the trauma of the loss of concessionary-financed public sector projects as large as the Baby Arun. It has taken NEA 25 years to consider offering dollar-denominated PPAs again: to cover the foreign exchange portion of the investment in the 216MW Upper Trisuli-1 and 120MW Rasuwa-Bhotekosi Hydropower projects. It seemed unlikely at the time, but it turned out that the dire situation Nepal found itself in 1995 planted the seed to mobilise investment for affordable power from within the country. Double Whammy After the dual shock of first losing investment in Baby Arun and having to sign expensive power purchase agreements with international IPPs, the first proposal for an alternative strategy to mitigate the risk of foreign currency investment into hydropower projects came from a group of engineers within the Arun III team at NEA. Led by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4900">Deputy Director Damber Bahadur Nepali,</a> engineers convinced the leadership that NEA needed to invest in a subsidiary company to build a series of locally-designed and domestically-financed projects that would have lower cost with rupee-denominated PPAs. They registered the Chilime Hydropower Company Limited (CHCL) in October 1995 with 51% shares from NEA, 25% from its employees, and 24% available for the general public, 10% of which was prioritised for local residents at the project site. The 22.1MW project is in Rasuwa on a tributary of the Trisuli, and mobilised debt financing from the Employee Provident Fund, which manages retirement savings for employees of the government, public enterprises, and private sector institutions. CHCL’s experience showed that NEA employees themselves believed that individual hydropower projects with operational independence from NEA could be developed profitably in Nepal by its own engineers -- and they were willing to put their own money on the line. Chilime also demonstrated that there was money in the country, particularly with retirement funds, looking for opportunities for long-term investments. Following completion of Chilime in 2003, CHCL led the formation of three other NEA subsidiary companies that completed construction in 2023 and 2024, producing 168.3MW using fully rupee-tied investment. NEA’s largest subsidiary, the Upper Tamakosi Hydropower Limited, completed construction of its 456MW plant in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1571" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>DAMNED: The $700 million 456MW Upper Tamakosi built entirely with domestic funds before it was destroyed by the September floods last year. </figcaption> </figure>  There were some delays and cost overruns on this run-of-river project, the largest in the country with a final cost of over $700 million -- all of it sourced domestically. The five subsidiary companies launched by NEA have produced almost two times as much new power as NEA has over the past 30 years. Seven other NEA subsidiaries are currently constructing projects to add another 474MW to the national grid. But even more important than NEA subsidiaries have been local IPPs: Nepali companies which have over the past three decades enthusiastically entered the hydropower sector. From a regulatory perspective, the credit for mobilising domestic private investment to engage in power generation goes to Minister of Water Resources Shailaja Acharya, who in 1998 offered a flat feed-in-tariff of Rs4/kWh for hydropower projects under 10MW. This upfront offer removed a major barrier that early developers had faced of having to spend money to carry out a detailed feasibility study before they could even start tariff negotiations with NEA. She had laid the foundation stone of the Chilime project, and proved to be the champion of opening up the sector for domestic IPPs. The guarantee of a PPA with a fixed tariff, irrespective of project specifications, gave small power developers the confidence to apply for survey licenses and invest in feasibility studies so they could directly approach commercial banks and make a case for their project producing required revenue to repay loans. Domestic IPPs started adding power to the national grid in 2002. Their contribution was initially modest, and first projects were small and commercial lenders who took time to be confident about providing debt financing to a sector which had previously not been considered suitable for private sector investment. While the first 10 years were slow, with less than 10MW being added to the grid each year, this increased twenty fold over the following ten years, resulting in the equivalent of a Baby Arun being added by Nepali IPPs to the grid each year. A total of 84 IPPs added 232MW, 328 MW, 454MW, and 400MW of new generation to the grid in 2021-2024 (graph). There was explosive, exponential growth as domestic developers have surged ahead to account for 76% of the new megawatts added to the grid since 2020, compared to 24% by NEA and its subsidiary companies. The megawatts that IPPs are adding have followed the classic ‘hockey stick curve’ with the ‘breakout point’, signaling the rapid growth phase in 2020. Private producers are expected to accelerate new generation in the coming years with 300 solar and hydropower projects adding 11,000MW. Another 166 hydropower and 96 solar projects are currently