A <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/28/business/nepal-electric-vehicles-china.html#:~:text=Over%20the%20past%20year%2C%20electric,including%20Norway%2C%20Singapore%20and%20Ethiopia.">New York Times report this week</a> on Nepal’s electric vehicle boom was widely shared. The world is finally taking notice of the country’s energy transition.&nbsp; But the success story also brings new problems. Nepal will soon be facing a crisis in managing the lithium-ion of battery-powered cars, scooters and three-wheelers. Then there are mobile phone batteries, heavy metals and rare earths. “It used to be just laptops and mobiles, so people didn’t care so much, but one electric car can mean up to 500kg of waste, it will be beyond our control once they start piling up,” warns Pankaj Panjiyar of <a href="https://dokorecyclers.com/">Doko Recyclers</a>, an electrical and electronic waste management company in Kathmandu. He adds: “We were on track to generate 3,500 tons of lithium battery waste a year after 2027, but given the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/evs-hybrids-and-plug-ins">increased market of EVs</a> the actual figure will now be much bigger.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240411100420_bbef06f8a778f06fcd95f46764e9e5e280d8d0abb75563c7d7a0e5b1912caba8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240411100420_bbef06f8a778f06fcd95f46764e9e5e280d8d0abb75563c7d7a0e5b1912caba8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="EV year 2081 Page 1 NT #1207"> <figcaption>With 76% of new car sales being fully battery-powered, Nepal is second only to Norway. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Besides lithium, there are also heavy metals such as cobalt, nickel, and manganese that can contaminate the air, soil, and water, as well as rare earths. Nepal imported nearly 1.9 million mobile phones in the past year, a 40% growth from the previous — and that was only through official channels. With 76% of new car sales<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rev-your-car-and-charge-it-too?fbclid=IwY2xjawE-ds5leHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHRuXixJOm8QKgTPUuBka6dm6ifd_kyvOPOVrXxCcyZxLGhn5i3O9PPY3gw_aem_RE4gaV7GYb_AUUkkYkGsrw"> being fully battery-powered</a>, Nepal is second only to Norway. Lithium-ion battery waste from electric cars, mobile phones, toys, solar panels and the 9,000 telecommunication towers all over the country already makes up a sizeable chunk of electronic waste.&nbsp; Recycling lithium-ion batteries is possible but expensive, while the recovery rate of heavy metals, including gold, is at 95% or more. China is leading the game with more than half of the global recycling capacity of heavy metals at about 500,000 metric tons a year, much ahead of the United States and Europe. Nepal does not have recycling infrastructure for lithium-ion batteries. In fact, there is no recycling plant for lead-acid batteries either: the acid is usually just dumped while lead, other metals and plastic are extracted by the informal sector or sent to India. “Battery recycling is textbook engineering, it is not difficult, we should be able to do it ourselves,” energy economist Dipak Gyawali told a recent climate discussion. “But when there is no market, the standard law of political economy is that the state has to create one, that is how it happened in the US, the UK and China.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250801040832_149b8cdfa617b9d9ad8df9da39bb0795e87f2798a7317824cabfb5af7cef46c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250801040832_149b8cdfa617b9d9ad8df9da39bb0795e87f2798a7317824cabfb5af7cef46c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="3791" height="2527" loading="lazy" alt="e-waste in Nepal"> <figcaption>Staff at Doko Recyclers in Kathmandu working on sorting electrical waste this week.</figcaption> </figure>  Doko Recyclers had tried to set up a recycling infrastructure for lithium-ion batteries, and had nearly got a Rs40 million investment from Singapore-based Total Environment Solutions (TES). But Nepal’s lack of e-waste policy and investment guidelines meant the company was not assured of a return on investment and pulled out. Nepal also does not have Extended Producer’s Responsibility (EPR), wherein manufacturers and distributors are responsible for disposal and pay for the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/making-money-from-garbage-in-kathmandu,2055">recycling of the waste </a>generated by their product, including batteries. “It is only a matter of technology transfer when it comes to lithium-ion recycling, but it requires investment backed by government policies such as EPR,” explains Panjiyar. “But there must also be provisions for extracted raw materials like lithium. We don’t manufacture batteries in Nepal, so we have to export them. But who is going to pay for that?” Lithium, heavy metals and rare earths also draw much criticism for unethical mining and environmental cost. One ton of mined lithium emits nearly 15 tons of CO2. Lithium is either extracted from briny water or hard rock minerals, add is often associated with contamination of water as well as loss of water sources. Nickel and cobalt mining comes with massive ecological cost and labour exploitation.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250801040848_3b3fc49c554a1759f31becaca1c737a641c94ee7a0d964e5fa898b060f41dec1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250801040848_3b3fc49c554a1759f31becaca1c737a641c94ee7a0d964e5fa898b060f41dec1" data-rendition-name="original" width="5460" height="3640" loading="lazy" alt="e-waste in Nepal"> <figcaption>Repair and refurbishing of used electronic goods can help reduce e-waste. </figcaption> </figure>  Sodium-ion batteries which are a safer, cheaper and more sustainable alternative. Battery-powered transportation could also be just a stepping stone to green hydrogen fuel of the future. “If we are using these metals, at the very least deploy them for the benefit of the larger public, like by promoting electric buses,” says Shilshila Acharys of Avni Center for Sustainability which recycles plastic and other waste. “Ultimately, it comes down to our consumption patterns. It is much easier to use one less mobile phone or a car which wasn’t even necessary, than recycling.” <h2>What happens to your phone when it dies</h2> <a href="https://ewastemonitor.info/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/GEM_2024_18-03_web_page_per_page_web.pdf">Nepal generated 42,000 tons of e-waste</a> in 2024, up from just 13,000 ten years ago, according to a worldwide survey by Global E-waste Monitor. The figure for Nepal is projected to reach 69,000 tons in 2026.&nbsp; While this is modest compared to most other countries, the growth and lack of recycling facilities are worrying. Household appliances such as washing machines, refrigerators, cooking stoves and ovens still make up nearly half of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/what-will-nepal-do-with-its-e-waste">electrical and electronic waste in Nepal</a>, while phones, laptops, tablets, hard drives, routers and modems come next at 9%. Consumer electronics made up 17% of e-waste, followed by lighting equipment at 14%, screen and monitors at 8% and toys at 9%.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250801040832_c271890d0cacd31b7c4e244daef81fc612b62fb40d00500f60c35aec65822390.