The pronunciation of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/english-is-not-the-be-all-and-end-all">English</a> words can be quite difficult for those of us who attended government schools where phonetics were not part of the curriculum. English pronunciation has no rules anyway, and way too many exceptions.
While we may understand the meanings and proper contexts of words, we often struggle with their correct pronunciation. However, this is not my primary concern. Admittedly, my pronunciation can also be odd, incorrect, and even amusing at times, but I have something else that is serious to discuss.
I often feel a sense of discomfort in my mouth when I come across words that contain many letters. There seems to be a disconnect between what my mind intends to say and what actually comes out. My thoughts may be clear, but when I try to speak, the sound that comes out is different from what I intended.
At times, my nerves get the better of me, making it difficult to even say the word at all. I understand that these situations are normal but they still can affect my self-esteem. It makes my learning process tough. The only relief for me is that I have acknowledged the issue.
The first time I truly recognised my struggle with the word ‘acknowledgement’ was while reading a book to my daughter. I noticed the author’s acknowledgment section and thought it would be a great opportunity to show her how many people contribute to getting a book published.&nbsp;
However, when I attempted to read it aloud, I found myself unable to do so. I tried to mentally dissect the word and speak it, but nothing worked.
Despite preparing myself repeatedly, the moment I tried to say it, my tongue felt paralysed. That day, my daughter stepped in to help me pronounce it, but it took nearly a year before I could say it without feeling anxious. Generally, I rely on those around me or an online dictionary for assistance. I break the word down, write it in Nepali, and practice it multiple times, which helps me pronounce it correctly.&nbsp;
Yet, the very next day, when I need to use it again, my nerves kick in, and I find myself questioning whether I should just choose a different word. I stay committed to improving, and while I do make mistakes, I continue to learn. But sometimes, I feel like giving up and search for an easier word instead. Yet, when I’m speaking, that challenging word often resurfaces in my mind and slips out. Others may not notice, but I certainly do, and it disrupts the flow of my conversation, leading to more mistakes.
I know, over the time, I have improved a lot. However, there are thousands of such words and they come my way in different circumstances. I worked in the &nbsp;subscription department of a magazine for a short time. There I learned the meaning of ‘subscription’ but it took many years for me to pronounce it correctly.&nbsp;
After leaving the job, I encountered with the word when I switched myself from TV to YouTube in 2014. &nbsp;
Every this and that YouTuber was asking their audience to subscribe their channel. I used to utter the word every time the Nepali YouTuber said ‘subscribe my channel’ (without the ‘to’). I would laugh thinking until and unless I can pronounce the word correctly, who would ‘subscribe my channel’ if I had one. I could not say “Grahak Bannus” for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mobile-nepal-is-hooked-on-youtube">YouTube </a>as I used to request while working for the magazine subscription.
I have been exploring a new approach lately. When I anticipate discussing a specific topic, I create a list of key words that I know I need to include. If there are words I find challenging to pronounce, I take the time to practice them. Although this method has not produced immediate results, I remain committed to reducing my mistakes. How long will it take? I am not sure, but I continue to practice diligently.&nbsp;
Recently, I delivered a presentation at a conference in Sri Lanka on how the Constitution and laws have protected <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/can-nepal-elections-change-its-male-stream-politics">women’s roles in Nepal’s politics</a> over the past decade. I had mentally prepared myself to avoid the term ‘constitutionalised’ but my ingrained habits took over.&nbsp;
As I spoke, that word slipped out, and I found myself struggling. However, surprisingly, I did not feel nervous. I maintained my flow and continued speaking. The word came up again, and while I felt uncomfortable, I did not let it derail me. I focused on sharing other points confidently and remained composed throughout.
A few weeks ago during a meeting, I found myself struggling with the word ‘accompanied’. I had gone over it the night before, hoping it would come to me easily.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/lionel-messi-the-goat">Lionel Messi the goat</a>, Anbika Giri
Unfortunately, it popped into my mind at the wrong moment. It was the first time I openly acknowledged that certain words can trip me up. Thankfully, my colleagues stepped in to help me finish my accompan…ied.
Since that day, I have been diligently practicing it, hoping that next time it will flow smoothly and not trip up my tongue. I will not deny that I felt a wave of nervousness and shyness, but I also managed to laugh at myself, which helped me relax and keep the conversation going.
Lately, I have been working on getting comfortable with the term ‘statistician’. I know I will be using it a lot soon. I am just hoping that by the time I need to say that ‘the data I am discussing has been analysed by a skilled statistician’, my brain and tongue are in sync.

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Keeping brain and tongue in sync

