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

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Why Nepal is stuck

Despite the contemporary narrative that Nepalis are giving up on their country and are migrating in droves, a recent public opinion poll shows that nearly half the Nepalis are still positive about the direction the country has been going since the last election in 2022. Asked if they feel that the situation has worsened, improved, or remained the same in the past two years, 45.4% of the respondents in the nationwide survey said they were satisfied about the way Nepal is headed. Of them, 13.9% of respondents said they were ‘significantly positive’, while 31.5% said they were ‘somewhat positive’ about the situation in Nepal over the past two years. Although 34.6% of those answering the question believed that the socio-political situation in the country was ‘unchanged’ since 2022, Sharecast Initiative in its analysis of the results, said there was ‘a notable sense of optimism about the current state of affairs’. Even so, about 18% felt the situation was either ‘significantly negative’ or ‘somewhat negative’. And most respondents (35%) felt there had been no change in the country’s situation in the past two years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241201111212_f1ec1009533e9c1e6847672142da4688694159bb5ff0e5dc9088007cb6d995a1.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241201111212_f1ec1009533e9c1e6847672142da4688694159bb5ff0e5dc9088007cb6d995a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1192" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis not so unhappy"> </figure>  “If we count those who say ‘no change’ as not being satisfied and add that to those who had a negative view of the way the country is going, then we have 55% of the people not happy,” says Madhu Acharya of the research organisation Sharecast Initiative Nepal, which conducts annual public opinion polls. Still, 45% of the people being positive means the national mood is not as pervasively cynical and despondent as Nepal’s public sphere believes it is. Even more unexpected, and also contrary to prevailing perceptions, is that disaggregated data of the responses showed that the level of optimism is highest among young Nepalis, especially women. It was also higher, not surprisingly, among those in the higher income brackets. A higher percentage of female respondents (15.6%) thought Nepal’s current situation was ‘signficantly positive’ while only 12% of males felt that way. More men (11.5%) also had a ‘negative’ view of the past two years, compared to only 7% of women feeling the same way. Provincewise, most of those surveyed in Bagmati and Gandaki said there had been no change, while in the Madhes Province respondents held strong views with 26.5% saying they were ‘signficantly positive’ and 15.7% feeling things are ‘signficantly negative’ — both positive and negative responses were higher in Madhes than any other province. Because Nepal’s migration pattern is blurring the lines between city folk and those residing in villages, the level of positivity was at equal levels in both urban and rural areas of the country, with nearly half the respondents in both areas feeling ‘somewhat’ and ‘significantly’ positive about their circumstances. Literacy appears to play a significant role in determining satisfaction with the state of affairs. Generally, those with higher education were happier than those with less education. Illiterate respondents had the most negative view about their status. Even though understanding among media commentators is that Nepali youth are frustrated and cannot wait to leave the country, the survey showed that 54% of those in the 18-24 age group were either ‘somewhat’ or ‘significantly’ positive about the state of things. In general the older people are, the less happy they seem to be about the way things are. The survey results showed that even though those with higher incomes are generally more satisfied, one-tenth of them felt ‘significantly negative’ about the way things are going in Nepal. The scientific poll was conducted face-to-face earlier this year among 4,267 respondents from all seven provinces and three ecological zones. Nearly 70 supervisors and enumerators fanned out across the country to interview Nepalis selected by domicile, gender, walks of life, socio-economic strata, ethnicity in the ratio of their representation in the population. Most Nepalis see progress in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/beijing-30-zak6iu1w">gender equality</a>, but cite problems: 1. Violence against women 2. Lack of say within households 3. Political representation 4. Societal restraints  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241201111224_faf741ca7a1187cb971b468eca573c8c3ee756f585d6a72e0dc1bd99114f4088.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241201111224_faf741ca7a1187cb971b468eca573c8c3ee756f585d6a72e0dc1bd99114f4088" data-rendition-name="original" width="6720" height="4480" loading="lazy" alt="gender equality"> </figure>  As the world marks 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence from 25 November–10 December, a recent public opinion poll in Nepal has shown that both men and women respondents place ‘safety from violence’ as their number one concern. Asked ‘What are the primary issues facing women in Nepal today?’ more than one-third of the respondents felt it was safety and security. Both genders – and especially younger respondents -- identified protection from violence as the main problem facing Nepali women. Geographically, people in Bagmati, Sudurpaschim and Madhes prioritised safety as of women as their main concern.&nbsp; Societal restraints against women was seen as the second-most important problem, especially in regions of the country considered to have more entrenched patriarchal norms like the Karnali. ‘Lack of household decision-making’ was the third main issue respondents said women in Nepal face, and this was especially pronounced in rural areas. It could be a significant pointer to the feminisation of Nepal’s hinterland, with the outmigration mainly of young men from households.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241201111216_79f09832d11b27679a1cbeb8a8f9189d28afdd3b91a52df4c143d876e23d06f8.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241201111216_79f09832d11b27679a1cbeb8a8f9189d28afdd3b91a52df4c143d876e23d06f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1420" height="858" loading="lazy" alt="gender equality in Nepal"> <figcaption>All graphs: SHARECAST DATA INITIATIVE, THE STORY KITCHEN</figcaption> </figure>  This was among seven questions asked in a recent nationwide survey ‘General Perceptions of Gender Issues in Nepal’ by Sharecast Data Initiative and the Story Kitchen. The poll was conducted by enumerators in face-to-face interviews with 4,267 respondents selected for a balanced representation of Nepal’s population.&nbsp; In answer to questions if Nepal has been making progress on gender equality, most respondents had positive outlook about female representation, constitutional and legal safeguards and cultural norms. Asked about Nepal’s socio-political and cultural changes affecting women, nearly 62% had a positive response while about 15% said they had noticed no change and about 16% said the country was moving in a negative direction. Younger respondents of both genders, urban residents and those with higher education and income levels tended to have a more optimistic view about socio-political and cultural changes that affected women.&nbsp; In response to a question about new constitutional and legal provisions safeguarding women’s rights and gender equality, nearly three-quarter of respondents (both men and women) felt they had benefited women. Only about 10% felt the laws had negatively affected women.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241201111216_b359ef289ca228753e83564c3d5a278c650aa8a13dff93a2d49fffff7305646c.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241201111216_b359ef289ca228753e83564c3d5a278c650aa8a13dff93a2d49fffff7305646c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1212" height="804" loading="lazy" alt="gender equality in Nepal"> </figure>  Again, it was younger men and women, city-dwellers and better educated people who were more optimistic. In its analysis of the results, Sharecast says: ‘However, there are areas of concern, particularly among less educated and lower income groups, indicating a need for targeted interventions to address these disparities.’&nbsp; In response to the question about which areas Nepali women have not yet received equal opportunities with men, a surprising 35% said they could not answer, while 20% felt there was no inequality anymore.&nbsp; But among those who said there was inequality, the highest number (12.8%) said it was within in the household. Almost as many cited unequal representation in politics, while education, high-paying jobs and protection from violence were also of concern to respondents.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241201111220_59198bf078425a63f4a27fe6f6910170fd22ded6da77824de2bdd3c5ebbb337a.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241201111220_59198bf078425a63f4a27fe6f6910170fd22ded6da77824de2bdd3c5ebbb337a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1430" height="928" loading="lazy" alt="gender equality in Nepal"> </figure>  More men (16.3%) cited unequal political representation, while only 9.5% of women respondents felt that was an issue and they pointed to not having enough say within the household (13.7%) as their main concern. Asked about the problems faced by Nepal’s men, the highest number of respondents (27%) said men had ‘no problems’, and a significant number (14.4%) said they had no idea. Most of those who chose to answer (15.4%) said it was lack of jobs and wages.&nbsp; To a question about the problems faced by adolescent girls and boys, substance abuse and mental health topped the list (22.7%), while violence against girls (21.3%) and education came next. Nearly 30% said they didn’t know or couldn’t say.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241201111220_a5ea2454f1462a05a50730a51450ffe99b06b53f58bf5e3db3414ca14338cabf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241201111220_a5ea2454f1462a05a50730a51450ffe99b06b53f58bf5e3db3414ca14338cabf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1710" height="1050" loading="lazy" alt="gender equality in Nepal"> </figure>