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250801040832_c271890d0cacd31b7c4e244daef81fc612b62fb40d00500f60c35aec65822390" data-rendition-name="original" width="1267" height="649" loading="lazy" alt="E-waste in Nepal"> </figure>  “The nature of e-waste has changed in the last decade or so, we now have less CRT monitors and CFL bulbs but more devices, solar panels, optic fibre which actually has a negative recycling value and now EV batteries,” says Pankaj Panjiyar of the Doko Recyclers. The nature of e-waste is also guided by changing consumption patterns where people upgrade to newer gadgets every couple of years, not necessarily because they are at the end of their lives. The average lifespan for mobile phones in Nepal is only two years, four years for laptops, eight years for televisions and computers, and ten years for refrigerators and washing machines. Just last fiscal year, Nepal imported nearly 1.9 million smartphones worth Rs24 billion. “Businesses today, especially electronics, have exchange offers wherein customers can exchange even well-functioning goods for a newer version. By not using electronic goods to the end of their lives, we are creating a problem that wasn’t there to begin with,” says Shilshila Acharya of Avni Center for Sustainability. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ev-year">Electronic use has increased dramatically</a>, but our e-waste management capacity remains the same.” When municipal governments have failed to even manage biodegradable waste, they have not even started thinking about e-waste. Which is why electronic and electrical waste is left to the informal sector. There are some 1,200 scrap dealers in Kathmandu and 20% of e-waste is thought to be recycled despite the lack of proper formal channels, and most of it ends up in India. This means limited extraction of plastic parts as well as metals such as aluminium and copper, but removal of precious and heavy elements is not yet carried out in Nepal. Liquid waste, such as acid from lead batteries, is disposed of in the dumping sites, poisoning ground water and rivers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250801040844_ccc83c1133fc54567abc93abc87a97263b3b28f9edb58450c8804526d97aeda8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250801040844_ccc83c1133fc54567abc93abc87a97263b3b28f9edb58450c8804526d97aeda8" data-rendition-name="original" width="3936" height="2624" loading="lazy" alt="e-waste in Nepal"> <figcaption>Nepal doesn't have a proper recycling infrastructure for e-waste and cannot extract precious and heavy metals as of now.</figcaption> </figure>  There is also a small but growing market to refurbish used electronic goods led by the likes of Sabko Phone which buys second-hand smartphones and reconditioning them to an almost new cheaper device.&nbsp; “It was very difficult for us in the beginning to get people behind this campaign, but over the last couple of years, we have seen a change,” says Uttam Kafle of Sabko. “The fact that they are buying a refurbished phone today means they might buy a refurbished washing machine in future.” Fourteen percent of the 1.22 billion mobile phones sold in 2023 were refurbished — that translated to 190 million fewer new phones that year. Says Kafle: “If we can associate refurbishing and upcycling with environmental gain, we will go a long way.” Indeed, experts recommend reducing the consumption of electronic goods not required as the first step to managing waste, followed by repair, reuse, and upcycling. Recycling is often the last option, also because Nepal lacks proper infrastructure as well as a legal mechanism.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250801040832_9b96a8ba5e161633e6f1341da06d0fd53c8f17b12f3dc05c4d39fc0168ee01c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250801040832_9b96a8ba5e161633e6f1341da06d0fd53c8f17b12f3dc05c4d39fc0168ee01c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="5879" height="3919" loading="lazy" alt="E-waste in Nepal"> <figcaption>Experts recommend reducing the consumption of unwanted electronic goods as the first step to better manage e-waste. </figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s Solid Waste Management Act 2011 has no mention of e-waste. It has since been revised, but the document is making rounds of various ministers and is yet to be finalised. Even so, it does not have any guidelines on managing electrical and electronic waste, and has only defined the terminology. India has an Extended Producer’s Responsibility (EPR) as well as Battery Waste Management Rules 2022 which clearly outline the responsibilities of producers, recyclers, and refurbishers. “A national-level e-waste legislation with EPR is a must with provisions at municipalities such that there is a separate collection value chain, and such a policy should allow for recycling infrastructure,” says Panjiyar. “All of this should happen simultaneously and with public awareness about e-waste in Nepal.” EPR will also help remove unreliable players in the market, and in turn reduce the flow of unwanted goods. This is in line with calls to curb unchecked and uncontrolled consumption of goods as well as prioritising ethical and sustainable development. This has much relevance for the EV boom in Nepal. Of the 22,907 four-wheelers worth Rs50.88 billion that the country imported last fiscal year, 16,701 units valued at Rs41.23 billion were electric vehicles. Few of them were passenger buses, which are much more expensive than diesel ones of the same size. Until grid-to-motor technology, such as trolley and tram, are introduced, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-public-in-public-transport">government must subsidise electric buses</a> to make the best use of surplus hydroelectricity while cleaning up the air and reducing Nepal’s petroleum bill.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240315040324_95d6be14bc19ae56151d75be42d3d39d6cba00308b4159104bc6c6fe0292b39a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20240315040324_95d6be14bc19ae56151d75be42d3d39d6cba00308b4159104bc6c6fe0292b39a" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2141" loading="lazy" alt="Poor cash-rich Nepal NT"> <figcaption>An electric bus and bicycle lane in Lalitpur. Photo: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  After all, only so many individuals can afford private EVs, and even then, they do not nearly reduce emissions as much, but add to traffic. Large electric buses also mean fewer lithium-ion batteries per person. “Our EV adoption is both a success story and a disaster waiting to happen given all that battery waste we will be faced with soon. It is like by trying to solve one problem we have created another,” says Acharya. Uttam Kafle at Sabko Phone says the concept of responsible use and circular economy which involves reusing, repairing, refurbishing and recycling existing materials and products as long as possible, should be the way forward. “We must make the best use of electronics for the betterment of our lives, there are still places and people without much access to these goods. But their ethical use and management, especially at the end of their life, will help save us from a lot of future problems.” This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250307140328_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250307140328_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG logo"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Sonia Awale