Before the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trumpet-call">US presidential election </a>last month, my 17-year-old daughter asked, “Who do you think will win? How will it affect the world?” Just as I was about to respond, she jumped in with her own insights.&nbsp;
“I don’t believe American economic and foreign policies will change much, but the global perception of the US election will shift,” and she continued, “if Kamala wins, she’ll be the first woman president and the first woman of colour to hold that office. On the other hand, if Trump wins, it could hurt American’s pride.”
My follow-up question led to a new word that I was about to be introduced to in my life-long quest to master the English language: ‘felony’. She said: “How can Americans take pride in having a president with a felony conviction?”
I nodded vaguely, trying to figure out what ‘felony’ meant. What has Trump done now? My daughter simplified it for me, and explained that he has been convicted of numerous criminal offenses.&nbsp;
Since that conversation, the word ‘felony’ has popped up often both online and in my conversations with people. Does some human algorithm also exist, that has a way of figuring out what you are talking about?
My daughter has become my most steadfast English language teacher. And the best thing is, I do not have to pay her. And I do not have to feel embarrassed about asking questions. It helps that she is incredibly patient with me, and is usually available whenever I need her help.&nbsp;
She has also worked hard to help me improve my unusual pronunciation of the word ‘available’ which for some reason I could never say properly. She attended an English medium school from a young age, and this helped her to learn the language naturally.&nbsp;
Back when she was in Grade 1, she asked me why I seemed uncomfortable speaking English. Had I struggled in school, or had I failed English? As she grew older, she realised that in Nepal there are two distinct educational paths: one in which students struggle to speak and read in English, and another in which they face similar challenges with Nepali.
Sometimes, my daughter takes advantage of my unfamiliarity with certain words. A few Dasains ago, we went out for lunch together. She had a full pocket of cash, and when the bill arrived, she suggested we either split it or “go Dutch”.&nbsp;
I wasn’t sure what Holland had to do with it, so I opted to split the bill. She had ordered more items than I did, and in the end, I ended up paying more than my fair share. After we settled the bill, she explained what “going Dutch” meant. I knew the concept, but did not know how it was referred to in English. I still joke that she took linguistic advantage of me.
It is not just the English language, my daughter has been instrumental in helping me grasp the global discourse on sexuality. She encouraged me to approach the topic with curiosity instead of judgment, especially when I do not know enough about the subject. It was through her insights that I learned about the evolution of the term “gay” which originally described a sense of carefree joy and happiness before it came <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10644">to signify homosexuality</a>, particularly among men.
Together, we explore new words that have entered the language and their context, deepening my understanding. She continually shares the latest Gen Z slang like IDK, fr, sus, and iykyk, etc. Sometimes I ask her for clarification, and other times I google them before responding.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/english-is-not-the-be-all-and-end-all">English is not the be-all and end-all</a>
During a conversation about my friends, she candidly told me that I was being “salty”. At​ first, I struggled to understand, thinking it had to do with my feelings being hurt. Noticing​ my confusion, she took the time to explain that I was upset over trivial matters, which I​ really shouldn’t be.
I had heard the Argentinian football legend Lionel Messi was referred to as ‘the GOAT’ and often wondered why. He is such an incredible player and always so kind in public. So, whenever I heard or saw the term GOAT, I would picture an actual goat in my mind.&nbsp;
During one of our casual conversations, I asked my daughter why people refer to Messi as a goat, is it because he is so incredibly agile? At first, she burst out laughing, but then she explained that the acronym meant ‘greatest of all time’. Nowadays, whenever Messi is playing my daughter points to the monitor, and explaims: “Look, Ama, Messi the goat.”
My daughter has become like a life coach, teaching me English while offering straightforward life lessons and helping keep me grounded. When she showed curiosity about my English abilities, we both agreed to help each other grow and my daughter has truly embraced that commitment with heartfelt sincerity and love.&nbsp;

Lionel Messi the goat

For a long time, I believed that being able to speak, read, and understand English meant having the power of knowledge. In hindsight, I also realise that if learning English was simply like picking up another language, my journey would have been much smoother and definitely more enjoyable.&nbsp;
I took pride in learning Maithili from my mother and Tharu from my father’s workplace, and those experiences were both fun and fulfilling.
Previous episodes of this column, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi">Angrezi</a>, explain how I struggled with self-doubt, feelings of inferiority, and low self-esteem because of my deficient English language. When I came to the capital, I realised that English held a different significance in this city.&nbsp;
In <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/the-thappad">my village in Sunsari</a>, it was often seen as a way to show off. In Kathmandu, it represented much more than that: it was a source of power, a means of access, and a gateway to opportunities.
During my first visit to Kathmandu in the late 1990s, I listened to a relative unleashing every possible curse word she knew in English to her sister-in-law. That outburst was triggered by the sister-in-law reporting her brother for domestic violence.&nbsp;
I found the sister-in-law to be incredibly courageous in taking that stand. It was also the first time I heard English being spoken among family members within a home, which surprised me. But this family was considered intelligent simply because its members could speak English. Even though I was only 13 at the time, I couldn’t help but question how someone who believed that domestic violence should be hushed up could be considered smart.&nbsp;
When I came to Kathmandu for my Bachelor’s I encountered a few individuals who enjoyed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/leonardo-and-drew">discussing English films</a>, books, and music, and felt out of place and had little to contribute to the conversations.&nbsp;
At times, I would pretend to engage, while other times I would make excuses to leave early. I also attempted to learn more about the books and films being discussed, but it was exhausting. Despite my silence, I realised that they had information, but lacked deeper understanding.&nbsp;
They seemed captivated by popular music and literature, yet did not grasp the underlying messages those songs and books conveyed. Throughout my nearly year-long <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/from-humiliation-to-humility">work experience at a school library</a>, I remembered there was only one parent who visited. Not a single parent inquired about the types of books their children were reading or what genres excited their interest.&nbsp;
Their primary concern revolved around their child’s English proficiency. Many expressed frustration over their children’s struggle with the language, feeling embarrassed when their children could not communicate effectively in front of relatives and friends.&nbsp;
I recall Wangdi Sir saying that a school is not a language institute. A child may struggle with English, but they may excel in other subjects like science and math. Unfortunately, he struggled to persuade parents who had invested thousands in the hope that their children achieved fluency that it was not that important.&nbsp;
I encountered similar attitudes among parents across the country over the years. Many had moved from rural areas to cities, working tirelessly abroad to afford to send their children to English medium schools. There was also a noticeable bias, as families often prioritised sending sons to these more expensive schools and not their girls.
No wonder, society considers those who can speak English as intelligent, smart, or even a genius. To be sure, mastery of the English language can unlock a wealth of knowledge and provide opportunities for employment worldwide.&nbsp;
However, many do not understand that simply speaking English is not equal to intelligence, if one lacks access to enriching content in literature, art, music, or film. Ultimately, it is an individual’s upbringing, socialisation, choices, and the guidance they receive that plays a crucial role in knowledge and wisdom through English.&nbsp;
The English language is often misinterpreted as a sign of knowledge, not just in Nepal but in other developing countries where education is sometimes prioritised for language skills over true learning.
Ramesh Kumar, an economic journalist with Himalkhabar.com, recently shared on X that Nepali press releases from the World Bank and UN agencies in Kathmandu read like they were Google translated. He noted that hiring communications officers should not solely depend on their proficiency in English, they should also be skilled in the local language.&nbsp;
Relying on Google Translate or AI without understanding the context can lead to lots of embarrassing misunderstandings. Ultimately, all languages serve as tools for expression, but the messages conveyed can vary greatly.
My 5-year-old niece was already speaking English fluently even before she started pre-school. She lives in the village with my parents, where English is rarely spoken unless absolutely necessary. Yet, she picked up the language as if she had grown up in an English-speaking environment.&nbsp;
How did this happen? The secret was her love for cartoons, which she only watches in English. She has been learning both Nepali and English simultaneously, much like I did with Nepali and Maithili. I often wonder how her understanding of being a person, a woman, and a citizen will develop.&nbsp;
Language alone will not shape those identities. I hope we, as Nepalis, can grasp this concept. I also wish that our education system would instill in our children the values of humanity, equality, diversity, and not consider someone ‘civilised’ just because they can rattle off some English.
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal.