in the survey stage, and are in line to add another 11,000MW to the construction pipeline. One major challenge is finding financing required for the projects. Domestic investment will no longer be sufficient to finance this ambitious pipeline of renewable energy projects. Project developers as well as NEA and the Electricity Regulatory Commission will have to leverage their substantial experience accumulated through the construction of over 200 projects to attract regional and international investment and hedge the risks of dollar-denominated PPAs. Following the cancellation of Baby Arun, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Nepal developed a highly distributed power sector</a>. The national electricity grid is currently supplied with power from a remarkably decentralised array of hundreds of hydropower and solar photovoltaic projects spread across 43 districts and all seven provinces.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1228" height="867" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  This presents a sharp contrast to the pathway of a few large public sector hydropower projects with a sprinkling of private sector projects that was envisioned as part of NEA’s investment planning when Baby Arun was being considered the front runner for investment. The strategy then was to allow public sector investment in a few large hydropower projects with thermal plants to fill the gap. Knowing what we know now about acceleration of climate change impacts and increased extreme weather events, following this path would have made Nepal’s power sector highly vulnerable. Decentralised generation greatly improves the resilience of Nepal’s power supply as damage to power plants in one part of the country need not affect other areas that have their own generation. Following the investment plan where over two thirds of the country’s power supply would have come from power plants on the Arun River, would have greatly imperiled Nepal’s energy security. All rivers in Nepal are susceptible to flooding from cloudbursts made more frequent by climate change. The Arun River which is fed by glaciers in Tibet is also at risk to glacial lake outburst floods. Bikash Pandey is Director of Clean Energy and Circular Economy at Winrock International. People Power is his regular column in Nepali Times on global energy issues relevant to Nepal. <h2>Decentralised and Diversified</h2> In the 30 years since the cancellation of ‘Baby Arun’: Hydropower projects constructed cover capacities ranging from less than 1MW to 456MW and developed by IPPs from across the country with strong local involvement in purchasing equity shares. Renewable energy sources contributed to the generation mix through solar IPPs that further contribute to climate resilience, and cover shortfalls during low rainfall. The government is committed to solar contributing 10% of the power on the grid. Increasing solar beyond this target and providing incentives to project developers to invest in utility-scale battery storage would further improve resilience. BIG ARUN: The 900MW Arun III project under construction since 2018 at Num in Sankhuwasabha (pictured, below) is a separate initiative by a different project developer using a different financing modality. The ‘Baby Arun’ version of Arun III was cancelled in 1995.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> </figure>

30 years after Baby Arun

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2fZXyjsE28" target="_blank">Yog Narendra Malla</a> became king at age 18, and ruled Patan from 1684-1705 — his reign marked by a cultural and architectural renaissance of the city state. He put up a statue of himself in the palace square with a little bronze bird sitting on the guardian serpent above his head. It is said he told his subjects that he would look after their welfare till the day the bird flew off. During<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu"> the 2015 earthquake</a>, the pedestal collapsed and the statue was damaged. The bird was lost, only to be located in a pile of debris and reinstated when the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/piece-by-piece-patan-darbar-square-reconstruction,3782" target="_blank">statue was consecrated</a> two years later. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/x2fZXyjsE28?si=jYfIb4p6zCLXYQ1T" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> History remembers Yog Narendra Malla as a wise king, but like most<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home"> royalty of the day</a>, he had a weakness for women. He is supposed to have consorted with 30 queens and numerous concubines. At least 33 of them self-immolated themselves on the king's funeral pyre when he died, adhering to the prevailing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Jhola,947">practice of sati</a>. When Yog Narendra Malla’s favourite queen found out that he was carrying on with yet another woman, she got the local community of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood to stage a shadow sex play to quite literally expose his unfaithfulness. Actors enacted the explicit exploits of the king and his mistress, a bright butter lamp projecting the moving shadows of their lovemaking on a thin white drape to entertain those gathered in the square below. The