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Nepalis not so unhappy

More than 2.5 million Nepalis left the country just in the last three years to study and work abroad. In the past year alone, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/push-factors-driving-nepalis-out">nearly 900,000 students and migrant workers flew out of Kathmandu airport</a>. These figures do not include those who crossed over to India.&nbsp;
There were, of course, returnees in that period, but it is estimated that up to 16% of Nepal’s population at any given time is outside the country. Most of them are 20-35 years old, which means an estimated q<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-demographic-window-is-closing">uarter of all Nepalis in that age group are abroad</a>.&nbsp;
It is mandatory for students going overseas to get a certificate from the Ministry of Education, and last year alone 112,593 were issued -- nearly double the pre-Covid figure (graph, below).
Before leaving, Nepali students officially exchanged Rs117 billion last year into hard currency to pay for their education costs. The actual figure through unregulated channels is probably higher.
<div class="embed-block"><iframe title="MORE NO OBJECTIONS" aria-label="Column Chart" id="datawrapper-chart-OBL1y" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/OBL1y/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="600" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script>All graphs: RAMESH KUMAR</div>
<div class="embed-block"><iframe title="$ in, $ out" aria-label="Column Chart" id="datawrapper-chart-gUPnY" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/gUPnY/4/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="600" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div>
Meanwhile, the 4 million <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/the-migration-myth">Nepali migrant workers</a> in Malaysia, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, UAE, Kuwait, Korea, Europe and elsewhere sent back through banking channels Rs1.47 trillion in remittances ($11 billion) last year. Actual figures are higher.
“The great irony is that while poorer Nepalis toil in the Gulf and Malaysia to increase our foreign exchange reserves, middle and upper class families are exchanging a part of that money to pay for college fees, travel and medical care abroad,” points out migration researcher Ganesh Gurung.
The numbers going to Australia and Canada dropped last year because of visa restrictions. But that has been more than made up by a 30% uptick in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">Nepali students</a> going to the US (11,261) and UK (13,339) compared to last year.
But by far the largest number of students are going to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/why-nepalis-are-flocking-to-okinawa">Japan</a> (34,731) which is also an increase of 30% over the previous year (map, below). Numbers going to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/yo-man-ta-mero-nepali-ho">South Korea</a> doubled in one year to 6,889.&nbsp;
Nepalis go to 66 countries for higher studies, with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/looking-for-the-nepali-dream">Denmark</a>, Finland and France becoming more popular, although the numbers are still much lower than the top six.
Till recently, Nepalis were the third largest number of foreign students in Australia. They were number three also in Canada. Nepalis were among the top ten in the US.
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It is no secret that many young Nepalis leaving on student visas <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-certificate">intend to emigrate permanently</a>.&nbsp;
Countries in the Global North experiencing declining populations know this, but find it a convenient way to allow controlled entry for much-needed workers in the service or tech sectors.
“Many young Nepalis plan to settle in first-world countries eventually, or to return only after 10-20 years,” affirms migration expert Ganesh Gurung.&nbsp;
“Destination countries benefit too, they are getting a new generation of cheap labour without having spent anything on raising or educating them. What’s more, they also earn university fees. It’s a way for them to allow calibrated migration,” he adds.
Nearly half the students coming out of 10+2 schools opt to go <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Between-the-lines/More-Nepali-students-settle-overseas,528">abroad for higher education</a>, leading to a significant drop in college enrolment across Nepal.&nbsp;
Just like migrant workers are a safety valve that lets the government off the hook from providing jobs at home, students going abroad allows the state to dodge its responsibility to improve higher education quality here.&nbsp;
Indeed, some argue that better universities and colleges in Nepal would not lessen the exodus of young Nepalis, because many of them intend to emigrate for good.&nbsp;
“Yes, student visas have become a means to an end, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/hardworking-students">the goal is to work and settle</a>,” says Narottam Aryal of King’s College in Kathmandu. “But more alarming than the figures of students leaving is that we are taking it so casually, calling it normal."&nbsp;
He adds: “Let us not worry about people who will leave anyway, but focus on the students who will stay if Nepal’s higher education is system is redesigned, repurposed and reformed to foster an entrepreneurial mindset so they benefit the country.”&nbsp;
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The method of education in state-run colleges and universities are still stuck in the era of rote learning taught by under-motivated teachers using outdated curricula, regurgitating memorised answers at exam time. The university environment is politicised and there are frequent disruptions with delayed exam results.
One way to change this is twinning with international universities, but for this there has to be a less xenophobic and transparent government machinery that is open to new methods.
“Accreditations, partnerships and exchanges with institutions around the world will open up opportunities for students,” says Aryal. “The government should welcome foreign universities, they will force us to raise the standard of our education.”
Information technology and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/grass-is-greener-overseas-for-nepals-doctors">medicine</a> are among the most lucrative options for Nepali students abroad. Institutions of higher learning in Nepal itself could specialise in inter-disciplinary liberal arts, social studies, agriculture and the environment, public health, hospitality, or heritage studies.&nbsp;
Youth are also leaving because there is no guarantee of jobs even when they get a higher degree here. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/brain-drain-into-brain-gain">The informal sector</a> is still the biggest employer, and job options in private companies and civil service are limited.&nbsp;
Ganesh Gurung says the education sector must adapt to the changing labour market such that Nepal produces skilled human resources in the areas with high demand like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nursing-grievances-against-the-state">nursing</a>.
He adds, “The focus must be on our strengths. The economy can be revived by making the best use of Nepal’s natural beauty to generate jobs in the hospitality industry, and turn it into a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/go-away">destination for international retirees</a>.”&nbsp;

Sonia Awale

Brain gain into brain drain

After graduation Danber Maden was working as an accountant and in his spare time practising his passion for sketching. Wanting to adapt his talent to digital design, he joined a new course at Bhanu Jana Secondary School here. Today, Maden is a mentor for new students at what has become the IT Academy, Taplejung. The 24-year-old is now juggling various online design gigs with companies worldwide, and earning much more than he did as an accountant. “I’m learning 3D design and motion graphics, animation from YouTube,” says Maden, sitting in the spacious Academy on the grounds of the secondary school. Light-coloured walls, extra high ceilings and a wide wooden staircase give the building a bright touch. Nearby is a group working area fronting the wood-panelled Pernille’s Coffee Bar. It is named after Pernille Madsen, founder of Human Practice Foundation (HPF), a Danish NGO that has been supporting schools and their communities in Taplejung since 2017.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240728130728_9c530879e791f54e0ea3de2c78efe7cf68add4935b663f7f7b2dc1e52ce0dd71.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240728130728_9c530879e791f54e0ea3de2c78efe7cf68add4935b663f7f7b2dc1e52ce0dd71" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="IT Academy Taplejung NT 3"> <figcaption>Photo: MARTY LOGAN</figcaption> </figure>  Launched in 2014, HPF also runs programmes in Denmark and Kenya.&nbsp; Donor Waldemar Schmidt says he and his Academy co-founders wanted to give students at HPF-supported schools in the district another option after graduating.&nbsp; “Some years ago I started thinking, ‘what happens to the children when they leave the school? Have we done the job of giving the children a better future’? The simple answer was ‘no, I don’t think we have—we need to do more’,” he says in a Zoom interview from Denmark. The Academy opened in November 2023. To date, 61 students have graduated and 14 are working online, says Bhanu Jana’s head teacher Kishor Kumar Rai. Some are working for companies in Singapore, Denmark and South Korea.&nbsp; “They are earning more money here than doing other work so they are happy to stay in Taplejung,” adds Rai. “The Academy will stop migration and also the brain drain of youth.” A new, six-month session on graphic design and digital marketing started in June. Besides the technical component, students also learn the skills needed to become successful online freelancers, such as writing offers and negotiating contracts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240728140712_918f5db890b05fe967117391d621bce6eafc41652323ec4eb3f8782a4f300bcc.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240728140712_918f5db890b05fe967117391d621bce6eafc41652323ec4eb3f8782a4f300bcc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1010" height="556" loading="lazy" alt="IT Academy Taplejung NT 2"> </figure>  By 2028, HPF aims to have graduated up to 800 digital workers in courses that include web development and cyber-security in Levels 2 and 3. Graduates of Level 1 will need to pay tuition for advanced courses and prove that they are already earning as freelancers, explains Schmidt. “We don’t want to be known as a place that does a bit of everything. We want to build a brand which is very strong in graphic design and cyber security,” he adds. A former CEO, Schmidt knew HPF founder Madsen from the corporate world. Today he is the driving force behind the IT Academy, as quick to recite the latest facts and figures as he is to share a vision for the next decade. Schmidt estimates that after graduating from Level 1 students will have the potential to earn $500 a month, compared to the $200 locals make working in banks and other offices. After taking Level 2 and 3 courses in graphic design and cyber security, earnings will rise to $1,000-2,000 monthly, he predicts. &nbsp; HPF now subsidises tuition, leaving students to pay 15%, or about Rs 5,000, of the cost of the courses. Schmidt says donors in his personal network have covered the remaining amount (about $500 per student) for the first 100 students this year. For the next session he hopes sponsors will chip in $1,500 per student, enough to also buy each one a laptop. An enthusiastic, well-connected former CEO, the 84-year-old Schmidt has also called on his network to take on graduates in their firms as interns, and convinced WorldLink to provide the Academy with fibre-optic Internet at no cost. Developing students’ skills so that they are competitive globally will also happen gradually, says Schmidt, in part because of English-language skills. In the beginning, the Academy will focus on work experience in Asia. Already it has arranged virtual internships in companies in Singapore, Vietnam and Indonesia. The Academy’s 10-point manifesto is also training women students who can continue working as freelancers while raising families. Women make up 60% of students, and head of the Academy Basanta Palungwa says female students design more creatively, in part because they are more patient.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072814074_ab971ae77232481761249c23b7e88584ac303fa39fb448ddbaf9b9fde0676f86.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024072814074_ab971ae77232481761249c23b7e88584ac303fa39fb448ddbaf9b9fde0676f86" data-rendition-name="original" width="2290" height="1407" loading="lazy" alt="IT Academy Taplejung NT 1"> </figure>  The Academy also aims to digitise and engage the community in this remote corner of north-eastern Nepal. Plans include a course for the general public on using smartphones and tablets, and WorldLink will soon install wifi hotspots. Also in the planning stage is vocational training for those who are not inclined to IT. HPF-supported secondary schools in Taplejung are graduating about 1,000 students a year, but the IT Academy will be able to accommodate less than half of them. Says Schmidt: “They may be frustrated because they’ve been to a good school and they see no future after graduating, so we need to make sure that there’s a link to the labour market.” After graduating, Danber Maden’s freelance work now includes four hours daily for Bookmundi, a Denmark based travel agency. After interning there for one year he was recently promoted to Junior Graphic Designer.&nbsp; For the past year he has also been designing social media posts for GenX Pharmacy, an online business based in Kathmandu. And he has local clients, including candidates who ran in the last elections. The local boy seems to have found his niche online. Asked what he sees himself doing in 10 years, Maden responds confidently: “Senior designer or art director.”