English is not the be-all and end-all

After I joined the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16458">United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN</a>) in June 2007 as the Language and Admin Assistant, I was assigned to the Arms Monitor section in Nepalganj. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14221">UNMIN</a> was established by the UN Security Council after the end of the Maoist conflict to monitor and implement the Comprehensive Peace Accord of 2006. Aside from other peacekeeping work, UNMIN maintained and administered <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17163">demobilised Maoist guerrillas</a> in seven main and 21 satellite <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17020">camps across Nepal</a>.
My main role in Nepalganj was to assist the international Sector Commander during meetings with various officials in the Mid-western region, including CDOs of various districts, politicians, security personnel from the police and army.
The first meeting of the Jordanian Sector Commander was at the Nepal Army barrack in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bardia-s-birds">Bardia</a>. Our group consisted of 9 people from the Arms Monitor section from various countries. The Jordanian’s English was easy to understand but the accents of others was harder to comprehend.
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation"> Lost in translation</a>, Alisha Sijapati
We received a warm welcome from the Nepal Army, and the Battalion Commander explained the situation in the area, and gave us a tour of the base. I was nervous, but thought I had handled the interpretation well enough. Following the meeting, the soldiers served us breakfast.
Inside the personal dining room of the Battalion Commander, I noticed sandwiches, sliced mangoes, Coke, toast, jam, and butter laid out on the table. As we were getting ready to begin, a soldier approached the Commander and whispered something in his ear. The Commander then looked at me and asked, “लोकल कुखुराको मासु र चिउरा खान्छन् कि सोध्नु त?”
I turned to the Jordanian Sector Commander and was relaying the question but got stuck, “Would you like to eat local chicken with...”
Looking back at the Commander I asked: “चिउरालाई के भन्छन् अङ्ग्रेजीमा?” He found it hilarious that I did not know what चिउरा was is in English, and said, “Bitten Rice, हैन त?” He responded as if I had confirmed his unofficial translation. I then finished my sentence to the Sector Commander, asking whether he would like local chicken with “bitten” rice.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/mai-commin-sir-qfdjg2uw">"Mai commin, Sir?"</a>, Anbika Giri
Being an interpreter was fun because of gaffes like that that are funny in hindsight. The international staff of the Arms Monitor section were friendly, and were understanding of my difficult sometimes interpreting their English accents. They spoke in brief, simple sentences to make it easy for me.
After the ‘bitten rice’ episode, one day our team was being led by a Swedish military officer for a meeting with the Senior Superintendent of the Nepal Police. We arrived at his station, but he was not there because his force had been busy evicting members of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16873">Maoist Young Communist League (YCL)</a> from a house where they were occupying.
Luckily, both sides resolved the situation through dialogue, and the tension subsided. After meeting the YCL leader, we wanted to get the Police’s side of the story. When the SSP finally arrived, he looked preoccupied and we began promptly once he took his seat.
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19640">"If I were to tell you everything I know about Prachanda ..."</a>
As I was translating his lengthy introduction of himself into a more concise version, I mistakenly referred to him as a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) rather than an SSP, which seemed to upset him. He asked me to repeat his full introduction correctly, including details about his long and illustrious career.
I quickly apologised and translated his introduction accurately. The Swedish army officer was seated across from him, jotting down notes. The SSP could read his English notes, and instructed me to tell the Swede to write down everything. (“मेरो पुरा परिचय लेख्न भन”)
I told the SSP politely that I was just the interpreter and could not tell the UNMIN officer what to write and not to write in his notebook. The short meeting ended, and the SSP insisted again that I tell the Swedish army officer to add a few more sentences of his introduction to his notes, and not just write ‘SSP’. (“एक दुई वाक्य थप्न भन्नु । ठ्यास्स एसएसपी मात्र त के लेखेको ।”
I held back my laughter because there was no way I could translate “ठ्यास्स” into English. There just is not an equivalent word, and it would need a whole sentence to get the thought across: “Perfunctorily just jot down the bare minimum and get it over with”, or words to that effect.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/from-humiliation-to-humility">From humiliation to humility</a>, Anbika Giri
Having a limited English vocabulary, making tons of grammatical errors, and feeling nervous were even more challenging when meeting politicians. It was hard to figure out where politicians put full stops and commas in their sonorous speeches.
Once in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/northwestern-tip-of-nepal-Humla,3430#google_vignette">Simikot of Humla district</a>, I was interpreting speeches at a gathering of over 100 members from various political parties. Everyone spoke passionately as if it was their last chance to be heard. I struggled to understand the local dialect – this was northwestern Nepal, and I am from the southeast.
The subject of the speeches was the rehabilitation of those <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war">forced to flee during the Maoist insurgency</a>. A young man, who seemed agitated, was yelling loudly. I stepped in to translate that his family had been forced from home due to the conflict when he was just 16. He was sent to Kathmandu for further education while his parents stayed in a rented house in Nepalganj.
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13684">Youthful rivalry</a>, JOHN NARAYAN PARAJULI
All this was fairly easy to translate, but then he began angrily criticising a leader of the Maoist Party, using rude language. How could I translate such words into English? Besides, I did not even know the English equivalent of those local swearwords.
“मेरो कुरा अङ्ग्रेजीमा भन्दिनु” thundered the man in a menacing voice, asking me not to leave anything out. The Sector Commander asked what the man was going on about, and I told him I did not understand and apologised, while the man kept interrupting and accused me of not translating his tirade, and being biased.
I finally told the man: “तपाईंको गाली मलाई अङ्ग्रेजीमा भन्न आएन। गाली ट्रान्सलेट गर्न आको हो म?” (I cannot translate your curses. Am I here to translate your profanity?)He shouted back (expletives beeped out): “किन जागिर खाको त ? बाउको सोर्स होला... beep... beep... beep..” (Then why were you hired? Your Dad must know someone…)
I moved on to next person in the audience and completely ignored him. However, today as I think back at that day in Humla his angry words still ring in my ears. I wish now I could have told him that I got the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17292">UNMIN</a> interpreter job because a friend had heard about the opening and I filled out the UN’s complicated P11 application form. My Dad had no idea what I was getting into.
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. Read earlier instalments of Angrezi, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/from-humiliation-to-humility">here</a>.