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Waste not, want not

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UExRdp1UiBk&amp;t=0sMany Nepalis are worried about growing consumerism and throw-away culture, but most shrug and move on because they think one person cannot change the world.But not Shubu Tewari and Uttam Kaphle. Both were working in the development sector, and felt they should do something concrete to prove that sustainability made business sense. They could make a difference by shedding their indifference.Unlike a linear economy which begins in extraction and ends in disposal, the circular economy keeps materials in use for as long as possible, making maximum use of them and minimising resource extraction and waste. Tewari and Kaphle studied models for a circular economy that would work in the Nepal business context.Read also:  <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dangerous-ewaste,2953" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dangerous rubbish</a>, Lokmani RaiTewari and Kaphle zeroed in on e-waste, researched the mobile phone market and customer behaviour, and set up <a href="https://sabkophone.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sabko Phone</a>. They were shocked to find out that Nepal officially imports 6 million cell phones a year valued at Rs 24billion. So, they decided to focus on repairing and refurbishing phones. In April 2019, SabKo Phone was born.Sitting in a sunny corner of their bright, airy office in Sanepa, Tewari and Kaphle explain that most Nepalis seek a phone upgrade every 15 months. They found that 40% of old phones were just lying around the house unused, and could be refurbished.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b78c39c7e80680e0646bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6000" height="4000"/><figcaption>Old phones that cannot be recycled are used for their parts. All Photos: SHRISTI KARKI</figcaption></figure>“This is a sector in which there are a lot of problems, but that also means that there are many solutions to be found,” explains Tewari. “If only 5% of the demand for new phones switched to refurbished phones, more than Rs1 billion would be saturated in the market.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/what-will-nepal-do-with-its-e-waste/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">What will Nepal do with its e-waste?</a>, Sonia AwaleSabKo Phone offers phone repairs within three days, and refurbishes old phones in a week or so. The company also buys phones from people, and have prices for 300 models on its data base. If potential customers are satisfied with the price, they can book an appointment via the website, or just visit the store. Phones left with SabKo Phone are worked on by two full-time technicians and when clients get their phones back or buy refurbished ones with warranty.While beating the planned obsolescence of mobile phones, refurbishing also ensures that gold, cobalt, and other hazardous materials in e-waste can be mined and sold so they do not contaminate landfill sites.“We might not be able to change everything, but we want to at least try to mitigate the problem,” says Tewari. “The fewer new smartphones brought on to the market, the lighter the economic and ecological burden.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b78c79c7e80680e0646bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>SabKo Phone’s sustainability practice extends beyond phone repair and refurbishing. Tewari and Kaphle are researching alternative uses for phone parts that cannot be reused in phones. The company sells its phones in boxes made of Nepali paper, and most of the furniture in SabKo Phone’s office is reused or repurposed. The company calculates its carbon footprint and at the end of each working year, and is working with Wildlife Conservation Nepal to neutralise it.“If there is one thing that we figured out, it is that people do not want to throw away their phones and have them go to waste,” Tewari says, “There are very few people who say that they would rather throw their phones away than sell them.”There are other environmentally sustainable practices in Nepal like Fashion Revolution, and Tewari hopes others will join in creating non-waste ventures in the electronics sector as SabKo phone itself expands.

