Under a gunmetal grey sky, the four of us stood for the Last Post on an expansive empty lawn as the crows wheeled overhead. The Nepal Army general and British Gurkha colonel saluted smartly in their uniforms, whilst the Ambassador and I bowed our heads. The red poppies in all our lapels symbolised remembrance and acknowledgment of the ultimate sacrifice by all men and women in the armed forces during times of conflict.It must have been the strangest Anzac Day commemoration ever. The grass, still soggy from yesterday’s rain, was dotted with crimson rose petals fallen from the luscious red wreathes. In turn we had laid them between the two flags, on the anniversary of the First World War Gallipoli landing by the ANZACs (Australia and New Zealand Army Corps), in remembrance of the dreadful battlefield losses that ensued on both sides and from so many nations. After the one minute silence in the deserted garden, the Reveille was trumpeted on an embassy iPhone.Since services began on 25 April 1916, this year 2020 was the first Anzac Day ever that Australians and New Zealanders were not able to gather nationwide to mark the anniversary, due to the social isolation battle against COVID-19. Instead, digitally shared messages urged individual calls to action -- messages of solidarity displayed in home windows, the laying of virtual poppies at the online cenotaph, and alone standing at dawn in driveways, gates and front doors to mark the moment #standatdawn.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d909c7e80680e06b355jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2699" height="2265"/><figcaption>Australian Ambassador Peter Budd, Lt-Gen Sarad Kumar Giri, Chief of General Staff, Nepal Army, Col Richard Goodman MBE, Commander, British Gurkhas Nepal and Lisa Choegyal Honorary Consul of New Zealand at the Anzac Day service on 25 April 2020 during the lockdown in Kathmandu. Photo: JAMES HAZELL</figcaption></figure>Every year the Australian Embassy hosts our Anzac Day service in Kathmandu, echoing solemn sunrise ceremonies all over Australia and New Zealand, with many young people as well as old brought together to mark this most important joint national occasion. Normally the garden is thronged with several hundred Australians, New Zealanders, Nepalis and the international community, enlivened by Nepali and Gurkha buglers and bagpipers, and followed by a slap-up Aussie breakfast that is part of the attraction.Last year as well as long term residents and tourists, several mountaineers joined us including Guy Cotter, Robert Mads Anderson and a couple of Sir Edmund Hillary’s grandchildren -- Russell Brice was absent, recovering from his fall from a rooftop restaurant. This year there are no expeditions and the mountains are closed to trekkers. Ambassador Pete and Emma boiled the kettle for coffee and offered us homemade Anzac biscuits in their empty house.I’m not sure when the Australian-hosted Anzac Day tradition began in Nepal, but is must have been around 1990 when the embassy moved to its current compound in Bansbari. Elizabeth Hawley regularly attended as New Zealand Honorary Consul before me. With no compunction she admitted to having delivered the exact same Anzac address every year, claiming no one ever noticed.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d949c7e80680e06b356jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1500">Although diplomatic relations between Nepal and Australia have existed since 1960, it was ambassador Diane Johnstone, affectionately known as ‘Call-me-Di’, who set up in Kathmandu from a cosy rented house in Thapathali in 1986 with a guitar-playing husband. The succession of early incumbents in the representational role were marked by life-changing events during their tenure – separation, divorce, engagement and marriage – including one emotional liaison with a Bollywood superstar that ended in tears. Over the decades, the mission has achieved many milestones in humanitarian and development aid, technical assistance and trade support.The popularity of Australian wine in Kathmandu dates back to one inspired ambassador who offered to import cases for his diplomatic friends -- and before the days of wine being available in the open market, he had many friends. Eventually both governments noticed when the embassy wine order exceeded that of much larger missions in London and Paris, dryly pointing out that every official Australian in Nepal must have been consuming about three dozen bottles a day. Aussie producers had the last laugh however, with their brands still established today as Nepal’s wine of choice amongst the chatterati.We wanted to do something special to commemorate the 100-year anniversary of Gallipoli on 25 April 2015. Thousands were gathering in Turkey, including the Prince of Wales and a ministerial delegation from Nepal. The UK had observed the outbreak of World War I with a dramatic moat-ful of 888,246 ceramic poppies around the Tower of London, representing all British and Commonwealth fatalities.Hoping to achieve a similarly grand gesture, the Gurkha commander conspired with us to ship 120,000 poppies from the British Legion in London, the idea being to carpet the grounds of the Australian ambassador’s home with a sea of scarlet. Each paper poppy raises at least a pound each but, thanks to British Gurkha generosity and skilled negotiations, boxes of poppies were delivered to the Australians with the Kiwi consulate paying only a nominal amount. At the last minute, however, the ambassador’s wife vetoed the idea on the grounds that it would be hard to tidy up afterwards and make a mess of her garden.The surfeit of poppies, plenty for future events, was soon erased from minds on that unforgettable 25 April five years ago. I had just returned home to Budanilkantha, kicked off my shoes and settled on the terrace with my laptop and the dogs when at 11:56 am the earthquake struck. Terracotta tiles rained off the roof, my car careened violently beneath the magnolia tree, and in the distance far below a pall of dust rose eerily above the assaulted city.No doubt, we all remember exactly where we were and how we felt at that fateful moment on Anzac Day 2015, when our lives were rocked forever.