Going global to retain local talent

As the well-known adage goes: you can choose your friends but not your neighbours. There is no alternative to learning to live together. Relations between neighbours in a housing estate or nation states is (or should be) dependent on long term bilateral interest, not instantaneous calculations. Nowhere is relations between nations become more of an everyday issue than in the borderlands. And how multidimensional relations between countries are managed and nurtured should be the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-rubbish-memorising-gibberish">message in school textbooks</a>. Afterall, the foundations of knowledge and values are laid in school and in the books used to teach them. In most countries the content of textbooks is determined by the state, in fact it is an official document reflecting a country’s position on various facets of citizenship. Textbooks determine a person’s views on a cross border state.&nbsp; I have recently been leafing through the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/delay-dilute-deny"> Social Studies textbooks</a> for Grades 9 (pictured, below) and 10 published by the Ministry of Education, Science and Technology’s Curriculum Development Board at Sano Thimi. Imagine my astonishment when in the Grade 9 chapter on ‘Nation and Nationalism’ was this sentence in the section titled Border Security (translated from Nepali): ‘An open border opens up the possibility of increased human trafficking and drug smuggling. In fact, an open border can poison relations between people and even lead to war.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240717080732_a0492a1be8aaa76b0a90985f0c8ebf85874f53fd9e328d09aef9b614aa29cb84.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240717080732_a0492a1be8aaa76b0a90985f0c8ebf85874f53fd9e328d09aef9b614aa29cb84" data-rendition-name="original" width="1074" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali textbook social studies NT"> <figcaption>Social Studies textbook for grade 9.</figcaption> </figure>  Similarly, a section titled ‘Nepal’s Friends and Agencies’ talks about Nepal being a landlocked country situated between India and China, &nbsp;without indicating that these two neighbours of Nepal are global economic heavyweights. Whatever the text book may say about the dangers of an open border, all <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/barbwire-borders">national frontiers should be as open as the one between India and Nepal</a>. Nepal has had a similar open border with Tibet for centuries.&nbsp; Officially, a country’s relation with its neighbour is marked by when diplomatic relations were established. But there is no such date with which we can pinpoint how long Nepal’s relations with India and Tibet (now an autonomous region of China) has existed. Nepal’s school textbooks fail to impart on students the importance of the country’s relations with these two vast and powerful neighbours. Instead of establishing a narrative that an open border is the ultimate symbol of strong and close ties between countries, Nepali textbooks give it an unhelpful negative connotation. By contract, Nepal’s trans-Himalayan border with China is limited and controlled. Citizens of both countries need passports and visas to enter the other. From time to time, some Tibetans do enter Nepal bypassing official checkpoints.&nbsp; The Nepal-India border on the other hand is open because of mutual agreement, friendship, good neighbourliness, religious and cultural diversity, social cohesion, family relations, and common geographical features on both sides.&nbsp; These economic, cultural, political and historical aspects of the open border should have been incorporated into Nepal’s text books. On the other hand, the books should also have explained the reason why the Nepal-China border has not been open since the annexation of Tibet 65 years ago. The content of the Social Studies text book reflects state neglect. A border is not the result of the wishes of a country on one side, it is the common meeting point of nations. Because the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/lessons-not-learnt-homework-not-done">examination system </a>requires students to memorise and regurgitate content of textbooks, a teacher cannot deviate from what it says even if it is incorrect. A secondary school teacher regards the textbook as the curriculum. A text book’s content therefore does not just impact the point of view of students, but also teachers. More than disinformation on social media, it is the half-truths and false notions in text books that are more dangerous. In fact, textbooks read like the declaration of the political party in power. This is a result of the curriculum drafters not being inclusive and representative of Nepal’s diversity.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-exceptional-buhari">The Exceptional Buhari</a>, Sudeshna Thapa This can bring about a tectonic shift in the thought process of young Nepalis, evoke a sense of animosity towards neighbours and ‘others’. In a country where political polarisation, ideological divide is already wide, such assertiveness by the dominant community can be sensitive.&nbsp; Textbooks cannot be propaganda, they cannot be a vehicle to establish a political narrative. They should heal and unite. Students need to learn and understand <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-love-triangle-with-china-and-india-impacts-investment">Nepal’s fragile geopolitical circumstance</a>, and not be exhorted to rock the boat. There is a common socio-cultural milieu that is transboundary because of our shared history and politics. Nepal’s youth need to have a moderate and balanced view of the history, geography and cultural links of the borderlands so they can contribute to cooperation and coexistence.&nbsp; Chandra Kishore is a Birganj-based media commentator and writes this monthly column Borderlines for Nepali Times. @kishore_chandra

Chandra Kishore

Textbook case of bad textbooks

Humla is in the remote northwestern corner of Nepal. And in a remote corner within Humla district is Limi Valley. Culturally, linguistically and even geologically, this is the Tibetan Plateau, and Limi’s 2,000 inhabitants are facing the threat of cultural erosion and outmigration of its young people. Now, however, local schools are trying to change that by ensuring quality education not only so that local children do not have to go to faraway boarding schools, but also to attract students from other parts of Humla. The Aatmiya Shree Sunkhani Basic School in the village of Halji has Tibetan language classes and tries to instil pride in students about their local culture. It has also invested in better dormitories and other facilities so the school does not have to close in the winter months because of the extreme cold there at 3,700m elevation. Following the construction, the school hopes to revamp the quality of instruction, and change the focus of curriculum to address the challenges of heritage loss and outmigration. Limi Valley is the location of the 1,100-year-old Rinchenling Monastery and represents the cultural soul of Upper Humla. It has enormous potential for pilgrim tourism because of the proximity to the sacred Lake Mansarovar and Mt Kailash across the border in China. Limi has three villages: Til, Halji, and Zhang, and they each had a school till five years ago but they closed down because of lack of students. The valley is only accessible by crossing the 5,000m Nyalu Pass, and its extreme remoteness translates into isolation, lack of jobs and opportunities. Most young people have migrated to Kathmandu, or to Purang across the border in China. What is left in Limi are the elderly, and children separated from parents. “Only grandmothers are left in the community,” says Anjila Thapa of Aatmiya. Humla’s children are growing up in Kathmandu or abroad and losing touch with their culture. Aatmiya is a Nepal-based sister organisation of CITTA, a non-profit seeking to bring healthcare, education, and economic development to the most remote and underserved communities in Nepal and India. It was founded by American artist Michael Daube, whose love for anthropology and Buddhism led him to work in the region. CITTA runs a Women’s Economic Development Centre, hospitals, and schools in Jaisalmer and Odisha in India, and also manages a hospital in Sindhuli. Aatmiya (which means ‘intimate’ in Nepali) was started in 2011 as a public-private partnership under which there are government teachers as well as those supported by the project. Earlier, schooling was not much more than “kids teaching kids”, says Daube, and government teachers were unwilling to travel to such remote parts of Humla and were mostly absent.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240616020616_4b1ba2f6d9f351d4d4e1b50607e1df85a2221444b0bae2b0eb5d1fcd7e865d75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240616020616_4b1ba2f6d9f351d4d4e1b50607e1df85a2221444b0bae2b0eb5d1fcd7e865d75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Limi Humla school"></figure>  Their unfamiliarity with the local language and culture also meant that schools were actually the reason for cultural erosion. Now, with its Community Centre housing for teachers and a free hostel for students, parents can feel more confident in their children’s education and accommodation year-round while keeping them in Limi. “Earlier, people in surrounding areas used to say Limi was poor and backward,” says Ward Chair Paljor Tamang. “Now, people say that if the school provides teachers and opportunities, children will come from other parts of Humla to study up here.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240616020616_23d9bf409f31a8d3ed559aa3ff2b11d0b8f7b315904242d1c9f20880503e3cb0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240616020616_23d9bf409f31a8d3ed559aa3ff2b11d0b8f7b315904242d1c9f20880503e3cb0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="Limi Humla school"></figure>  The school, centrally located in Dalji, is set to be inaugurated in September, with the construction of the site's main building nearly complete (pictured above). Even so, the push factors driving young people away may be too strong to halt outmigration. “Construction and hardware won’t bring students back,” admits Anjila Thapa, who wants to start additional teacher training before classes begin. The school is adding Tibetan language teachers, and Aatmiya also plans to introduce fellowships focusing on extracurricular activities and a holistic education. CITTA Country Director Sanjeev KC says the school’s success will not just be measured in maintaining student numbers, but increasing them by attracting those from the community currently studying in faraway Kathmandu. “Within the next five years, we hope to have 70 or 80 students,” says KC. “We identified the gaps in education and worked with the community to understand their needs. That is why we pooled our resources for a centrally located school.” There is now a need for a high school till SEE level, and the goal is to make its present Grade 7 the first graduating class. Daube wants Aatmiya to be more than just a school, but an effort to preserve the culture and local economy. The organisation recently began working with local women to produce and internationally market shuktu, traditional woollen blankets. When the Limi Valley School opens in September, it aims to prove that modern education and cultural preservation can go hand-in-hand. “Of those who have left Limi, many still own land and farms here”, says Tamang. “With adequate facilities and opportunities, we may see them return”.