Me, the Interpreter

“Did you know this interview was supposed to be in English?” he asked with a smile. I reciprocated, although it was clear that his smile conveyed a sense of pity towards me. My smile, on the other hand, was more an expression of private shame.
I was being interviewed for the position of librarian at a residential English-medium school by the Managing Director. His personality was domineering: tall, well-built, and a pony tail.&nbsp;
I knew some of the questions he asked would be in English, but did not realise that I had to respond entirely in English too. I had some basic English language communication skills, but I was not fluent at the time.&nbsp;
“How are you planning to get by here? You clearly cannot speak the language, and our working language is English,” he said looking me directly in the eye. This interview was starting to scare me.
“म कथा भन्न सक्छु,” I blurted out in Nepali, trying to salvage my job prospect by highlighting my story-telling skills.“Okay. एउटा कथा सुनाउ,” he replied, as if to put me at ease. I immediately launched into a children’s story that had recently been published in Kopila, Kantipur’s school supplement.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/journalism-is-all-about-storytelling-and-money">Journalism is all about storytelling (and money)</a>
The story was about a letter that transformed the life of a girl with low self-esteem. She had felt unappreciated by everyone until the letter arrived from a dentist whom she had earlier helped by giving directions. The letter thanked her for being so helpful, and expressed how proud her mother must be for having such a smart daughter.&nbsp;
Despite my lack of English, the Managing Director must have found the story and my narration compelling. I got the job, but on probation and with condition attached: “You’re on your own. If you can’t connect with the students within a month, you’ll be let go.”&nbsp;
I started my job at the school library in 2006 just as the students were getting ready for their three-week summer break. Excitement and English chatter filled the air, but I could not quite follow what they were saying. They were too preoccupied with their vacation to notice me.&nbsp;
The library itself was a disaster zone. Books were scattered everywhere. And even though I had no prior knowledge of library management, I tried to bring some order into the chaos.&nbsp;
I was a voracious reader, but most of the books were in English and I felt overwhelmed. I dedicated long hours at the library, sometimes working late into the night. My goal was to familiarise myself with every single book in the stacks before the school year began, hoping to impress the students.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/read-and-let-read">Read and let read</a>, Anil Chitrakar
The holidays were coming to an end, and I felt the pressure mounting. Searching for a solution to ensure a smooth start, I came up with what I figured was a brilliant plan to convene a meeting with class captains before opening the library for all students. My reasoning was that if they were on board with enforcing library rules, the rest of the students would follow.
I was working late, and the Managing Director looked in, noticing the lights were still on. He seemed pleased to find the library in perfect condition, the books all organised.&nbsp;
“Don’t work late, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-brings-back-the-snow-leopard">leopard</a> may show up,” he said.&nbsp;
“Really? A लियोपार्ड?” I gasped, pronouncing it ‘Leo-Pard’. “Yes, तर लियोपार्ड हैन लेपर्ड चाहिँ आउँछ and they will chew you up,” he said, chuckling, and pronouncing the word leopard properly.Embarrassed, I corrected myself, silently repeating the correct pronunciation of लेपर्ड. I only understood later that he was jokingly referring to children chewing me out, not an actual leopard. This humiliation destroyed my confidence, and I lost the confidence to engage in conversation, even in Nepali.
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/mai-commin-sir-qfdjg2uw"> "Mai commin, Sir?"</a>, Anbika Giri
The students returned and were informed about their meeting with the new Library Miss. There were two captains each from Class 4-10, and one school captain, totaling 13. I thought I was fully prepared, and it all began well.&nbsp;
But the assertiveness of the students and their fluency in English caught me completely off guard, and I fumbled for English words as my vocabulary vanished. Till this day, I feel the sweat on my forehead.
At first the class captains were taken aback, some attempted to correct my pronunciation, and then their giggling erupted into uncontrollable laughter. I could not bear the failure, and switched to Nepali but my confidence was shattered. I was not getting through at all. They walked away, making fun of my English pronunciation in a loud voice just to make sure I heard them.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/hi-hee-and-haha-hihi">Hi-Hee and Haha-Hihi</a>, Anbika Giri
Deflated, I also felt embarrassed in front of the teachers, fearing that the students may have mocked me. They insisted I speak to them in English. I avoided making eye contact and interacting with the students, I hardly spoke to the teachers, and if I did it was in Nepali.
After two months, Wangdi Sir noticed my silence. He was an English teacher from Kalimpong and was rigorous yet popular among students. He stood out among his colleagues as one of the few who preferred to spend time in the library, engrossed in reading.
One day, he asked me why I was so quiet. I shared my story, unburdening myself. He chuckled initially, but offered practical tutorials about<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepali-students-underperform"> handling students </a>in English with sentences like “Why don’t you try the fiction section?” or “May I help you find your book?”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-about-teaching">Learning about teaching</a>, Prakriti Kandel
Before Wangdi Sir’s help, whenever a student requested a book I would simply get it and hand it over to them without uttering a single word. Wangdi Sir taught me that recognising weakness was the first step in overcoming it. Steadily, my confidence level improved, and I started to build rapport with students. Whenever I mispronounced something, I would politely ask them to correct me.
My eight-month tenure transitioned from a state of humiliation to a one of humility. This was when my interest in children’s literature blossomed, and the library gave me a deeper understanding of the students’ perspectives and interests.&nbsp;
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. Find her previous columns <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi">here</a>.