Lisa Choegyal

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The strangest Anzac Day ever

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101140/636b75d59c7e80680e06240bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1035"/><figcaption>WE HAVE A LAUNCH: Elizabeth Hawley is flanked by American Ambassador Peter Bodde, Dr Bhekh Bahadur Thapa and Nepali Times editor Kunda Dixit at the launch of The Nepal Scene on 20 April 2015, just before the 2015 earthquake. Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption></figure>Next Friday, the Nepali Times will be publishing its millennial issue. It is getting on for 20 years since this august weekly first hit the newsstands, providing those of us who cannot read the Nepali language with insights into the news and media, and rescuing us from the bland reporting in The Rising Nepal.When I first arrived in Kathmandu the government daily, with its carefully filtered news, was the only English newspaper in circulation, the Royals and their exemplary activities reliably featuring in every headline. The depth of analysis could be summarised by the unwavering daily weather forecast: ‘Mainly fine throughout the kingdom.’Taking a lead from my boss <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jim Edwards</a>, the ruling Royals were never mentioned in those days except in terms of utmost respect and reverence. Political access was achieved by Jim’s strategic hobnobbing with court advisors and military aides, often over surreptitious cups of tea at dawn, or covert early morning walks through the paddy fields of Sanepa, avoiding the cow pats and stray dogs sleeping off a noisy night on the prowl.Today’s range of English-language dailies leaves us foreign guests better informed and spoiled for choice, although we are aware that to understand really what is going on the local broadsheets, news sites, blog spots and web pages tell a very different story. And for those of us still in the dark, the Nepali Times provides an invaluable weekly summary, entertaining evaluation and informed opinion.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101140/636b75d89c7e80680e06240cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="148">Kunda Dixit had come onto my radar long before he embarked on launching the Nepali Times as its creator, editor and publisher. Whilst an energetic young reporter with a passion for ecology, I had asked him to write the chapter on environmental issues in the Nepal Insight Guide of which, by a series of random coincidences, I was the producer. He came highly recommended by the acerbic <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2018/01/26/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Elizabeth Hawley</a>, Reuters correspondent in Kathmandu, with whom he had interned as a budding writer. With her rigorous reporting and uncompromising journalistic standards, this was high praise indeed.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-a-familys-destination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal: a family's destination</a>, Lisa ChoegyalThe illustrated format of the Apa Insight Guides was invented in the 1970s by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17968" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hans Hoefer</a>, a charismatic itinerant photographer and publisher based in Singapore and originally from southern Germany. In our world of Trip Advisor and Lonely Planet, it is hard to appreciate how revolutionary was this cheerful travel guide design, taking over from the dry and photo-less presentation of Baedekers. Before he sold the Apa series, Hans Hoefer had created dozens of Insight Guide books throughout Asia but the very first were Bali and Nepal, his two favourite hang outs.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/elizabeth-hawley-1923-2018/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Elizabeth Hawley 1923-2018</a>, Lisa ChoegyalTousle-haired and draped in cameras, I had been beguiled by Hans when we met early in 1974 at a Hindu Thaipusam festival in the Batu Caves, a colourful melee of millions of devotees in the back blocks of Malaysia. A new arrival in Asia, I was susceptible to his enthusiastic energy and ability to translate his passions into successful business.I was on my way to Nepal and once settled in Kathmandu, I helped with other South Asian titles, contracting expert writers and identifying promising photographers. It was a collaboration that lasted for years and covered books on Sagarmatha, Indian wildlife, hikes and bike routes in Nepal, as well as comprehensive guides to Bhutan, India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101140/636b75d99c7e80680e06240djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3835" height="2716"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Meanwhile in Kathmandu, the Nepali Times was changing the landscape of informed media. Kunda’s patrician profile and startling white head of hair is a familiar sight at newsworthy events and press gatherings around town.His fearless approach and relentless satire sometimes got him into trouble, but the paper could always be relied on for an articulate opinion and a balanced view, highlighting issues where others feared to tread.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-trips-before-tripadvisor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The trips before TripAdvisor</a>, Lisa ChoegyalKunda’s gravitas was also in demand at book launches and current affairs debates. He was an unforgiving facilitator of a panel discussion that launched <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/former-army-chief-rookmangud-katawal-memoir,1567" target="_blank" rel="noopener">General Rookmangud Katawal’s autobiography</a>, probing the finer political points amidst Kathmandu’s literati.Five days prior to the 2015 earthquake, Kunda was with us on a sunny afternoon in the Dwarika’s Hotel courtyard to launch the bulky two volumes of Elizabeth Hawley’s chronicles that portrayed the evolving political and social scene in Nepal through some turbulent times from 1988 to 2007.With Kunda’s assistance on finer linguistic niceties, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2018/01/26/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Mikel Dunham</a> and I had edited her monthly journal, which faithfully recorded the recent history of Nepal in a fresh light with her relentless accuracy, and without the benefit of hindsight. It had been a laborious task sorting through her extensive dusty ring binders and ancient computer files, with many diary entries having to be transcribed by hand or digitised from obsolete soft wear. Dr Bhekh Bahadur Thapa wrote the foreword, and the Nepali Times gave the book extensive coverage.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/the-hippie-era-in-kathmandu,837" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The unsuccessful hippie</a>, Lisa ChoegyalIt was several years later that Kunda collared me on a chilly winter evening at an ambassadorial reception. Both being dog lovers, we chatted innocuously about our labradors and my boxer before he sprang it on me. Would I like to contribute a fortnightly column about tourism and conservation? I had been asked before, but Kunda must have caught me at a weak moment, because this time I took a deep breath and agreed.So, in this issue #999, I thank the Nepali Times’ team for the opportunity, and for every Friday interpreting the news for us non-Nepali-literate residents. And to say that we look forward to the next 1,000 editions.