Saving Humla from heritage loss

Aliya Bashar finished up her Grade 6 class exams and swiftly walked over to a room next door at her Kanya Mandir Secondary School in Kathmandu. Other students join in and together they offer namaz. This is an important time of year for Bashar, not only because of her annual exams but also because of the holy month of Ramadan. "It is a relief not to have to rush home for prayers at 1 pm," Bashar tells us later. "The school provides a space for namaz, making it easier for us to focus on exams." With a week left for the end of Ramadan, Muslims eat before dawn and fast throughout the day with afternoon prayers at 1pm. They break fast with a collective iftar feast after sunset. Recognising the challenges of its Muslim minority students, Kanya Mandir School provides a dedicated space for them to offer prayers immediately after the exams.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240402120448_48e2571556490b496061569a30d8935a7d358b2647feb0935d09cfbe2fb53cc4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240402120448_48e2571556490b496061569a30d8935a7d358b2647feb0935d09cfbe2fb53cc4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kanya Mandir Secondary School"> </figure>  "Having a prayer room makes everything easier,” says Salma Khatun, a Grade 8 student. "And the school also allows us to dress in clothes we are comfortable in.” The school’s inclusive environment has helped students like Bashar and Khatun thrive. They participate in sports wearing the hijab, something not possible at many other schools. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-column/moving-to-the-mainstream">Moving to the mainstream</a>, Chandra Kishore Jasmin Shaikh in Grade 7 says she faces no hate and discrimination at school. “Students of all religions are treated equally here,” she says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240402120448_7d674a06c7ebaf6e5a35f8d19595b55a9f5710bee41fb2243abd9a54a24422d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240402120448_7d674a06c7ebaf6e5a35f8d19595b55a9f5710bee41fb2243abd9a54a24422d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kanya Mandir Secondary School"> </figure>  Muskan Khatun says being allowed to wear the hijab in class makes her feel safe and supported. Khatun who is originally from India says she feels a sense of belonging at the school. “There are no restrictions here, even the school feels like home,” she says, smiling. The Kanya Mandir School’s commitment to inclusiveness extends beyond Ramadan, and extends to the cultural practices of students from all faiths, including Hindu, Buddhist and Christian.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240402120448_e2f7573555a66f363ec2927588488ac85b97bbf0d36fa5f95140eeb833c6ac73.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240402120448_e2f7573555a66f363ec2927588488ac85b97bbf0d36fa5f95140eeb833c6ac73" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kanya Mandir Secondary School"> </figure>  "The hijab does not hinder the students in any way," says Assistant Principal Bhagwan Babu Adhikari. “In fact, our top performers are girls from the Muslim community." The welcoming environment has boosted the school’s appeal, and some 245 of the 1,170 students at the school are from Nepal’s Muslim minority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240402120448_47c4d1d60e34acf8be892a28a643edb4eebb0f8b6d3c2887396072705dc2adcf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240402120448_47c4d1d60e34acf8be892a28a643edb4eebb0f8b6d3c2887396072705dc2adcf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kanya Mandir Secondary School"> </figure>  "School is where children develop compassion, tolerance, good behaviour," says Principal Ghanashyam Neupane. "We are simply trying to create an environment that fosters these values."&nbsp; This approach promotes respect for different religions, cultures, and traditions, inculcating a sense of camaraderie among students when young, he adds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240402120448_b14ec82030a573a5bf31ed7d4d2bdb8e46568c9fcd3020686261057632b1c014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240402120448_b14ec82030a573a5bf31ed7d4d2bdb8e46568c9fcd3020686261057632b1c014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kanya Mandir Secondary School"> </figure>  Nepal’s Tarai plains bordering India where there are more Muslims have more traditional madrasa schools which focus mainly on religious studies. Students say they prefer mainstream schools so it helps them get into good colleges.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepali-muslims-on-the-margins">Nepali Muslims on the margins</a>, Prakriti Kandel Not all madrasa have Nepal’s educational accreditation, and this limits career options for students. Many Muslim girls prefer public and private schools, but not all have a welcoming environment like Kanya Mandir.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240402120448_0cca122211c649b5c57cdad51fbbd2bc41d63abf55dbbd7f2007b21a93873d68.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240402120448_0cca122211c649b5c57cdad51fbbd2bc41d63abf55dbbd7f2007b21a93873d68" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="Kanya Mandir Secondary School"> </figure>  "We must uphold the constitutional rights of every child and ensure schools become inclusive spaces," says Seema Khan of the Muslim Mahila Kalyan Samaj. “They should follow Kanya Mandir’s example and adopt an inclusive education policy that reflects Nepal's rich social tapestry."

Inclusiveness not just theory in this school

Thick-framed glasses, a wide nose, and a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache. A front curl peeked out of his cap if he missed his haircut. He wore a full-sleeved shirt and cotton trousers.
His appearance was unremarkable, lacking the fashion sense of the stylish Dharan people of the day. He seemed like a tired, middle-aged man by the end of class, covered in chalk dust. He was easily overlooked until he spoke English because his English was impossible to ignore.
This man was dealing with a significant issue. He wanted to teach English in English, while we students preferred learning English in Nepali. His pronunciation was different from other English teachers, causing students to struggle to understand him. They started calling him Thoo Sir because they heard ‘to’ (/tu:/) as ‘thoo’ (ठू), but no one knows who first started this nickname or when it began. No one knew where he acquired his accent from, either.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/class-differences">Class differences</a>, Rabin Giri
Every morning, the bus would drop him off at Ghopali Tol from Dharan around 9AM, and he would walk 12 minutes to school from there. Students would have to interact with him in English or listen to a kind of English they could not understand.
I had heard his infamous nickname long before I attended Thulo School, the only secondary school in the village, after passing out from the primary Sano School.
He never inflicted any physical punishment on us, however his frustration was harder to handle. He would say things that friends could use to mock and tease fellow classmates.
Students would dread his presence in the classroom because unlike other teachers who would read slowly and explain in Nepali, he insisted on speaking English correctly and would not let us off the hook until we did so as well.
I only had him as a teacher in my Grade 10 class, and I remember being late on the very first day. "Mai commin, Sir?" I asked from the door.
"Ask properly," he replied, without even looking at me.
I asked again, but he continued cleaning the blackboard without paying any attention to me.
"Sir, Mai commin?" I changed the word order.
"Repeat after me," he instructed. That day, I learnt for the first time that 'Mai commin' was actually 'May I come in?'
"You don't even know basic English? Silly girl!" he said, and of course, my friends teased me for a long time about that.
His dissatisfaction with a student’s pronunciation silenced the class. While I was usually vocal and asked questions in other subjects, I could not utter a word in his class for fear of being ridiculed again.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator">Lowest common denominator</a>, Editorial
I would formulate questions in my mind but struggle to voice them. Sometimes, I would start in English and end up speaking in Nepali, which would upset him even more.
He would not engage in conversations in Nepali, preferring to explain things in English. His excessive use of English gave us all chronic headache.
One day, in the middle of class, I asked in Nepali, "Thoo Sir, my pad is leaking. I will go home, change, and come back in five minutes."
"What did you just say?" he asked in English, lowering his reading glasses, revealing a pair of tired eyes, and a bruise on the bridge of his nose caused by the weight of the frame.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month">Sanitary napkins</a> were not yet available, so we sisters would have to run to my nearby home to use one of our mother's old cotton saris as pads. But these were not absorbent enough for heavy bleeding. There was no door or roof in the school toilet, making it impossible to change at school.
I never felt embarrassed about asking to be excused, and neither the teachers nor students used to make a big deal out of it. Since he had responded to my Nepali, I assumed his 'WHAT?' was in response to my request to go home to change my pad.
I repeated my request, this time to assure him that I would return in exactly five minutes. But his "What did you just call me?" was actually about my publicly addressing him as “Thoo Sir”.&nbsp;
My bench-mate Bishal tried to warn me to keep quiet. But I continued, "Thoo sir. Everyone calls you Thoo sir behind your back. Don't you know?"
"I know but no one said it to my face before."
Quickly correcting myself, I said, "BB Sir, please allow me to go home. I won't address you as Thoo Sir anymore."
"Thoo Sir again," he chuckled, lightly tapping my head with the book in his hand. "Go on, run!"
All these years later, I realised that it took a lot of effort for him to respond the way he did. Unlike other teachers who only focused on the top students, he would treat all students equally, change the seating arrangement, shifting students from the front to the back.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-rubbish-memorising-gibberish">Learning rubbish, memorising gibberish</a>, Yugottam Koirala and yugeshwor Koirala
After leaving school and moving to Kathmandu, I began learning English and found the language fascinating. It took years to overcome my hesitation, but I eventually understood why Thoo Sir insisted on teaching English in English. I wished he had been more creative in making us appreciate the language and understand its importance.
We used to believe that Thoo Sir had the best English in the world and was forcing fluency on us when all we needed was 32 marks to pass. There was not much interest in learning English in those days.
Thoo Sir was ahead of his time in grasping the importance of a global language. He knew there was a world beyond our village of Madhesha and the SLC exams. He was not interested in our exam marks, he only wished us to understand English in English. And today, I am glad we had Thoo Sir as our English teacher.
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. Her previous column was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/the-thappad">Thappad.</a>
&nbsp;

"Mai commin, Sir?"