From humiliation to humility

Back in July 2007, while living in Kathmandu I had most of my evening meals at Angan’s Tripureswar outlet, since at the time I had no clue how to cook a proper meal.
The most I could manage was to make tea, haluwa, and chauchau, which I did not care much for during my pregnancy. But since I had a huge appetite, every evening I would be at my table at Angan for a South Indian thali and sweets, and even pack some dhokla for later at night.&nbsp;
On my first visit to Angan, I sat down and patiently waited for someone to take my order. Five minutes later, I was still waiting. I called a waiter over, and said, “Menu दिनु न.”
“यहाँ त प्रीपेड सेल्फ-सर्भिस हो।” he replied in an offhand manner, telling me to order at the counter, pay and get a receipt.&nbsp;
Thanks to Nepal Telecom, I understood what a ‘pre-paid’ service was. But I had no concept of a ‘self-service’ restaurant with waiters. Looking around, I noticed everyone was getting their own food and refilling water glasses themselves.&nbsp;
I grasped the concept of self- service, but I was not all that thrilled about it. If I went to a restaurant, I preferred to be served at the table no matter where I was. It was probably the only time I was not excited to learn something new in English, and I regretted choosing that outlet. But it was already 7PM and I was starving, and did not have the energy to search for another place to eat since I was new to the area then.
I lazily made my way to the counter, I placed my order, paid, and returned to my seat. I had sworn to myself that I would not set foot in this place again, but for today, I let it slide. My hunger was unbearable, causing me to constantly glance towards the counter, anxiously checking my receipt number.&nbsp;
To distract myself, I started playing snake games on my tiny Nokia 1100 phone. I was completely engrossed in the game, oblivious to the fact that someone had already placed a glass of water on my table. When another customer’s number was called, I finally looked up and noticed the water before me.&nbsp;
To my pleasant surprise, a gentleman approached my table with a tray of food. A wave of happiness washed over me. “If you need more water or anything else, feel free to order from here,” the man kindly informed me.
I was truly impressed by how well they treated me that day. They were always checking in to see if I required anything, if the food was too spicy, or if I needed a refill of water. I completely forgot about the negative impression I had of the place just 20 minutes earlier.
That July, 17 years ago, I practically dined at Angan every evening. I would take a seat and a waiter would promptly come to take my order. They always offered me water as soon as I sat down, and never failed to bring an extra sweet treat. It felt like I was eating in the comfort of my own home. One rainy day, they even gave me an umbrella to go home.
In early August, my landlady offered to cook for me as well. I gladly accepted and paid her for meals four times on the weekends and twice during the weekdays. Due to the rainy season, she was concerned about my safety and did not want me slipping and getting hurt. I appreciated her gesture and stopped going to Angan. I am not sure who owned Angan or managed the Tripureswar outlet in 2007, but I am still thankful to them to introduce a newcomer to Kathmandu about the concept of ‘self-service’.&nbsp;
It may be late, considering my daughter is now nearly 17 years old, but I still have a soft spot for the outlet and want to give gratitude where it is due. Oh, and ‘due’ is a word the versatility of which I discovered at about the same time.
I was sad and frustrated. More sad than frustrated, more nervous than sad. And scared. It had been 42 weeks, and there was still no sign of labour pain. The doctor had given the all-clear just two days earlier, but the absence of any sign of labour was puzzling.&nbsp;
I was at a computer shop in Jhamsikhel to fix my laptop. The technician was trying to figure out what the problem was. I was distracted, and could not relax. Even though it was September, I was sweating.
Looking at me, a friendly middle-aged foreign-looking man at the shop asked in English, “May I ask when you’re due?”&nbsp;
I was as big as an elephant, and he was not much smaller. I noticed he had squeezed himself into the corner of the sofa to make room for me. His kindness touched me, but I did not understand his question especially the word ‘due’. I smiled faintly, indicating I was not interested in responding.
Not only was he kind, but intelligent too. He figured out this was a language issue, and cleverly combined sign language with words, pointing towards my belly, asking, “When is the baby coming out?”
“I don’t know,” I said in fright.&nbsp;
I noticed his eyes widen behind his glasses, but before he could interrogate me further, the &nbsp;technician told me to come back later in the day for my laptop. I hurriedly exited the store.
Once outside, I headed to a cyber cafe and googled the word ‘due’. I was surprised to see that a simple three letter English word had so many meanings:
1. Adjective: Expected at or planned for at a certain time. “The baby’s due in August”
2. Of the proper quality or extent.
“driving without due care and attention”
3. Noun: one’s right,what is owed to one. “He thought it was his due.”
4. An obligatory payment, a fee.
“He had paid trade union dues for years.”
5. Adverb (with reference to a point of the compass) exactly; directly.
“We’ll head due south again on the same road.”
Looking back now, I chuckle at my attempts to learn English in such baffling situations in Nepal. More in the next episode.&nbsp;
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. Read earlier instalments of Angrezi, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi">here</a>.