‘Mainly fine throughout the kingdom’

<h6>As the 65th year of the first ascent approaches, the mystery of a specially blended Chivas Regal is solved</h6> <figure><img width="1400" height="1062" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d6f49c7e80680e0314b5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>YO HO HO: Lord Hunt, Lisa Choegyal, Sir Chris Bonington and Elizabeth Hawley at 40th anniversary of the Everest ascent in 1993 in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>"I know he’s an imposter.” The short wiry man with weasel eyes hissed loudly in the row behind me, his voice husky with vehemence. “That can’t possibly be the real Duke of Argyll.”I smiled as the wail of bagpipes reverberated off the walls and the Duke sashayed his way down the length of the Hyatt ballroom in full highland dress – tight green jacket, bone buttons, clan tartan kilt and silver-mounted fur sporran swaying jauntily in time to the beat. Escorted by uniformed pipers, he bore aloft the elaborate gold-embossed bottle containing the rare 50-year-old Chivas Regal that was specially blended in a limited edition to celebrate the occasion, distilled the same year as the historic first ascent of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Top,425" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Mount Everest</a> in 1953.During the golden jubilee rehearsal, his whisky colleague Peter Prentice had told me with glee: “Torquhil Argyll is wearing only his second best gear this evening -- his main outfit is listed as a national treasure and cannot leave Inveraray Castle in Scotland.”Responding to the rousing music and drama of the moment, the audience rose to their feet in spontaneous applause as the bottle, along with a large cheque for the Himalayan Trust, was presented to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14421#.Wwl37zSFN0y" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sir Edmund Hillary</a> waiting on stage flanked by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3247#.Wwl7pjSFN0x" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tenzing Norgay’s</a> relatives and members of the Sherpa community. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d6f89c7e80680e0314b6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The festivities continued with Sherpa singing and dancing, feet sliding and stomping in celebration of the 50th anniversary in 2003. The men wore identical pale felt hats with their dark chubas, the women glowing in bright striped aprons, multi-coloured ribbons and intricate gold headdresses.June Hillary, resplendent in red velvet, leaned over to whisper with concern: “Seems like an awful lot of people here.” The huge room was filled with mountaineers, ambassadors, filmmakers, media, family and friends. So many had turned up that the Hyatt had to raid their freezers to ensure enough dinner for everyone.Heaps of cream silk khadas adorned the dignitaries, and guests wore distinctive turquoise sashes emblazoned with ‘Triumph on Everest’ and the date 29 May 2003, exactly 50 years after the highest mountain in the world had been scaled. Mine is still draped over a picture in my office, slightly faded but vivid with memories of that distant day that I had helped organise.Ed arrived at the Hyatt in a helicopter showering flower petals from a felicitation event with the Prime Minister, and the morning had been spent in the British Embassy garden – broadcast in real time by Television New Zealand with Nepal TV technicians.Presenting the show was New Zealand’s star host Mark Sainsbury, always genial with a quick wit lurking behind his luxuriant trademark moustache. <figure><img width="1400" height="1050" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d6fb9c7e80680e0314b7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Amidst the rose beds and yellow Ambassadorial residence, with a decorated elephant for added glamour, a dazzling array of Everesters rotated in front of Mark’s live microphone – multi-summiting Sherpas, veterans from the 1953 expedition, legends such as Messner, Habeler and Breashears. And of course Sir Ed, elderly and warm in the humid May sunshine. The Ambassador’s stylish French wife had set aside their study as a sanctuary for Ed and June, and I asked if they needed a shower to cool off. “Not necessary, Lisa. We’re not fussy like that!” June retorted.It was of course a British expedition in 1953, even though the first to summit were a Kiwi and Tenzing Norgay from Darjeeling. The Brits have been gracious in hosting the Everest-Sagarmatha-Chomolungma anniversaries ever since. Elizabeth Hawley and Chris Bonington took me to the 1993 40th celebration in the Ambassador’s drawing room where I met the original expedition’s fearsome leader Lord John Hunt, mellowed into a charming old man. In 2013 the 60th took place in the Defence Attache’s house as the Residence was undergoing timely earthquake strengthening.The then-Chief Secretary (now Nepal Ambassador to China) and Everest leader Leela Mani Paudyal did the honours, with Reinhold Messner and New Zealand’s Lydia Bradey jointly cutting an anniversary cake, their speeches lost to a faulty microphone. And next week the 65th will again be marked by Nepal, Britain and New Zealand.It was three years after the Kathmandu golden jubilee that Torquhil and Peter asked me to arrange another Chivas ceremony, this time close to