queen made sure that the show was designed to face the home of the king’s paramour to shame them both. She also paid for a group to chant a bhajan with lyrics that ridiculed the king’s extramarital affair. The Jhyalcha Guthi community trust that the queen set up three-and-half century ago is still active to this day, and performs the annual shadow play in the same building in Kwelachhi the day before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra">Indra Jatra </a>every year. This year’s show is on Friday evening, 5 September. The opening lines of the chants that accompany the play are the same words approved by the queen all those years ago: “Raja Yog Narendra ya aparadh…” (King Yog Narendra’s crime…) The community leader of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood, 62-year-old Baburaja Awale, explains the importance of the event: “This Jhyalcha is our<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303"> intangible heritage</a> and oral history. We do not have a written format, it has been passed down from generation to generation. Every word of the bhajan is the story of King Yog Narendra Malla.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1167" loading="lazy" alt="Sex and the city of Patan"> <figcaption>The statue of Yog Narendra Malla being reinstated after it toppled in the 2015 earthquake. Photo: GOPEN RAI/ NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Jhyalcha Pyankha, as the ceremony is called, starts with a puja for the Bhimsen — the god of wealth and prosperity, a popular <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-homecoming-of-nepal-s-gods">deity in Patan</a> who has a temple dedicated just to him in the palace square. This is immediately followed by a bhajan of Bhairab performed with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-house,670">traditional Newa musical instruments</a>. Community members serve snacks consisting of samay baji beaten rice, water buffalo chunks, soybean, green veggies, lentils, ginger, garlic and aila liquor. “In the first act of the shadow play, the man initiates the lovemaking, and in the third it is the woman,” says Laxmi Lal Awale, also a member of the trust that organises the show. The shadow action is all uncensored, but interspersed with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">scenes of everyday life</a>: the woman is spinning a thread, the king is going about his royal chores, and the two sit down to share sanacha fermented pickle that is popular this time of year. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qZ3twuG1wNQ?si=yRfkoC3A-X9cIl8r" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> “Back then, there was no tv, films or YouTube, and yet we managed to stage the shadow play using our own resourcefulness,” says Baburaja Awale. “It is important to continue the tradition.” The challenge now is to ensure that the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain"> younger generation takes over</a>, learning the lyrics of the ancient bhajan. The dafa khala group that performs all over Patan during festivals and religious events is now training teenagers to play the musical instruments and act in the shadow play. The Jhyalcha was staged even after the 2015 earthquake when the falcha where the bhajan is performed collapsed and they made-do in a tin shed. The structure was later rebuilt with a grant from the group, Photo Circle. Lalitpur Metropolitan City sets aside a budget of Rs50,000 to organise the Jhyalcha Pyankha every year, but this is not enough and is supplemented by individual donations. The performers including musicians and actors are all volunteers, and take part in it because it is their community duty. The erotic shadow play was way ahead of its time, not just in its graphic content but the use of contemporary local technology as well as improvisation and pure imagination. Says Laxmi Lal: “Whatever its origin in the legend of King Yog Narendra Malla and his queen, Jhyalcha also served as a medium of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lets-talk-about-it">sex education</a>. In the past, women were discouraged from watching the shadow play, but today everyone is welcome, we all watch it together.” Jhyalcha Pyankha Kwelachhi, Chyasal, Patan 7PM onwards Friday, 5 September

Sex and the city of Patan

This is the 72nd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father ran a store and that is where I spent all my time till Grade 6. Doing my homework. Serving customers. I then moved to my maternal grandparents’ house because I used to get along with my cousin who was a year older than me. We did everything together, and were best friends. We took turns studying: I was a night owl, and he was an early riser. Before I went to bed after studying all night, I woke him up. My mother was 44 when I was born, the same year my eldest brother got married. My sister-in-law becoming a part of our family was how my mother referenced my age. I liked making money, and was always a hustler. In Grade 7, I learnt to handle a tractor and helped my brother-in-law to plough, earning Rs10 a day. As I got better, he paid me more. By Grade 9, I was already making Rs500 per day, but had to slow down to prepare for my exams. From an early age I knew I did not want a 9-5 job. There just wasn’t enough money in