This piece is not about Tapasi Pannu’s Bollywood movie, Thappad. But the echo of that slap from childhood still echoes in my ear.&nbsp;
It was the first and only time my father ever laid a hand on me. It could happen again, since Nepali parents have a tendency to believe that no matter how old you are, you are always a child. They can hit you even in your 30s.&nbsp;
My father, a retired high school principal, seldom raised his voice at us while we were growing up. His silence and stern gaze were nevertheless frightening to us youngsters, and struck fear in our hearts.&nbsp;
As children, we never dared speak to him directly. Our mother acted as an intermediary, even in trivial matters like buying a ball-point pen for Rs4.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepali-students-underperform">Why do so many Nepali students underperform?</a>, Anita Shrestha
This was the 1990s, and we all excelled in studies. We were disciplined children who never uttered a curse word. We respect our elders. We were the epitome of well-behaved children.
So imagine our shock when I was subjected to physical punishment from my father for the first time. And it all had to do with my use, or misuse, of the English language.
We started learning English in Grade 4. I had topped not only my &nbsp;class, but the entire school. I could recite what was on any page in my text book. I had a photographic memory.&nbsp;
I excelled not only in academics, but also in General Knowledge. I could rattle off all the countries of South Asia and their capitals and heads of state.&nbsp;
My sister and I were the only two students in our class who had mastered the multiplication table up to 20. One day, our primary school principal announced that only students who knew the table up to 20 could go home, while the rest had to stay back and keep learning until they did. My sister and I found ourselves waiting until evening for our classmates to catch up.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality">After quantity, Nepal's education need quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel
I was 9, and also starting to learn to spell simple English words. I took immense pride in my progress because my grandfather did as well. However, it wasn't enough for my father.
That day, I was doing my English homework, while my father and his colleagues were engrossed in a political conversation. One of his colleagues suddenly asked, "Which grade are you in?"
"Fourth," I replied proudly.
He continued, "What is your roll number?" (Ah, the roll number, a prestigious measure of talent in those times.)
"One," I answered confidently.
He then asked me to recite the multiplication tables for 7, 9, 13, 17, and 19. Which I did, and I noticed my father’s eyes gleaming with pride.
My father’s other friend was also interested and asked me what I was writing.&nbsp;
When I responded “English”, he asked me to write out the lowercase alphabet — widely regarded as the more challenging aspect of English writing. I guess he was trying to confirm if I truly deserved the Roll Number 1 position.&nbsp;
To everyone's surprise, I swiftly wrote out the lower case alphabets from a-z. Satisfied, he was about to return to the political conversation when my father abruptly asked me, "Can you spell 'dog' for Uncle?"
“I can,” I said. “D-O-G,”
"And how about 'god'?" my father pressed on. I spelled god, and everyone was impressed.
Then my father asked me to spell ‘bag’. In those days, children attending <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/ministry-of-education-gets-an-f">government schools</a> in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-marginalised-on-the-margins">rural Madhes</a> had to carry our books cradled in our left hands. Sometimes, they held the books tightly against their chest with both hands, like parents carrying a child.&nbsp;
School bags were fancy and rare. Only private school students had bags. You could be sure a student carrying a school bag, wearing shoes and a tie would be attending a private school.&nbsp;
I had never carried a school bag, and did not know how to spell it. I looked up at the ceiling and squirmed, and my father’s eyes widened. The lines on his forehead showed disappointment.&nbsp;
It must have been less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity. The more time I took, the more they saw me as unworthy of having Roll Number 1. To escape my predicament, I blurted out: “B-O-G."&nbsp;
That was it. My father rose from his stool and slapped me on my face. No one stopped him. His colleagues tried to console me by urging me to study harder.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-rubbish-memorising-gibberish">Learning rubbish, memorising gibberish</a>, Yugottam Koirala and Yugeshwor Koirala
I was in shock. I had never imagined that my father would ever hit me. The slap did not just hurt me physically, but left a deep emotional scar. I fell ill with a fever that evening, and everyone knew the reason.
No one said a word to my father. My grandfather consoled me, but said that I needed to study even more diligently. As if I had not been studying diligently before.&nbsp;
I have hated the English language ever since. I never dedicated myself to learning English properly in class. And I hated English even more after we had Thoo (ठू) Sir. But that is a story for some other time.

Anbika Giri

The Thappad

Flipping through the pages of the government textbook for Grade 7 Nepali, one comes across this baffling paragraph which would be funny if it were not so serious:&nbsp; An elderly couple live in a village. They bear a son in their old age whom they name Balram. When Balram grows up to be a young man, the couple decide to get him married. The wedding is a grand affair. Balram’s wife is exceptionally beautiful and his parents are ecstatic about having found such a beautiful buhari. However, the sasura, curious about her intellect and disposition, decides to test her. So he calls her in and asks her, ‘Buhari, can you tell me how much you think we spent on your wedding?’ Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-rubbish-memorising-gibberish">Learning rubbish, memoring gibberish</a>, Yugottam Koirala and Yugeshwor Koirala Red flags go up all over that paragraph that serves as the story's exposition. But wait, things get even more interesting:&nbsp; &nbsp;The buhari replies, ‘I think you must have spent only about 2-3 manas of rice grains’. Offended by these words, the sasura retorts as he fumes with anger, ‘Your wedding cost me a fortune, and you’re saying 2-3 manas of rice grains is all that was spent? You make it seem like I incurred no expenses’. In what sounds like a line lifted right off of a hammy Indian daily soap, the sasura then goes on to say, ‘I don’t even want to look at your face anymore. Go back to your parents’ house right away! There is no place in my home for a buhari like you’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230925090916_76578a0ecf3c35d2bdeff79022ed048c5bcfeed57a9cfd4b618c5d33c62f2783.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230925090916_76578a0ecf3c35d2bdeff79022ed048c5bcfeed57a9cfd4b618c5d33c62f2783" data-rendition-name="original" width="1311" height="463" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali textbooks"> <figcaption>The story in the government textbook for Grade 7 Nepali.</figcaption> </figure>  Although aghast at her father-in-law’s response, the buhari does not utter a word. The dad-in-law, on the other hand, is determined to send her off to her parents’ house. The two then embark on a journey to the buhari’s parental home. As the plot thickens, it is revealed that the buhari has a special ability, thanks to which she can communicate with animals. Along the way, the sasura-buhari hear a wolf howling. The sasura does not think much of it, but the buhari knows exactly what the wolf is ‘saying’. The wolf's words translated are too bizarre to ideate. It says, ‘There is a corpse buried right here. If someone were to dig it up, I could feed on it. There’s a diamond ring on one of its fingers. I’d give the ring to whoever digs up the corpse for me’. Upon hearing this, the buhari thinks to herself, ‘If only I could lay my hands on that ring. My sasura will never believe me if I tell him about this. Oh, what a fix I am in!’ Soon, the sasura-buhari decide to make a pit stop under the shade of a banyan tree, and the sasura dozes off as he rests. The buhari then sneaks off to the spot where the wolf had been howling and starts to dig. Unsurprisingly, she unearths the corpse, presents it to the wolf, and takes the diamond ring on the body's finger. Not only are readers confounded by the sheer absurdity of the plot of this 'story', but it must be hard for young Grade 7 readers (or even their teachers) to shake off the macabre mental image it projects in the mind. Aside from a blatant disregard for the concept of dignified treatment of the dead, this story actually presents grave robbing as a perfectly acceptable thing to do.&nbsp; This is not all. The buhari then goes on to dig up some more valuables after a crow tips her off. The sasura is delighted to have come upon so much wealth because of the buhari. Subsequently, she also hands the diamond ring to the sasura and tells him all about how she found it. As you may have guessed, the sasura is now in awe of the buhari and regrets ever having doubted her. Having had a change of heart, he decides not to take the buhari back to her parental home. &nbsp; The story drags on as the sasura continues to ask the buhari random questions to test her wit till he is convinced of her ‘intelligence’ and ends with the sasura ‘entrusting’ the buhari with all his household responsibilities as he is finally impressed with her. What is a student to learn from the protagonist’s attitude towards his daughter-in-law? Will the story leave a child assuming it appropriate for a man to ask his daughter-in-law how much he must have spent on her wedding? Will a child be able to question why such an enquiry on the part of the father-in-law is even relevant? Will a seventh grader who reads the story consider it a man’s prerogative to ‘send his daughter-in-law off’ to her parents the minute he feels offended? What is a girl child to make of the portrayal of the buhari in the story? Are they to think that there is nothing wrong with assuming that a man is entitled to ‘test’ whether his daughter-in-law is good enough for the household?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230925090920_7a8bef87e71b1ce652247b916eaa4d0e1addfb882b53dcbfad2bf39c5693805c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230925090920_7a8bef87e71b1ce652247b916eaa4d0e1addfb882b53dcbfad2bf39c5693805c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="500" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali textbooks"> <figcaption>Government textbook for Grade 7 Nepali.</figcaption> </figure>  Is it only after she proves her ‘worth’ that a woman is acceptable to her marital family, even if that means digging up graves to bring in wealth? Oh, by the way, where was the woman’s husband while all of this transpired? Even if the author who wrote this story thought it would be an appropriate example to teach children they should not be too quick to judge a person, didn’t a single person who reviewed this story to decide whether it should be part of the school curriculum find the details in the story in the slightest bit objectionable?&nbsp; It is worth noting here that the line-up of authors and reviewers featured in the preface of the textbook in question is predominantly male and all from the dominant ethnic group. Perhaps objections were raised to the content of the book, but they were overruled? Either way, this and many other examples warrant a closer assessment of the government’s school curriculum development system, particularly the process of reviewing and screening content to ensure it is conducive to children’s overall social and emotional development in addition to helping enhance creative and analytical skills. It is crucial for those who design Nepal's school curricula to be mindful that the content of textbooks can solidify gender and social stereotypes in young minds and shape how people perceive and interact in society. If we are to envisage a future free of gender bias and social inequality for Nepal, school textbooks may be a good place to start. &nbsp;&nbsp; Sudeshna Thapa is a human rights lawyer and researcher. thapa.sudeshna@gmail.com