the Hillary home in a classy Auckland restaurant full of showy begonias and New Zealand wine masters, hosted by their Paris-based boss.The plan was to present Sir Ed with another large cheque for the Himalayan Trust and in return to retrieve the most expensive bottle of whisky of all time for the Chivas Brothers Archive in Speyside, Scotland’s oldest distillery, where it now resides.There was some confusion and red faces when it came to finding the precious bottle – for safekeeping it had been carried back from Nepal to UK, but a search of Torquhil’s rambling Scottish castle drew a blank. To widespread relief it was eventually tracked down in the bottom left-hand drawer of the brand manager’s desk in the London office.That balmy summer evening in New Zealand, Sir Ed had as usual prepared notes for his speech. On the back of an old envelope in spidery handwriting, he muddled up whom he was thanking for what bottle and for which cheque. I gently put him right, but I do regret not having kept that envelope.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/Interview-with-Amelia-Hillary-grand-daughter-of-Sir-Edmund-Hillary,2443" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Third generation Hilary</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3170#.Wwl5VjSFN0x" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sherpa Hillary</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/hillary-clinton-meets-edmund-hillary,994" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hillary meets Hillary</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/funeral-of-Sir-Edmund-Hillary,1100" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sir Ed's funeral</a>

Past Everest anniversaries

It was pure drama: the political transition in Madhes unfolded by the dawn’s early light. At around 4AM on Monday, Province Head Sumitra Subedi Bhandari quietly departed Janakpur saying she was headed to Kathmandu for health reasons.&nbsp;
Outgoing Chief Minister Jitendra Sonal, whose coalition had begun to unravel, even saw her off, asking supporters to clear the road for her motorcade.
But an hour later, instead of continuing on to the capital, Bhandari stopped in Bardibas on the East-West Highway. There, as the sun started rising over the misty plains, she administered the oath of office to Saroj Kumar Yadav of the CPN-UML, invoking Article 168(3) of the Constitution.&nbsp;
Bhandari is also a member of the CPN-UML. The provision she invoked is typically used only after coalitions fail under Article 168(2), and the timing and location of the swearing-in have since drawn scrutiny.
Bhandari was subsequently relieved of her duties, and former National Planning Commission member Surendra Labh Karna was sworn in as the new Madhes province head on Tuesday.
Sonal had formed his government barely a month ago, with the backing of 56 provincial lawmakers but it became evident he would not secure the 54 votes needed to survive a confidence motion.&nbsp;
Several lawmakers in his coalition publicly signalled they would abstain. Still, the seven-party alliance that opposed Yadav’s appointment argues that the Province Head, who is the highest constitutional rank in the provincial structure, acted prematurely and under pressure from central UML party command.&nbsp;
A coalition of seven parties, including the Nepali Congress (NC), had been urging the Province Head to invite them to form a new government under Article 168(2). At the same time, the UML, which had been holding demonstrations outside the Province Head’s office in Janakpur, was calling for the formation of a minority government under Article 168(3).
The alliance of the seven parties that included the NC and Maoist Centre took to the streets. By mid-morning, protests had escalated outside Madhes Bhawan with cadre vandalising both the Chief Minister’s office and the Province Head’s office.
This was the third government in Madhes to fall since the 2022 provincial elections, and it follows a similar pattern. The previous Chief Minister Satish Kumar Singh of the Janamat Party, resigned before a scheduled confidence vote after losing the support of his own party and others including NC and LSP.&nbsp;
His resignation unfolded amid nationwide GenZ protests against corruption, demanding accountability and reform. The recurring instability points to a structural tension in Nepal’s federalism.&nbsp;
Provincial politics remain closely tied to alliances shaped in Kathmandu. The withdrawal of support by parties like the NC and Maoist Centre in provinces often reflects national-level calculations rather than provincial priorities.
As a result, the Provincial Assembly is repeatedly consumed by survival of the coalition instead of governance. Development work stalls. Budget execution slows. Public frustration grows. In a province that was at the forefront of the movement for federalism to counter what is seen as neglect, apathy and discrimination by Kathmandu, the sense that the system may not delivering on its promise is becoming increasingly pronounced.
If federalism is to be strengthened, provincial governments must be able to function with a degree of autonomy that currently exists more in principle than in practice. Otherwise, the perception that federalism is costly, unstable, and ineffective will continue to expand, providing fertile ground for anti-federal sentiment that is already gaining traction.