Shristi Karki

Reincarnation of old phones in Nepal

Sha Bahadur Gurung was 30 years old when he was arrested for participating in a peaceful protest. He died aged 65 last week in Bhutan’s Chamgang Central Prison. He was among 31 prisoners of conscience in Bhutan, many of whom are serving long sentences for opposing the regime’s forcible expulsion of 100,000 of its Lhotsampa people in the early 1990s. ‘Mr Gurung died on 15 December in his prison cell under circumstances that raise serious concerns about custodial negligence and long-term abuse,” said a statement by the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) based in The Hague which demanded an external probe, justice and release of remaining political prisoners. Gurung was from Chirang and was arrested in 1990 while serving in the Royal Bhutan Army, and accused of having sympathies for the Lhotsampa people. He was mostly held at the notorious Rabuna Prison in Wangdi Phodrang District.&nbsp; Gurung’s relatives in the United States said he had endured prolonged physical and psychological abuse during his imprisonment, and repeatedly subjected to torture and inhumane treatment. They believe the decades of ill-treatment had damaged his health, ultimately leading to his death. Earlier this month, Gurung was transferred from Rabuna to Chamgang Central Prison. On 14 December. He had gone to bed after dinner without any visible sign of distress. He was found unconscious in his cell the next morning.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="1103" loading="lazy" alt="Sha Bahadur Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Sha Bahadur Gurung, who died at age 65 in prison in Bhutan after serving 30 years for expressing political opinion.</figcaption> </figure>  He was referred to a hospital in Thimphu, suggesting that he was still alive during transfer to a local health post. But it appears that he had already died before being taken from prison. Gurung’s death occurred two days before Bhutan’s National Day on 17 December, when families, supporters, and human rights advocates worldwide had hoped for the release of political prisoners through a royal amnesty. Instead, the death of one of the longest-serving political prisoners has caused grief and anger in the Bhutanese diaspora.&nbsp; “We strongly condemn the treatment and death of Gurung, a peaceful and justice-loving Bhutanese citizen,” the V statement said. ‘This tragedy raises serious questions about the treatment of political prisoners in Bhutan and stands in stark contrast to the country’s international image under the principles of Gross National Happiness, compassion, and mindfulness.’ Earlier this year, The <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/special-procedures/wg-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention-its-101st-session" target="_blank">United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the Bhutan government was detaining citizens without parole for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/detainees-in-dire-straits-in-bhutan-s-prisons" target="_blank">expressing political opinion</a>. The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in 2023 that there were least 37 <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/13/bhutan-free-long-term-political-prisoners" target="_blank">political prisoners</a> in Bhutan’s jails. Of them, 32 belong to the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa community, which has faced <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2003/06/18/nepal-bhutanese-refugees-rendered-stateless" target="_blank">decades of discrimination and abuse</a> and eviction. Most of them were convicted because of prohibited political activity between 1990 and 2008. One political prisoner, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-country-for-dissent?fbclid=IwAR07lpitMBWAYSkny_3d_smQBlmoxAOQm1OxdNtl-27h8mV0RNO9IxVY2qs" target="_blank">Madhukar Monger</a>, who was released in 2023 after serving 29 years described brutal conditions in <a href="https://www.hrw.org/asia/bhutan" target="_blank">Bhutan</a>'s jails. Political prisoners were not given enough food, and medical care, he said, urging the internaitoonal community to press for the release of prisoners of conscience.&nbsp; In March, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/meenakshi-ganguly" target="_blank">Meenakshi Ganguly</a>, Deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, urged Bhutan’s international partners to call on the Bhutan government to release all remaining political prisoners immediately.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1422" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1420" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