Giving credit where it is due

Autobooks were popular at our school. They were diaries where friends could jot down something, creating a lifelong memory. It was customary for friends to stick photos in each other’s photobooks, so we could look at their faces whenever we missed them.&nbsp;
Back in the 2000s, we students knew that we would eventually have to part ways. Some of us, mostly girls, would get married, others would leave the village to pursue higher education, and some would start working.
We were convinced that after completing our SLC, it would be nearly impossible to reunite with school friends. This was before Facebook.
Filled with overwhelming emotions, we yearned for a tangible keepsake of our time together. Filling an autobook and having one filled was truly special. We poured our hearts out, expressing how our school life was coming to an end and how the new world awaiting us would never be the same.&nbsp;
We wished our friends the very best in their future endeavours and humbly asked for forgiveness if we had ever hurt them. We even included some heartfelt shayari verses, along with our favourite food, name, place, actor, actress, movie, dress, and even surnames.
In the initial trimester of Class 10 we were engrossed in writing for friends and requesting them to return to write in our autobooks. The task of choosing the most captivating photo for the autobook posed quite a challenge. After all, it was supposed to last a lifetime.
My elder sister only made her autobook when she was in her +2 when I was in Class 7. Since she had attended an English medium school until Grade 6, her English was good. Additionally, living in Biratnagar, the biggest city I knew back then, she naturally wrote the autobook in English.&nbsp;
Everything she wrote was original, she knew the meaning of every word. Following her example, my other sisters also wrote the autobook in English. Both had copied our elder sister. When my turn came, I naturally followed suit.&nbsp;
We not only copied the format but also the best actor, actress, movie, and everything else. We used to believe that whatever our elder sister liked must be likeable and unique.
Her favourite actor was <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000138/">Leonardo DiCaprio</a>, the actress was <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000106/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1">Drew Barrymore</a>, and the movie was Titanic. They became our favourites too, although we had no idea who the two were or what <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120338/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_8_nm_0_q_titanic">Titanic</a> was all about. But we trusted her taste. If she admired them, they must be truly remarkable.&nbsp;
It seemed that my friends shared the same sentiment, as they too copied Leo and Drew as their favourites actor and actress. Although we had different preferences when it came to Nepali and Indian actors, Leo and Drew were the common Hollwood choices.
I first learned about Titanic during my college years and saw the movie in 2008. Before that, I had already watched another film starring DiCaprio, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0450259/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Blood Diamond</a>, in 2007. While I enjoyed both movies, my favourite actor at the time was <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000158/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1">Tom Hanks</a>. I discovered Tom before Leo, but somehow I completely forgot about Drew.
I have a problem with English films. I can easily remember the plot, but I cannot put a name to the actors. The same goes for songs - I could recognise the tune, but could not remember the singer’s &nbsp;name. I am better now, but still struggle to remember their names.&nbsp;
Five years ago, I googled Drew Barrymore, and can you believe it: I had actually watched two of her movies multiple times on DVD, ’<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0343660/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">50 First Dates</a>’ and ‘<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0160127/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_8_nm_0_q_Charlie%27s%2520Angels">Charlie's Angels</a>’. I had even seen her in ‘Music and Lyrics’, but I had no idea that she was the Drew Barrymore who was my sister’s favourite and through her mine, and the favourite of the entire class. I wonder if Leo and Drew are still favourites of any of my friends or even my sisters?&nbsp;
While moving flats in Kathmandu multiple times, I misplaced my autobook. It would be fascinating to revisit our autobooks, and to see how our preferences have evolved over time. Some were altered as we discovered better options, while others were modified as our understanding improved.
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. See her previous columns <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/hi-hee-and-haha-hihi">here</a>.