The Exceptional Buhari

India and Pakistan are twins separated at birth. Tensions between them have been at a hair trigger ever since independence and has erupted into full scale conflict at least four times in the past 80 years.
The 22 April terrorist attack in Kashmir that killed 25 Indian tourists and a Nepali citizen, threatens to escalate tension between the two nuclear-armed nations. India has squarely blamed Pakistan for the attacks, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has given his military “operational freedom” to respond. Pakistan has said it has credible intelligence of an Indian military strike and its officials have promised a “full spectrum” response — a code for a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/thinking-the-thinkable">nuclear retaliation</a>.
For Nepal, the killing of its national in the Pahalgam attack comes as another stark reminder that in conflicts from Afghanistan to Iraq, from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/how-to-agree-an-armistice-in-ukraine">Ukraine</a> to Israel, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/10-nepalis-from-one-town-fighting-in-ukraine">Nepalis are getting caught in the crossfire</a>. The last time full-scale fighting broke out between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/peacemongers-at-india-pakistan-border">India and Pakistan</a> on Kargil in 1999, at least 22<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-trial-by-fire-for-soldiers-from-nepal?%27%5C%22="> Nepalis fighting for the Indian Army</a> were killed in action.
Three of Nepal’s immediate neighbours (China, India, Pakistan) have nuclear weapons, and they do not have good relations. With China supplying weapons, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/war-and-warming">missile technology</a> and other support to Pakistan, this triangular friction could set off a regional conflagration.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43016-022-00573-0" target="_blank">Research at Rutgers University</a> has calculated that even a week-long tactical nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan would throw up so much smoke and debris into the atmosphere that it would block out the sun for years, and lead to a collapse of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grow-nourish-sustain-together-world-food-day">global food system</a>. This does not take into account the radioactive fallout that prevailing winds would blow up to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">the Himalaya</a>, contaminating glaciers that are the sources of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Asia’s main rivers</a>.
The impact of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>on High Asia was already ringing alarm bells about its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/himalayan-icecap-melting-faster-than-thought">shrinking ice cap</a> reducing the dry season flow of water downstream. Water was going to be the next strategic commodity, geopolitical experts warned, and the next wars in Asia would be over water.
That water war is already happening. India retaliated to the Kashmir attack by suspending the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/24/world/asia/india-pakistan-indus-waters-treaty.html" target="_blank">Indus Waters Treaty</a> of 1960 mediated by the World Bank that has withstood at least three wars between India and Pakistan. The treaty gives India control over the three eastern tributaries of the Indus (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beas_River" target="_blank">Beas</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravi_River" target="_blank">Ravi</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutlej" target="_blank">Sutlej</a>), while Pakistan got water from the Indus and two of its western tributaries (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_River" target="_blank">Indus</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenab_River" target="_blank">Chenab</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jhelum_River" target="_blank">Jhelum</a>.
Pakistan was assured of 70% of the annual flow, and India could use a reasonable amount of water for<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15231"> irrigation and hydropower</a>. &nbsp;Within days of its threat, India stopped water flowing down to Pakistan from the Chenab river and is reportedly preparing to do the same on the Jhelum.
The sabre-rattling has reached a crescendo. Besides threats and counter-threats there are also symbolic drills, with the Indian Air Force practicing landing on an expressway in Uttar Pradesh by its Rafale, Su-30 and Jaguar fighter jets to demonstrate ‘operational readiness’. In response Pakistan test-fired its Abdali ballistic missile that can carry a nuclear warhead and has a range of 450km.&nbsp;
The danger is that with ultra-nationalist rhetoric and the beating the war drums by both sides, India’s government and Pakistan’s military may have to ‘do something’ to appease domestic public opinion. But any tactical strike, an artillery exchange, or territorial incursion could quickly escalate out of control.
Expecting an Indian retaliation for the Pahalgam killings, Pakistan is using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/interfaith-collaboration-for-nuclear-disarmament"> nuclear deterrence </a>and warning of “catastrophic consequences”. The two neighbours came close to a nuclear exchange in 2019 after an attack on the Indian military in Kashmir, and prompt international intervention led by the United States cooled tensions.&nbsp;
This time, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trump-shock-wave-hits-nepal">Trump administration</a> is too distracted and not as engaged. Pakistan has denied it was responsible for the terrorist attack and called on Washington to stop a possible Indian retaliation. India and Pakistan have stopped overflights by each other’s airlines, and some international carriers have even stopped flying over Pakistan fearing an air war.
Washington, Beijing, the UN and the EU have all urged restraint. Iran, which has good relations with both India and Pakistan has sent its foreign minister to urge both countries not to go into a tit-for-tat war. Iran has its own nuclear flashpoint to worry about with tensions in Israel, &nbsp;Yemen and Syria.
India and Pakistan both share similar problems of joblessness, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-s-poverty-rate-is-stuck">poverty </a>and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepal-s-rhinos">environmental threats</a>. Neither side needs the threat of a senseless war, and we in the neighbourhood do not need it either.&nbsp;
Kunda Dixit
This Editorial is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

Nukes in the neighbourhood

The streets of Patan are alive this month with lavender jacaranda trees under rain-washed skies as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the chariot of Rato Matsyendranath</a> is pulled across town. This is the festival of the rain god, and inevitably the heavens opened up and pre-monsoon showers pelted the chariot as it started being pulled in Pulchok last week. Thousands of devotees, onlookers and the chariot procession organisers thronged the streets on the first day last week. The rhythmic cymbals and drums exuded a vibrant energy as the enormous four wheels turned and the chariot lurched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  The<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Red-rain-god,3141"> red rain god</a> has Hindu and Buddhist antecedents, alternatively called Bungadya and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-gravity-defying-chariot-festival"> Karunamaya</a> — reflecting Kathmandu Valley’s syncretic mixture of the two religions.&nbsp; “Bungadya is a profoundly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/marketing-the-intangible">intangible form of heritage</a>,” explains heritage expert Monalisa Maharjan. “It embodies traditional knowledge,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft"> artisanal skills passed down through generations</a>. Local communities and specific families have specified roles in being custodians of the heritage, ensuring their survival over the centuries.” There are many legends and stories about this annual tradition. Lichhavi king Narendra Dev is supposed to have brought Rato Matsyendranath from Assam to Kathmandu Valley to convince Guru Gorakhnath to lift a spell that created a two-year drought in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1503" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Matsyendranath was Gorakhnath’s mentor, and upon seeing him, the serpents were released, unleashing the rains. The chariot festival honours the return of this life-giving rain. The deity is seen as an icon for thriving agriculture, t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">he arrival of monsoon</a> showers, and the welfare of the community. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain">The reign of the god of rain</a>, Vidhu Prakash Kayastha Till this day, the Rato Matsyendranath festival is no ordinary celebration. Patan does not sleep for a month as the chariot is pulled through various neighbourhoods. It unfolds at a state level with the president (formerly the king) attending the climax of the Bhoto Jatra in Jawalakhel later this month.&nbsp; The intergenerational transmission of tradition is unique in the world, and the reason the festival is one of the most vibrant cultural expressions that thrives despite inroads of modernity. The other unique aspect is that it is a transnational festival, binding Patan with Guwahati in the Indian state of Assam.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  “Unlike Nepal, where the deity commands grandeur and devotion, many in Assam are unaware of Rato Matsyendranath,” says Khagen Sharma of Gauhati University, which convened <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-assam-connection-revived">a symposium in February in Guwahati on the rain god</a>. Attending was a delegation led by Lalitpur Mayor Chiribabu Maharjan, organisers of the festival, and builders of the chariot. After the symposium, a committee was formed to explore and revive the tradition in Assam as well. Although the team had planned to visit Nepal this month, logistical challenges delayed the trip. Still, there are plans to build a Guru Matsyendranath statue in Assam to reestablish regular worship practices in the Guwahati shrine.&nbsp; The vines used to build the chariot in Patan are sourced from the jungles of Assam. But Sharma notes that in recent years unclear regulations have blocked the official import of the vines, although they are still brought to Nepal informally. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">chariot making</a> has also had a taste of modernisation in recent times. In the past, even a single nail or piece of steel was avoided. But over time, the wooden structure, particularly the shaft between the wheels, has been replaced with bronze. When that too proved unstable, metal clamps were introduced, which have become a pragmatic compromise.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Another welcome change is the focus on safety. Builders climbing the chariot’s tower now wear harnesses and there are efforts in crowd control. The most visible change in recent years has been the involvement of Patan’s enthusiastic youth in the festival — the tradition is now passing to a new generation. Says Matsyendranath expert Vidhu Kayastha: “There is more energy, the young people in red t-shirts this year were very organised, these modern touches aren’t diluting our culture, they’re keeping it alive in new forms.” He adds, “We are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">reconnecting with our roots</a>, we have more resources, more awareness than ever before. We must not be swept away by western values that may not serve us, and in some ways, cause more harm than good. We must revive our own culture.”&nbsp;