Earlier examples such as the NC General Secretary Bishwo Prakash Sharma in January calling for a new government in Madhes led by his party demonstrates how the central party leadership deliberately intervenes in provincial affairs. His remarks came during campaigns for bi-elections in Madhes when former CM Singh had been in office for six months only.&nbsp;
Likewise, in early June 2024, the federal coalition in Kathmandu shifted from a Maoist Centre and NC to form a new alliance between the NC &nbsp;and the UML. Within a day, coalition negotiations in Madhes changed to mirror this.
UML leaders publicly stated: “The issues at the federal and provincial levels will be resolved together.” This indicated that the realignment in Madhes followed national party decisions rather than provincial deliberation.
The events that unfolded in Madhes are a reminder that federalism in Nepal is still in transition, and that its success depends on political actors honouring the constitutional framework.

Chronic instability in the Madhes

New and old, businessmen and former diplomats, engineers and academics — they have all been trooping to the Election Commission to register political parties ahead of the Sunday deadline.
Till press time Thursday, five new parties had been registered and 21 new parties were in the process of applying. Behind the scenes, new parties are head-hunting, well-known figures are shopping for parties to join, while older parties are splitting or uniting to form new united parties.
“It is reason for optimism that people are enthused to form new parties,” notes political analyst Indra Adhikari. But, she adds, this does not mean that despite the celebrity status they will win votes and succeed in politics.
The outlier in all this are the Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, which are still licking the wounds after being swept out of power by the GenZ protests in September. Neither are too keen on elections because of the prospect of losing badly.
Former prime minister K P Oli is the most recalcitrant, and seems to want to scuttle elections so Parliament will be reinstated. After announcing that he was stepping down, the NC’s Sher Bahadur Deuba has had a change of heart in Singapore and is gunning to restore Parliament.
Neither party and their leaders have shown any remorse for the 8 September massacre, or understood the outrage on the streets against their decades-long incompetence and corruption. &nbsp;
Among those registering parties are various GenZ youth groups and family members of those killed during the September protests. Notable among the new parties certified this week was Gatishil Loktantrik Party (गतिलो) backed by Buddha Air founder Birendra Basnet and led by sociologist Dinesh Prasai. Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang’s Shram Sanskriti Party is also registered.
Energy and Infrastructure Minister in the interim government Kulman Ghising has backed the Ujyalo Nepal with former secretary Anup Kumar Upadhyaya as its chair. Ghising has been playing coy about his political ambitions, and is planning to resign from his cabinet post before elections.&nbsp;
Ghising had been talking to Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP about joining, but that negotiation failed. Former RSP lawmaker Sumana Shrestha was supposed to join Ghising, but pulled out following Ghising’s reluctance to resign from government.
Ghising has much public support because he is credited with ending power cuts as head of the Nepal Electricity Authority, but is now getting flak for being unwilling to give up his ministerial portfolios while still wanting to contest elections. &nbsp;
Ujyalo has hit other snags. GenZ activist Tashi Lhazom, who was considered for a Cabinet position last month but was dropped by Prime Minister Sushila Karki, has said she is not in Ujyalo despite being listed as a Central Committee member. Another member has said that he will not be a part of Ujyalo due its “a lack of political culture”.
Even though Nepalis from across backgrounds and professions are eager to participate in the country’s new political landscape, there are doubts about the structure of their parties, ideology and electoral platforms.&nbsp;
Hurriedly set up parties without a shared philosophy have less chance of political influence and longevity. For example, the RSP was formed just months before the 2022 polls to become the fourth-largest party in Parliament, has lost its momentum, and its leader is in jail.
“Parties like the RSP, which did some positive work after being elected, have still not been able to establish a clear ideological roadmap or organisational structure,” Adhikari says. &nbsp;“It is easy to form parties, the real work goes into building an institution, which is the hard part”
Meanwhile, despite expectations of increased and inclusive youth participation not just at the polling booths but also on the ballot, only a few GenZ-led parties are applying at the Election Commission. They include the Rastriya Pariwartan Party and the Rastriya GenZ Party Nepal. Most other parties are led by men in their 40s, even in their 70s.&nbsp;
Analysts note that despite hopes of young blood in politics, Nepalis are still inclined to trust those with experience, as evidenced by GenZ’s choice of Sushila Karki to succeed KP Oli as Prime Minister after the September protests.&nbsp;
“So it will be difficult for young Nepalis without prior political experience to lead parties and it will be even more difficult for them to cultivate enough public trust to get votes,” says Adhikari.&nbsp;
Then there are the old political players, who have been breaking up and making up new alliances. Resham Chaudhary quit his Nagarik Unmukti Party and registered a new one.
Last week, Puspha Kamal Dahal’s Maoist Centre, and Madhav Kumar Nepal’s Unified Socialists merged along with smaller leftist parties to form the Nepali Communist Party (NCP). Disgruntled former UML members like Bhim Rawal have also joined the NCP. On the other hand, Janardan Sharma has fallen out with Dahal and is going his own way.&nbsp;
Even though the NC, UML and NCP show little sign that they have learnt their lesson and will be turning a new leaf, they still have the party organisation and vote banks to fall back on at election time in the runup to 5 March. &nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “At the end of the day, Nepali society remains hyper-partisan. And although the newly-formed parties and their popular candidates may give older leaders a run for their money, established parties will still benefit from their solid vote base.”