‘Get out of my house.’ ‘All my sickness is because of you.’ ‘You’re a millstone around my neck.’ Arundhati Roy heard these admonitions from her mother over and over throughout her life.&nbsp; This must be a singular, yet universal experience. There must be very few daughters who make it through life unscathed by their mothers. And vice-versa.&nbsp; How many of our mothers look at us and see in us the potential of all of the lives they could have lived? How many resent us for it, or want us to live those lives in their stead? And how many of us look back at our mothers and imagine what they would have achieved had they not been expected and assigned to play the role of wife, daughter-in-law, mother — had we never existed in their lives? How many mothers project their experiences onto their own daughters and continue the cycle? No daughter seems to escape it — no matter how well-behaved, docile, unruly, or rebellious. Certainly not the child who would go on to become a Booker prize-winning author. Arundhati Roy’s memoir Mother Mary Comes To Me chronicles her complex relationship with her mother Mary, or Mrs Roy, as her educator mother had her two children refer to her. In December, Arundhati Roy was in Kathmandu to sign books and briefly interact with readers at two bookshops in the city. She describes a childhood overshadowed by her mother’s volatility towards her and her brother. Mary herself was raised by an abusive father to escape whom she married the first man who proposed — Arundhati’s father who in her mother’s words turned out to be an alcoholic ‘Nothing Man’.&nbsp; Mary left her husband in Assam and eventually wound up with her two children in her town of Aymanam in Kerala, encountering other family members along the way who did not treat her, or her children with respect. The trauma and cruelty her mother endured could not be contained in her body, and spilled out onto her two children, towards whom she was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive.&nbsp; While she treated her children with disregard, she would build a school in the nearby town of Kottayam from the ground up, educate thousands of children, take up a legal fight that led to the Supreme Court granting Syrian Christian women in India equal inheritance rights, and uplift many orphaned children and women in Kerala.&nbsp; Arundhati lived with both her mother’s brutality and brilliance. And like her daughter, readers must reconcile the indefensible parts of Mary Roy’s personality — the cruelty of calling her nine-year-old daughter a bitch, or shooting the family dog that mated with a stray — with her unyielding drive to educate thousands, fight for equal rights, and challenge the way her world viewed women.&nbsp; Mrs Roy had little kindness for her own children, but plenty for the students, children, and women whose lives she shaped, and made better. And her kindness was not rooted in empathy, but in anger at the hand she had been dealt in life. Eventually, Arundhati decided to temporarily cut all contact with Mrs Roy — not because she did not love her, she writes, but so that she could continue to love her. Her desire to get away from her abusive mother, and her fascination with the ideas inspired by the architect who built her mother’s school, would lead her to the Delhi School of Architecture at age 16. In Delhi, Arundhati became roommates with Hisila Yami before she and her Maoist ideologue husband Baburam Bhattarai went underground to lead Nepal’s decade-long armed struggle. &nbsp; But architecture was not her calling. In Delhi, the heart of India’s statecraft, Arundhati came into young adulthood against a backdrop of the country’s changing socio-politics, which began to take a turn for the hyper-nationalist, Hindu supremacist community that it has now largely become. The winds of those changes have now blown into Nepal. In the city, far from her mother, Arundhati met the man who would become her partner of many years, collaborating with him on several films and screenplays before finding the language (‘I needed to hunt [language] down like prey,’ she writes) she needed to become the writer she is now.&nbsp; She went on to write her Booker prize-winning novel The God of Small Things, but the wealth and status the book brought her did not sit comfortably. So she smashed her newly-built gilded cage, as she describes it, and became more political. Contrary to norm, she published several works of non-fiction, and would only publish her second novel, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, in 2017, 20 years after The God of Small Things. &nbsp;&nbsp; Her fierce opposition to India’s nuclear policies, to a dam that would displace millions of indigenous people and ecologically damage the Narmada Valley, her championing of Kashmiri self-determination, and her time spent with Maoist rebels in the forests of Chhattisgarh as they took up arms to defend their land and resources against corporate interests made her an enemy of the state.&nbsp; Meanwhile, being raised by a single mother had never sat well within her Syrian Christian community. ‘I wasn't Christian enough. I wasn't Hindu enough. I wasn't communist enough. I wasn't enough,’ Roy writes in her memoir. For all her love for India, the nation did not seem to reciprocate. The circumstances might be different, but it might strike a chord with readers in Nepal, many of whom marched on the streets in September hoping for a better tomorrow, but were gunned down by the very institutions meant to protect them. It might resonate with those who are not seen as citizens of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood.&nbsp; Arundhati’s relationship with her mother, who was simultaneously proud and disdainful of her daughter’s accomplishments, continued to be tumultuous until the end of Mary Roy’s life.&nbsp; One of Mrs Roy’s last messages to her daughter before she passed was: ‘There is no one in the world whom I have loved more than you.’ Arundhati muses that her lifelong refusal to stop loving her mother must have finally breached her barriers. One wonders if that final declaration of love was solace enough, apology enough, for all the pain caused.&nbsp; But for Arundhati Roy, her love for her mother and her motherland outweighs the cruelty both have shown her. This, too, must be a singular, yet universal experience.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Mother Mary Comes to Me review"> </figure>