Divine chariot

The discourse around <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-s-corruption-carousel">corruption in Nepal</a> is mainly about politicians and bureaucrats accepting bribes and kickbacks. The private sector usually does not get as much blame.
But the prevalent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-crony-communism-exposed">climate of cronyism</a> in Nepal means that the politicians and businesses are often hand in glove. The private sector is generally considered to be in favour of free market competition to encourage <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-has-to-curb-corruption-before-wooing-investors">investment</a> and innovation so that wealth is generated.
But insider trading, cartelling, and conflict of interest have become a given in Nepal’s private sector, and it all happens with the blessings of the government. In fact, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal">tycoons have become legislators and politicians have become businessmen</a>.
“Such collusion kills the free market, and does not allow entrepreneurship and innovation to flourish,” says Kush Kumar Joshi, former president of the Federation of Nepal Chamber of Commerce and Industries (FNCCI).
An example of this is the Dangote Group of Nigeria, which was planning for a cement factory in Nepal. A Dangote executive told us that Nepal’s cement cartel got the government to sabotage their plans.&nbsp;
Earlier, the same cartel tried to do the same thing to the Chinese companies Hongxi and Huaxin, arguing that Nepal’s cement industry was capable of meeting domestic demand and did not require foreign investment. Ultimately, Hongxi partnered with Nepal’s Shivam and Huaxin with former FNCCI president Suraj Vaidya.
In 2019, industrialists successfully lobbied lawmakers to prevent foreign investment in agriculture by amending the Foreign Investment and Technology Transfer Act. Two years later,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal"> foreign investment in agriculture</a> was opened, but only if 75% of the products were exported.
There is a long history of local lobbyists obstructing the entry of multinationals, like J Walter Thompson advertising agency and the international shipping company Maersk. Microbreweries, which can be operated by restaurants, have been prohibited at the behest of larger beer companies. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1292">private dairy sector </a>opposed the government-owned Dairy Development Corporation when it tried to begin production in Pokhara a decade ago.
“The<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/business-as-unusual?fbclid=IwAR3qEnUrVu9pRhZU669FR1F4zF95uPJKBpbQbq-q1Bm26p7OMVw-8JBP7FU"> business sector</a> is a reflection of Nepali society and government which do not care about <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6725">ethical business practices</a>,” says former CNI president Hari Bhakta Sharma. “The environment is not conducive to the few businessmen who are honest.”
Lobbying by businesses is not unusual in a democracy, but its basic character should be for the collective good, not individual greed.
“This kind of profit-over-everything mindset is fatal for businesses. Entrepreneurs must prioritise social, worker, and customer welfare,” adds Sharma.
Industrialists have actively lobbied for the removal of policies that prevent loan misuse and require bank loans in specific areas. They have partially reversed such directives.
Until the economic slowdown, Nepal’s fastest growing industry was construction. But even there, cement and steel rod manufacturers colluded by price-fixing. Banker Parshuram Kunwar Chhetri says Nepal’s corporates just do not believe in free market principles, adding: “Their ideas go against competition benefiting consumers. It is all about price fixing, cartels and monopolies.”
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/poor-cash-rich-nepal"> Poor cash-rich Nepal</a>, Sonia Awale
Ideologically, Nepal’s Communist parties are supposed to be against the neoliberal free market, globalisation and the ‘imperialism’ of international financial institutions like the World Bank and the IMF. But cronyism is rife there, too.
Two years ago, the FNCCI and the Confederation of Nepalese Industries (CNI) accused the IMF of interfering in Nepal's domestic economic policy after the Fund demanded economic reforms as conditions for its Extended Credit Facility.
Says economic analyst Sujeev Shakya: “How can we expect an honest and ethical business sector when we as a society tend to laud those who earn money through illicit and corrupt means rather than lament their <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Editorial-moral,667">moral bankruptcy</a>?”
In October 2012, the Chaudhary Group’s CG Electronics warehouse in Kathmandu caught fire. A surveyor certified that the company had suffered Rs580 million damage, which was paid out by United Insurance Company.
The Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA) directed the Nepal Insurance Authority to investigate suspected insurance fraud, and found that the fire damage was actually Rs340 million.
The Patan High Court ordered Chaudhary Group to return the excess amount, a decision the company challenged in the Supreme Court. But in March, the apex court also found the Chaudhary Group guilty of insurance fraud.
Chaudhary Group's Binod Chaudhary, Nepal's only known dollar billionaire, is a Nepali Congress central committee member and MP, former president of FNCCI and founder of the CNI.
Then last February, the Central Investigation Bureau questioned Binod Chaudhary and arrested his brother Arun Chaudhary of CG Holdings over their alleged involvement in the illegal acquisition of the state-run shoe factory, following an investigative report by Ukaalo Online.
In 2021, Chaudhary and his family’s offshore business dealings landed them <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers">in the Pandora Papers list</a> by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) for hidden assets in Panama.
Says Krishna Khanal, assistant professor of business ethics at King’s College: “Cronyism, political collusion, and anti-competitive cartelling are routine in the private sector. There is no other objective than to make money at any cost.”
Conflict of interest is rife in Nepal’s share market. In 2023, Ghorahi Cement owned by Triveni Group issued primary shares at a premium price. There is also evidence that a river was diverted for the construction of its business tycoon Upendra Mahato’s Mediciti Hospital. Bhatbhateni owner Min Bahadur Gurung is also involved in Lalita Niwas land grab scam in Baluwatar.
Meanwhile, Shankar Group Vice President Sulabh Agrawal, former honorary consul of Kyrgyzstan, was arrested by the police during the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-uneven-covid-19-deaths">Covid-19 pandemic </a>after he was found selling 67 infrared thermometers from a vehicle with diplomatic credentials. He was later acquitted by the court for price-gouging.
Nepal’s most influential corporates were accused of evading billions in VAT by forcing invoices. Freedom Forum invoked the Right to Information to collect evidence of the involvement of CG Foods, Him Electronics of Shekhar Golchha, Morang Auto Works of Bishnu Agarwal, Sulabh Agarwal’s Jagdamba Steels, United Builders of Shakuntalal Hirachan, United Traders of Anuj Agarwal, and Min Bahadur Gurung’s Bhatbhateni Supermarket.
Most of these businessmen have held leadership positions in the FNCCI. Former FNCCI presidents Shekhar Golchha, Pashupati Murarka and Pradeep Jung Pandey, along with members of the federation's governing council Birendra Kumar Shanghai, Shashikant Agrawal, and others all have unpaid dues of Rs22 billion to Nepal Electricity Authority.&nbsp;
Former FNCCI president Chandiraj Dhakal was blacklisted by the Credit Information Bureau Nepal for non-payment of bank loans.
He had previously obtained permission to use 36 hectares of government forest land in Chandragiri for 40 years without competition, and had received an exemption to build a ropeway there. The 54th report of the Auditor General, stating that Nepal had suffered as a result of these decisions, had suggested that the state be investigated for leasing land at low rates allowing large revenue exemptions.
Another ex-FNCCI president Pradeep Jung Pandey was sentenced to prison in 2014 following a corruption case spanning three decades. Former FNCCI treasurer Gyanendra Lal Pradhan is currently facing charges of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/black-white-and-grey">money laundering </a>through insider trading.&nbsp;
Former FNCCI president Pashupati Murarka was acquitted by the special court in a corruption case, but it is still pending in the Supreme Court. His cement company was found to have exploited the environment by over-mining limestone at various times.&nbsp;
His Siddhartha Minerals was also found to have encroached forests in Palpa, following which the District Forest Office registered a criminal case against him and co-investor Manoj Kedia. Arrest warrants were issued for six people, including Murarka and Kedia, but Muraka was released on bail, while Kedia is on the run.
Current FNCCI president Chandra Prasad Dhakal during his tenure as a member of the Securities Board of Nepal (SEBON) was accused of conflict of interest in being a regulator in the sale of shares in a company that his family had invested in.&nbsp;
Dhakal is the chair of the IME Group, which owns banks, insurance, remittance companies, several cable cars and hotels, and has been embroiled in numerous ropeway-related controversies — most recently for allegedly using political connections to suppress local opposition to a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/progress-and-or-preservation"> cable car project in Pathibhara</a>.
Another example of fraud committed in collusion with political leadership is Himalayan Reinsurance, the investors of which include prominent businessmen who have led FNCCI and CNI in the past, including Shekhar Golchha, Pashupati Murarka, Bhawani Rana, Rajesh Kumar Agrawa, Rohit Gupta, Amit Mor, Satish Mor, Shashikant Agrawal, and Sulabh Agrawal.
During <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-the-pandemic">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>, the Nepal Insurance Authority requested approval for a reinsurance company through an emergency notice, even though such a government-operated company already existed. But Himalayan Re-insurance was granted permission without any explanation as to why another reinsurance company was needed, or how it was selected out of the five companies that submitted proposals.
It was found that the Securities Registration and Issue Regulation was amended to allow this company to issue shares at a premium price, allowing the shares priced at Rs100 to be sold for Rs206. Himalayan Re-insurance raised Rs6 billion. The Companies Act stipulates that primary shares can be issued at a premium price only after three years of operation, a criteria Himalayan Re-insurance did not fulfil.
Open competition, consumer protection, worker welfare, environmental consciousness, anti-corruption, and tax responsibility are the foundations of a country’s healthy business world. But most captains of Nepal’s industry themselves do not uphold those principles.
The business community here is instead actively engaged in lobbying and colluding with the political leadership, and forcing the appointment of their candidates to lead various regulatory bodies.&nbsp;
“While the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft">new generation of entrepreneurs</a> operating in sectors linked to external markets such as IT seem sensitive to and compliant with professional codes, ethics, professionalism, and honesty are sorely lacking in Nepal’s business sector in general,” says Rameshore Khanal, former Secretary of the Ministry of Finance.
He adds: “Even those following ethical practices have been forced to seek political favours for fear of being left behind. There will thus be<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/it-does-not-pay-to-have-integrity"> no integrity in the private sector </a>until there is honesty in politics.”
Following the publication of this report in Himalkhabar, a Supreme Court judge on the condition of anonymity said: “Businessmen do not adhere to the principles of judicial independence, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary">rule of law </a>and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/government-to-governance-editorial,4200">good governance</a>. They use intermediaries and political connections to approach judges and win cases. Meanwhile, nobody raises these issues in public.” &nbsp;