it. I wanted to get into business, and compared my brother who worked in the post office and what businessmen made. It did not help that my brother was honest, and never took bribes. A friend and I made money selling cheap Chinese phones at a premium to our friends. We blasted music on the phones and pretended that we were giving them a discount. After SLC, I started teaching math and other subjects. I was soon a shareholder in the same school and in the evening I was involved in our family’s floriculture business, growing amaranth and marigold for garlands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="955" height="1314" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  It was then that a friend suggested we learn the Korean language. We could be earning significantly higher in Korea for similar efforts. I had no plans to go abroad but he convinced me. I did not know anything about Korea, and was scolded at the language institute when I asked someone to point Korea on the map.&nbsp; It was only there that I learnt you had to pass an exam for the Korean Employment Permit System (EPS), and pay for language classes. After a week, I decided it was not for me and dropped out. But my friend convinced me to give it one more try. I did not prepare much for the exam, and it was no surprise that I failed. But it was just by one mark, and people would pity me for failing “just by one mark”. It was a brand of failure. It hurt my ego. I had to turn things around by taking the exams seriously, and locked myself up to study hard.&nbsp; Even when we had visitors, my wife told them I was not home. If I was not in my room learning Korean, I would be with a group of ten of us test-takers comparing notes and practicing late into the night. The exam was difficult, but this time I passed, the only one in my group who did.&nbsp; As someone who never liked the idea of doing a job, I still had my doubts about going to Korea. It did not help that one of my acquaintances had returned a month after he had left, and he discouraged me from migrating given that I was already making good money in Nepal.&nbsp; But my wife suggested that I give it a shot since I had worked so hard for it. And if it really turned out not to be my cup of tea, I could always return. What did I have to lose, I thought, at least I would get to visit Korea. My job there was in an electrical company that made circuit boards. I worked all day, earned good money. In the evenings, I kept myself busy with my real estate business back in Nepal. I had learnt the tricks of the trade from fellow real estate agents back home, but at the time did not have the capital to invest.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  In Korea, it helped that I had salary records that allowed me to get loans from financial institutions both in Korea and in Nepal. Ultimately, I started earning more from my real estate deals in Nepal than from my job in Korea. This was all thanks to my ability to take loans because of the EPS scheme. My wife has been managing the flower business while I was away. My finances grew stronger over the eight years I was in Korea. I paid off the loans that I had borrowed to buy land. But real estate did not satisfy me entirely. I wondered: what is my brand? What will I be known for? What is my contribution to society? Real estate is for wealth, but that is about it. I needed to sell one piece of land and use the revenue to start a venture. I took classes in business, and returned to Nepal six months ago and got back to my family’s ancestral roots in floriculture. In Nepal too, I am continuing the entrepreneurship training I had started in Korea with the Bridge International. Such exposure helps us reflect on our business such as our branding, vision, and proactive aspects like the importance of strong recordkeeping.&nbsp; I am now working to upgrade and expand my floriculture business. With a friend who is still in Korea I am building a cooling room to increase the shelf-life of flowers and other produce and set up a market in my village where others can sell their produce. Floriculture is our primary business, but it is seasonal and earns good money only during festivals like Tihar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  So, I grow tomatoes to ensure year-round earnings. I also am engaged in other businesses like real estate and online shopping. I work round the clock in Nepal — a strong work ethic is something I picked up in Korea.&nbsp; My Korean bosses would work alongside us, that motivated us. I work just as hard in Nepal as I did in Korea. People here often ask me why I am pushing myself so hard. But making garlands comes easy to me, it is work my forebears were involved in. My childhood memories are about plucking flowers with my sister. I have a comparative advantage in this work. It comes naturally to me, it is easy and I enjoy it. And sometimes, if there are too many garlands to make, I can multitask while holding meetings. My fingers just fly. I am good at this job, but my wife is even better and faster.&nbsp; When there is too much load, we can also outsource the work. To be known as the flower guy would be great personal branding. The मखमली guy. Or the सयपत्री guy. I decided to come home for just this with a one-way ticket. “अब पासा: जाँदैन ल्हासा!” &nbsp;