The sins of our mothers

Samrat Upadhyay’s newest novel <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/10/books/review/darkmotherland-samrat-upadhyay.html" target="_blank">Darkmotherland</a> imagines a Kathmandu in political turmoil after a large earthquake. In the aftermath, Home Minister Giridharilal Bhagirath Kumar stages a ‘koo’, and has convinced people that he is the answer to the crisis.&nbsp; He is now known as ‘PM Papa’, and picks up classic dictatorial ways — propaganda, statue-making, history-revising, and a gang of Shiva-worshipping ‘Fundys’.&nbsp; We are introduced to two complicated protagonists. The first is Kranti, a fetching young woman and ‘Madam Mao’, her Communist professor mother. The chef father loved classic rock and died by gas cylinder suicide. Kranti hates her mother, and the Communist group which congregates at her home to plot against PM Papa, although they seem to take forever to get anything done.&nbsp; Kranti has a complicated relationship with the handsome Bhaskar, the middle son of the Ghimirey family oligarchy that is aligned with the dictator. She loves him, but as Bhaskar gets more and more involved with her mother and the Communist group, finds herself heading out to the ‘Bhurey’ (Bhu-kampa Rey-fugee) tents, to spend time with poet Kabiraj.&nbsp; Kranti is also given to delusions, paranoia, and psychosis, convinced that Bhaskar’s family is spying on her, and that one in the Communist group has supernatural powers of suggestion that led to her father’s suicide. Despite mental issues, she marries Bhaskar and into the Ghimirey clan, and the complex nexus between business and politics.&nbsp; The second is Rozy, initially the genderqueer lover of PM Papa who he discovered in the streets, and is described as a ‘gorgeous homosexual’. She turns heads due to her sexuality and beauty, and gets more and more politically powerful as the story moves along.&nbsp; Upadhyay tells us Nepali writers writing in English often feel a pressure to create an “all-embracing world” (interview), but that is what he seems to be getting at with the monumental plot of his novel. Unlike the realism in his previous novels, this one drifts off into magical realism. His narrative blends the ever-present risk of a big earthquake and the actuality of political tremors. The speed of political upheaval seems a little unrealistic for anyone who lived through the 2015 earthquake, although the GenZ protests showed just how quickly a regime can be reduced to a heap of rubble. The age-old question: oppression can be overcome, but what comes after? The PM Papa character is a Gyanendra-Oli-Deuba-Prachanda-Modi-Trump-Papa Doc composite who is good friends with the not even thinly veiled President Corn Hair.&nbsp; Through the character of Kranti, Upadhyay conveys the dynamic between a parent and a child who is now a full adult, on relationships in Kathmandu as marriage looms, on pervasive corruption which one might denounce but have to take advantage of to get things done.&nbsp; Through Rozy, Upadhyay brings attention to the non-binary identity, one that has existed forever in Nepal, and although is discussed a lot in the West lately but not so much here. Upadhyay explores the origins, the present, and the various advantages and disadvantages of the queer.&nbsp; Storytelling in the early parts of the book oscillates between the real and absurd fantasy amidst the physical and political backdrop that does not have to be Nepal -- it could be Modi's India or Trump's America.&nbsp; The reader sees the world through Kranti’s psychosis, or PM Papa’s displays of power, such as when a ‘Sweej’ wrestler is beaten to death with a mace in a wrestling spectacle.&nbsp; These elements <a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/authors/profiles/article/96329-samrat-upadhyay-wants-you-to-expect-the-unexpected.html" target="_blank">coagulate in the novel</a>, and Upadhyay has all the pages at his disposal to prod and push them against one another to see what happens. The novel is still at its best and most engaging when describing vulnerable scenes, of Kranti and her mister, or of Rozy’s messed-up childhood.&nbsp; Any Nepali reading his weighty novel can recognise the allusions and nudges such as the Tourist Area: Thamel, Open Stage: Khula Manch, Tri-Moon: Tri-Chandra etc. But anyone not from these parts may have a tough time keeping track. Keeping a notebook handy may be useful.&nbsp; Ultimately, the novel does work, it provokes and entertains. For best results, serialise the reading over 30 days, not 3 like this reviewer.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122005124_88d92d9a2c5718436354d9c1ce6a2576931ef3242a37f6b90d84da15fe96dd8d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025122005124_88d92d9a2c5718436354d9c1ce6a2576931ef3242a37f6b90d84da15fe96dd8d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Darkmotherland NT"> </figure>  <h2>More things change, more they remain the same</h2> First US-published Nepali Samrat Upadhyay is the award-winning author of novels and short story collections like Arresting God in Kathmandu, The City Son, Mad Country, and Buddha’s Orphans. Upadhyay is also the Martha C. Kraft Professor of Humanities at Indiana University, where he teaches Creative Writing.&nbsp; Recently in Kathmandu, he talked to the Nepali Times over coffee in Boudha about his writing, his teaching, and his newest novel, DARKMOTHERLAND.