Nepal's only growth industry: private sector corruption

This is the 67th 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. <h2>Alpana Adhikari, UK</h2> Back in Nepal, I had worked as a nurse for a decade, but I had my heart set to go overseas. My reason for wanting to migrate, however, was a bit different as it was for my son. He has a disability, and considering his situation from multiple perspectives—including societal attitudes, the preparedness of schools, and the availability of facilities for individuals with his condition—Nepal did not feel safe for my baby.&nbsp; I had to migrate, no matter what, for his sake. The facilities here in the UK for children with his condition are significantly better, and I am glad he and my husband will join me in a few months.&nbsp; I was applying via private routes like everyone else when the Government to Government pilot program between Britain and Nepal was announced. Even though the initial program targeted 100 nurses, only 40 of us were able to meet the criteria.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_46f6a3c05fd2d9bdac06a9a478f49079c2c69c783fcf0cc58b75da6128319745.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250511160536_46f6a3c05fd2d9bdac06a9a478f49079c2c69c783fcf0cc58b75da6128319745" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari started sorking as a nurse in a hospital in the UK in March.</figcaption> </figure>  I made it to the UK &nbsp;in February 2024 without paying a single paisa to any broker. The G2G scheme was unique as we were treated with dignity and valued for our skills: they covered costs for the ticket and visa, reimbursed us for exams we had taken and costs involved in the preparation and testing of the Objective Structured Clinical Examination were also covered.&nbsp; I started work in March last year, and currently am based in the respiratory ward of a hospital. I am enjoying my work a lot. In one year, I have received 26 WOW nominations which are notes of appreciation from patients we have served. ‘Alpana is one of the kindest nurses I have seen. Awesome and talented … always smiling, never appears tired and helps everyone,’ one patient testimonial said. Another: ‘You can see clearly that she cares about her patients…She was cool amidst great stress and ALWAYS with a smile which gave me confidence.’ I am also the International Educated Nurses Advocate which means I can raise issues with management about issues facing international nurses here.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_87b959c7550bbd1272ebf840d9f24735db008307ad825e4aa15e66c1662a7fd4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250511160536_87b959c7550bbd1272ebf840d9f24735db008307ad825e4aa15e66c1662a7fd4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1590" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>One reason Alpana Adhikari migrated to the UK was so there would be better facilities for her son, who has a disability. </figcaption> </figure>  Recruitment from NHS linked hospitals is free but when we migrate through private routes, agencies either charge upfront costs or in some cases, there is wage deduction once the nurses start earning.&nbsp; I have met Nepalis who have paid up to Rs 1 million for the same job. These costs can go even as high as Rs3 million for work in caregiving or nursing homes. I am lucky not to have to pay anyone for my posting.&nbsp; But beyond costs, I think there is also a reputational advantage of coming through the government selection process at the hospital. Such programs need to be expanded more because nurses are migrating anyway and it would save people a lot of unnecessary costs and hassles. I will always be protective about Nepal and am grateful for the experience I gained, but it is true that nurses lack dignity in the workplace back home. Nursing is laborious work and completing the education takes a fortune but the pay for nurses in Nepal, other than at a handful of hospitals, is unfairly low.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160540_2a483361070e6e65413cf3bcf3be7af0581044f85c3e6da25a66dc87042af9d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250511160540_2a483361070e6e65413cf3bcf3be7af0581044f85c3e6da25a66dc87042af9d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari while working as a nurse in Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  It naturally makes nurses want to migrate. People often ask me what the difference in the UK and Nepal is. Work is similar but in terms of technology, there is less paperwork here as everything is digitised. Treatment is also more nurse-led and we have more say while making recommendations about medicine and discharging decisions which can be empowering. I am not sure what it is about nursing but I am always in high spirits and energetic about showing up to work every day. To be a good nurse, you have to have the passion for patient care.&nbsp; Sometimes people tell me it is because my family has not yet joined me which has freed up my time to singularly focus on work, but I do not believe that is true. Back home, too, I used to be as passionate about my job.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160540_47851c2c850c936b7bfb23da0f0e8a07620ea213ad929c229b6cca8711adc5d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250511160540_47851c2c850c936b7bfb23da0f0e8a07620ea213ad929c229b6cca8711adc5d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari (left) during an International Nurses Day rally in Kathmandu.</figcaption> </figure>  What fuels my passion here is the appreciation we get. It is not just about the income. Sometimes after long hours at work when it has been a particularly busy day, a phone message from my manager and colleagues appreciating me for a job well done can go a long way.&nbsp; Likewise, the WOW recommendations from my patients have boosted my confidence. One of my elderly patients who had a mental illness and I bonded, and she felt comfortable enough to open up with me. She would then refer to me as her friend with everyone.&nbsp; It is little things like this that can make a big difference. Perhaps that is why my flat mate and colleagues often question why I don’t look tired even after a long shift. <h2>Binu Gurung, Japan</h2> It has been five-and-half years since I came to Japan under the Specified Skilled Workers (SSW) visa in the nursing category. I had previously come to Japan as a language student as well.&nbsp; I grew up in Ghandruk and had just started my Bachelor’s course when a friend suggested we try to go to Japan so I just followed the trend and stayed here for three years as a student.&nbsp; Two years after returning to Nepal, I re-migrated to Japan under the SSW scheme which was at its early stages and only open to nursing initially.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_305bb5cb5095da6148911dae8b07356ece5b292148e6c8e57a39fd31d811624b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250511160536_305bb5cb5095da6148911dae8b07356ece5b292148e6c8e57a39fd31d811624b" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Binu Gurung on arrival in Japan to work as a nurse three years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  I take care of the elderly Japanese who are mostly above 80 years of age, a few even above 100. I try not to get too attached to patients but it is of course not always easy because of the nature of the job and patients we serve.&nbsp; Patients dying of age is common as it is not a care facility where patients recover to return to their homes. Just recently, an elderly lady who had been here from the day I joined 5.5 years ago passed.&nbsp; These leave you a bit खिन्न and emotionally drained. Most are dementia patients who do not &nbsp;even recognise their family members. Some elderly patients are reserved and do not feel comfortable as the work entails helping with personal care tasks like using the toilet or bathing and they can be irritable.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_c840a0b12c20c3d52d9eceec06a0bc8c90208f13e402c50f319583b1c1a93b87.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250511160536_c840a0b12c20c3d52d9eceec06a0bc8c90208f13e402c50f319583b1c1a93b87" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Binu Gurung's work involves taking care of elderly Japanese.</figcaption> </figure>  Building trust and rapport takes time, patience and familiarity. I do not think there is a way to explain how happy I feel when they are happy with the care we provide and thank us in smiles like we are their own family members.&nbsp; My own grandmother back in Nepal was in a similar situation requiring care before she passed and I am able to extend that kind of care to many patients.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_0f41ad57ae1ac5bd2f406d86cdc5f542b613cef6961d8fdf20c883ee38404b5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250511160536_0f41ad57ae1ac5bd2f406d86cdc5f542b613cef6961d8fdf20c883ee38404b5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Binu Gurung in Yokohama.</figcaption> </figure>  I know that this job is not for everyone. That is why some nurses who come to Japan because they want to just migrate overseas at any cost without considering the kind of employment realise that caregiving might not be for them.&nbsp; You have to be mentally, physically and emotionally prepared for it. If you are short-tempered by nature, for example, it may not be the best fit. However, for those who are genuinely interested in care work like I am, there are many growth opportunities in nursing which are also financially rewarding.&nbsp; While working under the SSW visa, I was able to take training classes on the side and passed the national exam for nursing. I was then able to change my visa from SSW to nursing caregiver visa. My son joined my husband and I recently in Japan and has started school.

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