Party Time

You do not have to be a climate expert or atmospheric pandit to claim that Nepal is not pulling its weight on the grand narratives of the Anthropocene. As a heavily populated ‘country-on-an-incline’ from the Tarai to the Himalaya, Nepal is a thermometer of global warming.&nbsp; Its people are human witnesses to environmental and climate breakdown, but remain mute observers to the unfolding crises. Nepal should be leading the pack at the COP30 climate conference in Belém, backed by science and lived experience. But it is doubtful that two of the most crucial climate-related subjects central to the culture, economies and human wellbeing in the Himalaya and South Asia will be discussed at the summit that started this week in Brazil.&nbsp; The first topic that should be raised at COP is Black Carbon or the South Asian Brown Cloud, made up of tiny suspended particles in the air. This is not just a transboundary health hazard, there is now enough science to make the case that Himalayan snowmelt is accelerated significantly by the albedo effect that makes ice melt faster because of reduced reflectivity. But Kathmandu has not been able to make governments near and far listen. In 2014, I wrote a short piece published in Outlook magazine explaining why India’s Prime Minister Modi looking northward from a SAARC Summit retreat in Dhulikhel was unable to see the Jugal Himal range barely 30km away. His view was obscured by the pollution layer arriving from as far away as Lahore with substantial contribution from the Delhi region. That summit itself was an opportunity for Nepal to inform the Indian and Pakistani prime ministers that much of the haze, smog, dust and soot that settles on our slopes was generated in Sindh, Punjab, Punjab, Haryana, Western UP and Delhi NCR, carried by prevailing westerly winds up to the Himalaya. The forest fires within Nepal as well as Kathmandu Valley’s pollution contribute to the haze, but the shroud that suffocates the region through autumn, winter and spring is mostly transnational. Last year, these anthropogenic fine aerosols actually curled over the Bay of Bengal and invaded the airspace of Sri Lanka and Maldives.&nbsp; Even as the soot particles accelerate glacial melt and impact everything from infrastructure to public health, the most visible effect is on tourism. Nepal’s economic future is based on tourism, and much of this relies on being able to see the snow mountains. Why should travellers go to Pokhara if they cannot see the Annapurnas?&nbsp; Hoteliers in Nagarkot have started a campaign: ‘Visit Nagarkot 2025: More than Sunrise and Sunset’. While clever, the slogan is a response to the acclaimed Himalayan vista from Everest to the Annapurnas from the hill station, now obscured by the brown curtain of haze for most of the year. As the bellwether country of South Asia when it comes to the climate crisis, Nepal must build diplomatic confidence to reach out to the governments of Pakistan and India even in their present state of antagonism. Kathmandu must launch ‘haze diplomacy’ for its own sake and for the region.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113001132_16c9941da7b31c1d4683c06dc0f8a572803240701270606848851f915140329c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113001132_16c9941da7b31c1d4683c06dc0f8a572803240701270606848851f915140329c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1005" height="695" loading="lazy" alt="permafrost"> </figure>  IMPERMANENT FROST&nbsp; Permafrost is understood mostly as a phenomenon of the Arctic, Antarctica, Siberia and Alaska. Mountains elsewhere did not figure, though it was natural for the ground to freeze all year round at high altitudes.&nbsp; In the Himalaya, besides the snowfields and glaciers, frozen moisture binds rocks and stabilises slopes. But global warming is melting the permafrost that used to cement mountain flanks, including boulders, sand and scree slopes. Some of the debris (गेग्रान) did tumble down, but much of it remained entombed on high, thanks to permafrost. Pokhara Valley and the Seti River reaching all the way up to the base of the Annapurnas, is the best place to observe this dance of geology between gravity and the mountain range. Rubble from the collapse about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-the-seti-disaster">700 years ago of paleo-Annapurna IV </a>created the sediment field on which Pokhara is situated today. However, much of the debris from the crumbled mountain is still lodged up on and around Annapurna IV, but the binding is loosening with the warming earth. A <a href="https://www.icimod.org/event/analysing-permafrost-in-the-hindu-kush-himalaya-using-open-access-tools/">2024 report by the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD)</a> indicates that global warming is thawing the permafrost across High Asia. Among the unintended consequences of climate breakdown is that mountains and moraines are collapsing, with <a href="https://www.icimod.org/press-release/everest-region-a-hotspot-of-cryosphere-linked-hazards-icimods-new-study-on-nepals-2024-thame-flood-confirms/">cascading impact</a> that includes glacial lake outburst floods, reduced groundwater recharge as well as winter flow in the Ganga, Indus and Brahmaputra. No one has calculated the total volume of rubble locked in by permafrost across the Himalaya. Despite the increased risk, there is accelerated construction of highways, hydropower projects, housing and tourism infrastructure across the Himalaya. While the COP conferences discuss rising oceans and receding glaciers (without doing much about it), Himalayan permafrost has been melting