&nbsp; Nepali Times: Darkmotherland is 732 pages long. What was it like writing a much longer book? Samrat Upadhyay: Torturous Ha ha ha. Around 2014 I started a story. I knew it was going to be a novel. It was about this woman who is accused of being a Mangalik. Then the big earthquake happened in 2015. I was in the US but my parents were still here, they were living in tents. Then I started thinking, what would happen if a dictator came to power. That’s how PM Papa was born. I think mostly because of his character the novel exploded. I had never written a character like him before. I don’t do any plot outlines when I write. Let’s see where it goes. I like the process of writing to lead to discoveries. If I knew everything then I’d get bored. Not knowing where the storyline might go is very exciting. All these different threads started coming in, the character of Kranti started taking on a big role. Her mother, a Communist-leaning professor, started taking shape. Kranti also had a love-interest from an oligarchical family. The novel just took off and I just continued writing. A novel is as long as it needs to be. The initial draft was 1,700 pages. I was writing pretty fast. I don’t pause to see if the sentences are pretty. I whittled it down, and by the time I sent it to my agent it was 1,100 pages. He was able to sell it to Soho Press. I worked with an editor who suggested some further cuts and expansions. The editing part was even harder than the initial writing, because by that time I was tired of looking at the novel. There was a bit of a delay because of Covid, then we got back on track. What’s your daily process of getting the words on paper? I am a morning writer. I get up in the morning and start writing. You can have all kinds of theories but there is this saying, Shut Up and Write. The writing is where the meat is. You encounter difficulties in writing that you may not encounter when thinking about it. I see this in my students. I knew this was a big project so I knew that if I wanted to get it out I would need to write a lot per day. I got a couple fellowships in the university that gave me a few semesters off teaching. I would write for about 4 or 5 hours. Sometimes I would give myself a 1,000 word deadline, but I’m flexible with it if I don’t get there. You have to be kind and patient. What is your inspiration behind the gender-queer character, Rozy? I’ve always been a strong supporter of LGBT. I would say that at this point half of my students are non-binary or on the gender spectrum. Some of them are going through transitions. In some ways Nepal has become more accepting, but in other ways not. I did a workshop with Blue Diamond Society, and heard pretty harrowing stories. I didn’t intend to create a gender-queer character, but it seemed like the novel was demanding that. Especially in terms of the tyrannical stronghold that PM Papa has over the entire country, it made sense that there would be a counterpart, I wanted to put these things in motion and see how they interact. As I was writing Rozy, her character became very formidable. How much do you draw from Nepali politics? Do you form characters off people you know? Not in a very concrete sense, but I’m always drawing from them. I grew up in the Panchayat System, and lived in Lainchaur. The palace was there. The monarchy was such an institution. But then I was in the US, so I wasn’t here when the pro-democracy movement happened. In some ways it felt like things had changed, but were the same in other ways. I feel the same way now. I do draw upon people. I think my father makes an appearance in my work in various forms, I disguise him, of course. You’ve taught creative writing for a while now, how is literature changing?&nbsp; My students are also writing non-binary characters, because they want to be reflected in the stories. This is something new that we didn’t have. White authors, characters were the default. People of Color on the margins. African American and then Hispanic, South Asian authors were always pushing back on this status quo. When I was growing up in the classroom we were reading a lot of white male authors, but in my own life I was reading Salman Rushdie, African, South African friends and writers. My students have a lot more interest in fantasy, many are writing dystopian. One student is writing a novel where the characters start playing a game, and then they enter the game, and an entire new world opens up. On the one hand there are complaints that students aren’t reading enough, which is true, but my students are producing smarter work. Writing that is a lot more insightful. The calibre of discussion in my graduate-level novel writing classes is mind-boggling to me, and makes me want to keep on teaching. Do Nepali writers who write in English feel a certain pressure, from the market or self-imposed, to make their stories more Nepali? My experience for a long time was that there was a pressure, I felt it true in my case, I was supposed to be the representative of every Nepali. But Nepali writers writing in Nepali are not asked, how are you representing Nepal. At that time there was a lot of pressure to write a novel that is all-embracing, that is supposed to speak on all aspects of the country. Politics felt like an integral part of it, that these novels had to make big political statements. I always felt like this was wrong. I mean, people have to write what they want to write. &nbsp;You write what you want to write, and if it resonates with readers, that’s great. If it doesn’t, that’s fine too. Art isn’t going to speak to everyone. We do a competition every couple of years called Writing Nepal. We make a call for stories, and we decide the best ones. I find it refreshing now that the writing isn’t all about Nepal. The best stories are quite varied. What are Nepalis writing about?&nbsp; Several of the stories are about the role of women in our society, done with a lot of nuance, about the sort of multitasking they have to do. Some of it was deeply historical, some dystopian, the coming of AI. Some of them have an old-timey type of feel, and some of them are very modern, contemporary. The general level of art in movies, TV shows, and novels seems to have regressed compared to say the 90s.&nbsp; I don’t think that’s entirely true. Publishing has been harder, for sure, but there are a lot of novels being published every year. My writing workshop had always been a good vehicle for short stories, but a lot of my students now—even undergraduates—are working on novels. I haven’t formulated my thoughts on AI, it is so new and has hit us so hard. Many of my students are using AI, especially when writing response papers to works of literature or peers, which I find appalling. That’s going to be a struggle. I tell my students, who are you fooling? If you feel that you want to be an artist, or a writer, then what’s the point of using AI? AI-generated stories are also just not that good. They’re almost too perfect, too well put-together, making moves that are easy to detect. There is something about human-written stories that are messy and exciting. But there are also plenty of students who want to do original work and don’t want anything to do with AI.