Leonardo and Drew

Architecture can be a powerful agent of change, shaping not just spaces but the way people live, connect, and experience the world.&nbsp; For Nepal, which is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">gifted by nature</a> and rich in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/ambassador-fund-cultural-preservation-nepal,2092">cultural heritage</a>, &nbsp;reviving rural architecture with modern amenities could hold the key to more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-sustainable-tourism-means-in-practice">sustainable tourism </a>that benefits local people more. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/bayalpata-hospital-in-nepal-wins-global-design-award">Design and architecture</a> are amazing tools to create a unique experience for visitors,” says Spanish architect Tomeu Esteva of Esteva i Esteva Architecture Studio. “Difficult destinations have beautiful hotels with design and comfort.” Esteva was in Kathmandu with his colleagues at an event organised by the Spanish Honorary Consulate at Dwarika’s Hotel last week to showcase buildings which Nepali architects can adapt with local material and design inputs.&nbsp; Rural architecture holds a unique significance: it is more than a shelter and must reflect <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/inking-an-idenity">local identity, culture</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-humla-from-heritage-loss">heritage</a>. An area’s natural and cultural harmony can be upset by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-protected-areas-from-infrastructure?fbclid=IwAR1wK0MDFlFST_2EYb3f54LS4-fPt6rYfLG1DJ1JaQsU3w8-ezyXIxGOqzk">poorly planned development</a>, speakers at the event said, but the environment can be improved and revitalised by well-integrated structures.&nbsp; Another Spanish architect, Belen Moneo, has designed hotels at elevations of 3,700m in her home country Spain that supply natural spring water spas. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/lost-in-reconstruction">Creativity in construction</a> must be encouraged. Rural architecture always shows possibilities of what we can do better,” Moneo explains, adding that designs must enhance <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-healing-power-of-nature">the beauty of nature</a> and give a natural feel at a time when steel, glass and cement dominate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake">urban design</a>.&nbsp; This is why the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/weaving-nature-into-craft">use of natural products</a> such as bamboo, local timber, straw and rammed earth are in demand from customers who want a fresh eco-friendly look encouraged in construction of rural architectural structures. The demand for boutique hotels has increased world over, with &nbsp;more and more tourists favouring aesthetics, experience and comfort over price. While creativity is an important part of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/architecture-for-mountains">construction and architecture</a>, incentives to build and use <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Building,370">rural construction materials</a> still remain minimal, and Moneo emphasises the significance of design and execution.&nbsp; Esteva helped design the Vana Retreat in Dehradun that kept the natural environment in focus, with the structure giving an elaborate aesthetic experience to visitors. Another example is Hotel Las Mercedes in the Dominican Republic which was designed and constructed by Moneo and the company she co-founded Moneo Brock, respecting and revaluing the traditional architecture of the area. Hotels providing such experience could attract tourists and revenue. The Spanish ambassador to Nepal Juan Antonio March Pujol said, “The role of architecture and architects in developing tourism is crucial, not only in urban areas but rural settings as well.”&nbsp; The concept of rural boutique hotels gained traction in Spain during the 1990s, particularly in regions like Majorca with economic and environmental sustainability as the main focus. In Nepal <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/guiding-nepal-s-tourism-industry">the tourism industry</a> directly employs about 1 million people, and makes up about 8% of the country’s GDP. In Nepal, the stone homes of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviving-himalayan-vulture-and-culture">Mustang and Manang</a>, bamboo and mud structures of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">the Tarai</a>, and the Kathmandu Valley’s terra cotta tile skylines, graceful temples, and tranquil bahal courtyards are all examples of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs">Nepal’s traditional architecture</a>.&nbsp; Nepali architect Sarosh Pradhan has been working for the past eight years on the Brakka Village project in Manang Valley north of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna">the Annapurnas</a>. Other examples of this kind of rural architecture for high-end tourism are the Shinta Mani Hotel in Mustang and Khumbu Lodge below <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a>. Says Pradhan, “There are places in Nepal that radiate purity and embrace simplicity. Creating projects in such settings require deep reflection and thoughtful planning.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421030444_a07a23f6b60fa89c0f35b9dc1aaf19937da4881e6bfb2e1858f3c27dff91729f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250421030444_a07a23f6b60fa89c0f35b9dc1aaf19937da4881e6bfb2e1858f3c27dff91729f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="2184" loading="lazy" alt="A new architecture for Nepal's tourism"> </figure>  Rural architecture is not easy, and sometimes more expensive. Inflation, energy efficiency, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-who-stay">the climate crisis</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">increased costs of living</a> pose obstacles to sustainable rural architecture. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/forgotten-international-starchitects-in-nepal">Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal</a>, Anne Feenstra and Varun S Bapu Esteva says faith and trust between client and architect is necessary for any project to be successful. He adds that architects must practice being humble, the process of designing always involves learning and not imposing their ideas on clients. Nepal is uniquely positioned for the growth of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hiking-up-the-benefits-of-tourism">rural tourism</a> because of its stunning countryside as well as its internationally renowned traditions in holistic wellness. Creating infrastructure that is small, thoughtfully planned and that respects both tradition and contemporary hospitality standards is crucial. “Projects in Nepal can be made cost effective by using materials from houses that have been brought down,” says Esteva. “Pilot projects involving <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/local-government-by-the-people-for-the-people-of-the-people">local people </a>and simple designing also helps the process.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/vacant-homes-become-homestays-in-nepal">The growth of homestays in Nepal</a> is a step in the right direction, but they are still a bit too rustic for the international traveller who also wants comfort and is willing to pay extra for it. Upgrading the facilities in homestays and ensuring that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-archive-of-nepali-heritage">architectural heritage</a> of the locality is preserved using locally sourced building material could allow owners to charge more. Says Sangita Shrestha of Dwarika’s Hotel, “Our effort is to build upon rural architecture by empowering local communities and using what is available locally. We can fine tune and encourage indigenous design and training.” The vision goes beyond just boosting the economy, it is about building a future where tourism helps villages grow in a healthy and lasting way. Instead of using up resources, it gives back to the land and the people. It supports local communities by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/staying-in-nepal-to-create-jobs"> creating jobs</a>, improving infrastructure, and protecting natural beauty. When done right, tourism can be a tool for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/progress-and-or-preservation">preserving culture and nature</a>, not harming them. Architects must therefore see their work as more than just designing buildings, they also need to care deeply about people and places, especially in rural areas that can benefit the most.&nbsp; With global interest in sustainable and off-the-beaten-path travel increasing, Nepal stands at the cusp of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/missing-out-on-nepal-s-tourism-potential">tourism transformation</a> that values community-driven, eco-conscious hospitality. A mix of modern ideas and traditional knowledge could transform rural tourism in Nepal. Says Shrestha, “Young architects should spend time with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local and indigenous communities</a>, listen to their stories, and learn from their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/life-and-livelihood-in-remote-nepal">ways of living</a>. These communities have deep knowledge about the land, materials, and climate. If this wisdom is used in new designs, it can help create tourism spaces that truly benefit everyone.” &nbsp;