unremarked. In their path-breaking September 2024 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-not-so-permanent-frost">article in Nepali Times</a>, Wilfried Haeberli and Alton C Byers argued that the extreme events of the past few years that led to mountain and moraine collapses, unleashing destructive debris flows downstream, were the result of melting permafrost. Haeberli and Byers suggest that the avalanches and floods including those of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Anatom-of-a-Himalayan-tsunami,1330">Seti (2012)</a>, <a href="https://www.icimod.org/article/understanding-the-chamoli-flood-cause-process-impacts-and-context-of-rapid-infrastructure-development/">Chamoli (2021)</a>, Birendra Tal (2023), <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2772883825000251">Sikkim (2023)</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">Thame (2024)</a>, <a href="https://himat.org/publication/byers-rockfall-induced-2019/">Barun (2017)</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/drones-to-the-rescue-in-melamchi">Melamchi (2021)</a> were the result of the thawing of frozen ground. They say that the collapse of the lateral moraine on the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">South Lhonak glacial lake</a> in Sikkim on 4 October 2023 that swept away more than 100 people, destroyed the $1 billion Chungthang Dam as well as houses, roads and farms far downstream, was also caused by cloudburst on a lateral moraine that had lost its permafrost adhesive. There will be permafrost sceptics, as there have been climate change deniers. But it is time to wake up to the reality that the Himalayan peaks are no longer the immutable sentinels as regarded by humanity since prehistoric times.&nbsp; Modern society has pumped so much greenhouse gas into the atmosphere that now even the mountains are giving up. And we have not even begun to think about the bacteria and viruses locked away in the permafrost up the slope.&nbsp; Loss of permafrost adds to the cumulative impact of climate breakdown, including extreme weather events, drought and cloudbursts, heat waves in the plains affecting lives and livelihoods, creating mass migration, social unrest, and upending politics and geopolitics. The government and polity of Nepal have a duty to themselves and the larger humanity to wake up to the climate breakdown. The Sagarmatha Sambaad conclave organised by the Government in May failed to emerge as a pulpit for global warming and associated ills. Our political class, bureaucracy and academia should make up for lost opportunities to rise to the occasion and take the lead.&nbsp; Kanak Mani Dixit is writer, commentator and founding editor of Himal Southasian.

Climate of tragedy and apathy

The very first frame in The Lama’s Son starts with a vision of Shangrila and the quest of a mythical utopia in the Himalaya when the rest of the world is crumbling away. It is also the personal search of filmmaker Kesang Tseten, but what he finds there are adherents of the Bon Po faith clinging to the last remnants of a culture as it erodes away like the sandstone cliffs of Mustang. “It was while editing the documentary that the story became distilled: how does what we see in the high Himalaya relate to the notion of the Shangrila idyll that especially the West ascribed to them,” asked Tseten during a recent trip to Kathmandu from Berne where he now lives. He continued: “Often and perhaps rightly criticised as an orientalist construct, I wondered if there was any basis at all to the Shangrila notion, and I hung the film on that idea.”&nbsp; Tseten takes us to the vast visas of Mustang and Dolpo, a landscape of his Tibetan ancestors. This is as much an intimate documentation of families on Nepal’s Himalayan rimland torn between remoteness and globalness as it is about Tseten’s own quest for rootedness.&nbsp; We start from Lubra, a 3,000m village in Mustang the 15 households of which follow the Bon faith. Lama Tsultrim is from a 900-year-old lineage of the animist faith and an exponent of the tradition that is slowly being subsumed first by Buddhism and now modernism. For Tseten, the material is familiar, and not at all exotic as it is for non-Nepalis and indeed for many urban Nepalis. Bon, founded in Tibet, predates Buddhism, but over time, the two religions have come to resemble each other.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_ecf8148fbaa17b93c81ddfa3ed244bed266e3ef6af0cd5e6ca7b64c181b97d45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113111156_ecf8148fbaa17b93c81ddfa3ed244bed266e3ef6af0cd5e6ca7b64c181b97d45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  ‘Both believe in karma, rebirth, and that humans can become enlightened. Nature and spirits are predominant in Bon, and rituals are what keep them benign and alight,’ says Tseten, who rarely narrates in his documentaries. “This is not really a personal film as such, but it has a point of view,” Tseten said. “I decided to have a voice-over on this one and cast my presence in the film.”