A dystopian motherland

From its headwaters near Mansarovar on the Tibetan Plateau to its confluence with the Ganga in India, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/faith-to-reality">the Karnali</a> remains one of the last great free-flowing rivers in the Himalaya. At a time when most major Asian rivers have been dammed by concrete, the Karnali still surges, migrates, floods and recedes according to its own natural rhythms. This sustains an entire living system -- wildlife, communities and cultures — that cannot be replicated once a river is turned into a staircase of reservoirs. The Karnali is a natural artery for western Nepal. It nourishes fertile floodplains, recharges aquifers, supports fisheries and connects remote communities.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251221101240_213faa0e9da42af63e6c4f8a41e23a96efbd9f29a1d148227d65d2f16bb64b53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251221101240_213faa0e9da42af63e6c4f8a41e23a96efbd9f29a1d148227d65d2f16bb64b53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Confluence of the Humla and Mugu Karnali.</figcaption> </figure>  Bardia National Park and its rich biodiversity, including the tiger and fresh water dolphins, depend on the river and its seasonal interaction with the floodplain and wetlands. Riverine birds, crocodilians, endemic fish, all depend on the river. Millions of people in Nepal and India rely on the Karnali (called Ghaghara in India) for household use, irrigation and livelihoods. This living river now faces <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dams-and-dreams-a-journey-down-the-karnali">a cascade of proposed hydropower projects</a>. So far, the Upper Karnali &nbsp;(900MW) and the massive Karnali-Chisapani (10,800MW) have been purposed. Both have been mired in controversy and have been delayed. Construction of smaller projects like the Bheri-Babai Diversion are already underway.&nbsp; The Upper Karnali is a Rs146 billion project first purposed in 2006. It started construction earlier this year with the Indian conglomerate GMR leading the task. Even so it faces a setback as Bangladesh cancelled the power purchase deal of 500MW.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109124_80c381c4299dd7e18dbbcacb26e567edc5cfffba76d428e3b325dd194eae8a47.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025122109124_80c381c4299dd7e18dbbcacb26e567edc5cfffba76d428e3b325dd194eae8a47" data-rendition-name="original" width="4284" height="5712" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Free-flowing Upper Karnali.</figcaption> </figure>  The project is located on the stupendous Karnali Bend where the water can be pushed through a 2.5km tunnel over a drop of 130m, creating a huge generation capacity. But Nepal’s move towards big dams comes at a time when scientists warn of more extreme weather events like floods and landslides in the already fragile Himalayan landscape. Nepal now needs investment in storage projects as most hydropower plants are of the run-of-river type, which means power generation drops in the dry season. But a piecemeal dam-by-dam approach risks destroying a unique resource for benefits that could be achieved elsewhere with far less ecological cost. Once a free-flowing river is fragmented, its sediment delivery is choked, fish migrations are cut off, floodplains dry out and local cultures that revolve around seasonal flows begin to unravel. These changes are effectively permanent.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109120_4f59b09b6e03889457b9b98d72d6b604d3519895f8825b4b03f486d67ea299af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025122109120_4f59b09b6e03889457b9b98d72d6b604d3519895f8825b4b03f486d67ea299af" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Local children play indigenous musical instrument.</figcaption> </figure>  “The Karnali is the last and most pristine Himalayan River left, most others are already exploited. It should be protected as a wild, scenic, free flowing river as a gift to future generations,” says activist Megh Ale, who wants the river to be developed as an eco-tourism corridor on the pilgrim trail to Mt Kailash and Mansarovar.&nbsp; “We have many big tributaries to the Karnali,” Ale adds. “We can keep the main stream of the river as free flowing, and develop hydro projects on the tributaries. More than 6,000MW can be produced without touching the main river stem.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_223faf7f50c43f3bf008a7745b90131fa91975689109533b71ed7d9dcdb8c53e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025122109128_223faf7f50c43f3bf008a7745b90131fa91975689109533b71ed7d9dcdb8c53e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1875" height="2500" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Rafters say Karnali is one of the best places for white water rafting in the world.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal has abundant alternatives to hydropower: solar energy has been hardly tapped, and integrating them with pump storage systems are cheap, quick to build and are low impact. Smarter siting and design, modern transmission links and regional power trading can deliver reliable energy without sacrificing the country’s last pristine river. Preserving the Karnali would also pay dividends in climate resilience: free-flowing rivers buffer <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-denial-in-the-himalaya">extreme floods and droughts</a>, carry sediment that builds deltas and replenishes nutrients on farmland, and provide insurance against glacial and monsoon variability.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109124_a5726642ee785b624ee3e6d81a051091c91a8d388dba8c33f4a03bab1fddc97f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025122109124_a5726642ee785b624ee3e6d81a051091c91a8d388dba8c33f4a03bab1fddc97f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Tharu women repair a channel fed by the Karnali, which is a life line for their farms.</figcaption> </figure>  The Karnali is also a cultural and economic asset in its own right. As a rare, undammed Himalayan river, it underpins nature-based tourism, scientific research, and a way of life for Indigenous and local communities. Kalashtham Tharu, 32, is an elephant mahout in Bardia, and says the Karnali is an important source of water for animals and farming. Diversion for irrigation near Chisapani has meant that a channel going into Bardia National Park has gone dry, affecting biodiversity and nearby farms. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109120_6d3a45a440263e859d64c427a8543c6ede5a447a411797d25a6a41d713d33e91.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025122109120_6d3a45a440263e859d64c427a8543c6ede5a447a411797d25a6a41d713d33e91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Panning for gold on the banks of the Karnali. She makes Rs200,000 per year. </figcaption> </figure>  Similarly, the Sonahar community in Bardia relies on the river to pan for gold, their sole source of income. Anita, 40, says there is much less water in the Karnali this year. On an average, she makes Rs200,000 from middlemen for the gold she pans during non-monsoon months. &nbsp; WILD RIVERS Around the world, countries are beginning to recognise the value of keeping a few great rivers wild. Protecting the Karnali would place Nepal at the forefront of that movement and strengthen efforts to seek international recognition for the river’s outstanding natural heritage. Any decision should be grounded in a transparent, basin-wide assessment that weighs the full social, ecological and economic costs—not just the megawatts on a project spreadsheet. That means evaluating alternatives, safeguarding critical habitats and migration routes, and recognising the rights and knowledge of the people who live along the river. It also means asking a simple question: If Nepal can meet its energy goals without damming the Karnali’s main stem, why wouldn’t it?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_3e357c863de55b397f09cfd666c762de297a8b07ac024a41a8bb5b9e8d3a76cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025122109128_3e357c863de55b397f09cfd666c762de297a8b07ac024a41a8bb5b9e8d3a76cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>River mining the Karnali in Kalaili district causing uneven landscape with the river flowing away from Bardia National park.</figcaption> </figure>  Advocates have petitioned Nepal’s Supreme Court to protect the Karnali, with a hearing scheduled in Kathmandu on 22 December. International lenders and investors should take note: Financing high-impact dams on the Karnali would run counter to emerging global standards on biodiversity, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dancing-with-the-river">climate resilience</a> and free-flowing river protection. Funding clean energy in Nepal should not require sacrificing the country’s most pristine river. For three decades, I have documented the Karnali from its source in Tibet to its entry into India, capturing the river’s seasons and the lives it sustains. The images I have captured and the voices of people who depend on the river, tell a simple truth: a free-flowing Karnali is irreplaceable. Once the concrete is poured, there is no going back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_760ae5218d5f7e961c198da0a6c8696247e34281752a2857de935f9e8aec2c5c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2025122109128_760ae5218d5f7e961c198da0a6c8696247e34281752a2857de935f9e8aec2c5c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1504" height="1502" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Inner sanctum of Mt Kailas in the vicinity of Manasarovar and Rakshas lakes in Tibet.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal has many options for generating power. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-karnali-portrait?%2F">It has only one Karnali</a>. Keeping this river wild would be a gift to the living Earth and to future generations — a legacy measured not in megawatts, but in life. Says Megh Ale: “We are very rich in natural resources but manage them very poorly. We want instant solutions but do not have a long-term vision. We are not against development but there needs to be a good balance with nature.” &nbsp;

electronics

Waste not, want not

Reincarnation of old phones in Nepal

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

The sins of our mothers

A dystopian motherland

The river of life