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

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

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

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.