&nbsp; Lubra's Lama Tsultrim is called upon to perform rituals from Kagbeni and other villages, but there is no one to continue the tradition after him, which is passed from father to son. Lama Tsultrim’s son (hence the title of the film) is a sushi chef in New York and has been gone for 20 years. “The Lama is like a setting sun, his son should come back and take over his father’s responsibilities,” says a local youngster chatting with friends. “If he dies tomorrow, where do we go? We can’t just light butter lamps ourselves to the gods.” It is not only the Lama’s son who has left. The village is nearly empty, and more are planning to leave. One of them is Chimi, a teacher who will be joining her fiancé who is an Uber driver in New York. Her brother is already in Hong Kong. In Lo Manthang a local is back home for a three-month vacation after being in New York for 12 years. A shopkeeper was in Japan for several years, and has returned. “Everything has changed, our language, our tsampa, our religion. We used to work and live together, now the children live separately,” says a middle-aged woman. “There are roads now, and vehicles stop right outside our house, but what’s the point? No one stays home.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_47b4c4984fa33e42791b16dba1f078aaa7f9d8bd51ca3bfd5415b436c3a0bf2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113111156_47b4c4984fa33e42791b16dba1f078aaa7f9d8bd51ca3bfd5415b436c3a0bf2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  Like most of Tseten’s films, The Lama’s Son is an honest documentation of a place and people whose lifestyle, culture and heritage cling precariously to the past. In Dri village we come across local women filling their buckets with water. Tseten asks them why the village is so empty: “Where is everyone?” The women reply that they are “here, there and everywhere”. Then it is their turn to ask Tseten about where he lives and what he is doing in their village. Migration is a recurring theme in Tseten’s documentaries from We Corner People, In Search of the Riyal, or Saving Dolma. His previous film Diversity Plaza documented the lives of Nepali and Tibetan emigrants in Jackson Heights in the borough of Queens in New York.&nbsp; Diversity Plaza was shown at DOC NYC in 2023, and The Lama’s Son will be one of only two Asian films shown next week at one of the biggest documentary film festivals in the world.&nbsp; “The Lama’s Son is not loud, not attention grabbing but intimate, so I was surprised they chose a quiet film for a big, flashy event,” Tseten told us. In Lama’s Son, we also see how climate breakdown is impacting Nepal’s trans-Himalayan regions. Lama Tsultrim shows us the aftermath of a recent glacial flood that swept away houses and fields. The debris-covered farms are as hard as cement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_c82126a3c2dc4577b99beb9bef20aafa16f532a3f41e59caea17c93914c59fff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251113111156_c82126a3c2dc4577b99beb9bef20aafa16f532a3f41e59caea17c93914c59fff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  The nearby village of Dhey at 3,900m is a high and dry cold desert. Farmers get one crop in a year, but the springs have gone dry and there is no snow in winter. So they are relocating to New Dhey, closer to the road. We follow Kesang Tseten to Samling in Dolpo, which at 4,200m is another Bon village. Locals are preparing for the Walchu festival in which Lama Sherrab carries out elaborate rituals to appease spirits that can turn malevolent. But unlike Lama Tsultrim in Lubra, Lama Sherrab has a community of lamas to help him, including two sons, one of whom will eventually take on his role. We move on to the adjacent village of Bicher and listen in as locals talk about how despite being dirt poor, they thrive in scarcity and are resilient. “We wear sheepskin, eat stew and yak meat, and drink wine. But we are very poor, we have nothing. Look at how dirty our clothes are. We may be dirty, but we have few illnesses,” says one. But even here in Upper Dolpo, a week’s walk from the nearest road, things are changing. There are mobile phones, readymade clothes and instant noodles.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_d1472165cfa9ffa6edbf72de59167e8cbddcc2bf4a7928f7830e099966259a78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251113111156_d1472165cfa9ffa6edbf72de59167e8cbddcc2bf4a7928f7830e099966259a78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  At the Walchu ritual, Tseten watches men and women with hand-woven blankets and down jackets sing and dance after the main ceremony. He narrates: “Bon is sustained by a way of life that fosters a fine but fragile balance between nature and people, where humans come before gods. This is what lies at the heart of Shangrila if there is such a thing.” The film then takes us half-way around the world to a Bon centre in New York, but (spoiler alert) the eponymous Lama’s son never appears. He did not want to be filmed, but it makes for a more powerful portrayal of the life of emigrants forever trapped between two worlds. “Bon villages may be in danger, but the Bon has spread widely across the world,” narrates Tseten, a director who likes to call his storytelling ethnographic, and avoids coming to an apt conclusion. Lama Sherrab’s words after the Walchu ritual is a perfect segue:&nbsp; “Whether you say om mani padme hum (in Buddhism) or matri mi yu (in Bon) they are the same. When you go up, it’s the same heavenly realm. If you go down, it’s still the lord of death who awaits. There isn’t a separate heaven and hell for Buddhists and Bon, it has to be the same for both.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312110_82817ef48840bb6baa1732d5b0b90c90ead2f9bd9eb0c289940fa61d8058de8d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025111312110_82817ef48840bb6baa1732d5b0b90c90ead2f9bd9eb0c289940fa61d8058de8d" data-rendition-name="original" width="7087" height="10004" loading="lazy" alt="The Lama's Son NT"> </figure>  The Lama’s Son by Kesang Tseten, 2025 Shunyata Films To be screened at DOC NYC 16 November at 2:05PM local time, Online: 17-30 November Details <a href="https://www.docnyc.net/film/the-lamas-son/">here</a>.