A new architecture for Nepal's tourism

Extract from an addendum to Nepal's Two Wars, Chapter 2 in the updated edition of Essays on Nepal: Past and Present by Sam Cowan, a retired British Army general with a long association with the Gurkhas. The book was first published in 2018, and republished earlier this month by FinePrint exclusively on Amazon. The addendum details a one-to-one conversation the author had in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8884">Royal Palace </a>with the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">King Gyanendra</a> in November 2002 just after he had taken his initial steps on the road that ultimately led to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14681">the abolition of the monarchy</a> in Nepal in 2008. In the early evening of September 16, 2002, in my role as Colonel Commandant of the Brigade of Gurkhas, I had my second and last official audience with King Gyanendra to give him an update on the Brigade’s activities over the previous 12 months. I had some 6 or 7 such audiences with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra</a>.&nbsp; These were official affairs with the British ambassador of the day present, along with key <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12233">palace officials</a> and a representative from Nepal's Foreign Ministry. The two monarchs were very different in character and temperament, but both treated me with the utmost civility and made the audiences as relaxed and easy for me as possible.&nbsp; It is, however, worth recording that when the official business had been covered, King Birendra, with a twinkle in his eye, often ended by asking, “Now General, what’s the gossip in London?” The second audience with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8026">King Gyanendra </a>was my last official act in uniform. We came back to Kathmandu in the first week of November (after treks) to stay for a few nights with our Defence Attaché before heading back to the UK. Waiting for me was a message from the Palace saying that King Gyanendra would like to meet me informally: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6933">no uniform</a> and no ambassador.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080420_f9046f9882d4481781d14f2b64f18c7fbbea62562e1d74e3465de6d01fb43750.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250421080420_f9046f9882d4481781d14f2b64f18c7fbbea62562e1d74e3465de6d01fb43750" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2406" loading="lazy" alt="Gyanendra crowned page 1"> <figcaption>Nepali Times Special Edition of 6-14 June 2001 with enthronement of Gyanendra. </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_21333d6ae21828eb47fe3f849438d215fe2804460d47bb2896ef4aee4e895ad2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250421080424_21333d6ae21828eb47fe3f849438d215fe2804460d47bb2896ef4aee4e895ad2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1857" loading="lazy" alt="Royal massacre"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 22-29 June 2001 covering the royal massacre after which Gyanendra became king. </figcaption> </figure>  Although I had no idea what the purpose of the meeting might be, events in Kathmandu since I last saw the king put me on edge. On October 4, 2002, Gyanendra had dismissed Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, allegedly for failing to hold <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-goes-on-in-nepal-s-elections">elections</a>. He had put in place a new prime minister and a cabinet personally selected by him. When I heard the news on my travels, the people I met were generally supportive of the king’s actions. There was a general view that something had to be done, the country was going nowhere, and the king deserved his chance, not least to solve<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal"> the Maoist </a>problem. Back in Kathmandu, views were not so sanguine. The chosen prime minister, Lokendra Bahadur Chand, was a relic from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">the Panchayat period</a> whose party had failed to win a single seat in the last elections held in 1999. Some of the chosen cabinet ministers had, to put it mildly, dubious reputations, and others had no record of proven competence in any field. There was a fear that the king’s real motive in dismissing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement">Deuba</a> was to start to reverse the democratic gains made since 1990. I informed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-britain-mark-centenary-of-1923-treaty">the British ambassador</a> about the invitation. He was strongly against accepting it, which was probably the clinching reason for my decision to do the polite thing and accept it. On the evening of November 7, 2002, I presented myself at the royal palace, alone and in civilian attire.&nbsp; As in the past, the Military Secretary, Major General Vivek Shah, met and escorted me into the presence of the monarch. This time, however, he was politely asked to leave the room and shut the door behind him. King Gyanendra greeted me warmly and invited me to sit down.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal"> The ghost of monarchy returns to haunt Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_e382af945d0ad2a04ae41fabe5393f793dd10f54cb1220f111c7c9e7423eb558.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250421080424_e382af945d0ad2a04ae41fabe5393f793dd10f54cb1220f111c7c9e7423eb558" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="993" loading="lazy" alt="Gyanendra coup"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 4-10 February 2005 after king Gyanendra's coup imposed media censorship. anendra became king. </figcaption> </figure>  I had wondered, and to be truthful, had worried, not just about the purpose of the meeting, but about how the conversation might start and develop. I reduced my resolve to two points: be polite but speak candidly. The latter resolve was quickly put to the test with the king’s opening words: “Sam, [in previous meetings it had been ‘General’, you walk the highways and byways of this land more than most, tell me what the common man is thinking?” &nbsp;“Your Majesty, I have no idea what they are thinking, but they are waiting.” “Waiting?” “Yes, Your Majesty, they are waiting to see whether what you did some weeks ago in appointing your own prime minister and cabinet ministers is going to make any difference to their lives or whether it is just going to be more Kathmandu hot air.” “Everything is going to be difficult and is going to take time, a lot of time.” “Your Majesty, time is the one thing you don’t have. You must act quickly and decisively to take advantage of the opportunity you have created. Everyone knows that you have appointed these new ministers. Why don’t you get them in here one by one and tell them that they have three months to deliver a programme in their area of responsibility that is going to make a difference to people’s lives? Most will fail to do so. Sack them! It will be a powerful signal of your strong intent to deliver real change.” I can express the opening of our conversation in this way because just about every word is still etched in my mind. The king’s response to my last quoted words was to challenge me to give an example of something that could be delivered quickly. I can give a verbatim record of what I said in response to this unexpected challenge: “Health posts, Your Majesty, there is no shortage of them throughout the country as building them has been one of the sources of local corruption, but very few have any medicine to issue at present or have skilled people to assess and meet medical needs. Your Majesty, children are dying for lack of a few pills. Given the right priority, over a period, say of six months, every health post could be fully stocked with medicine and manned with trained people. This is something I could help to lead for you as I know it would have strong international backing. At last, people would know that you mean business.” As I warmed to the theme, I could see no sign of the king having any enthusiasm for the idea, and I quickly disengaged as it dawned on me, as it had clearly dawned on the king, that the reason for the deficiencies in health posts was to prevent any Maoist combatant from gaining access to any <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/tech-away/nepal-s-health-tech-industry-is-here-to-stay">medical support</a>, and if this meant people suffering, so be it. The subject of the Maoist insurgency inevitably came up, and I took the opportunity to elaborate on what is written in the final four paragraphs of the article above. I advised King Gyanendra that, self-evidently, since there were three parties in the conflict—him, the Maoists, and the political parties—it was imperative that he form an alliance with one of them, preferably the political parties; otherwise, he would find himself isolated, as the other two parties would inevitably, at some stage, form their own alliance. However, it quickly became apparent that the king’s mind was on a totally different track. On the Maoists, he told me that he had channels open to them, but he was scathing about the political party leaders. He made it clear that they would be waiting for a very long time before he gave any power back to them, and that is a polite way of expressing the actual words he used, but “crawling through the door” is a phrase which has stuck in my mind.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_5403455ff6168f0d202a96cb53edea69136d74d59b989cfcc7cc4a1d57672cb5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250421080424_5403455ff6168f0d202a96cb53edea69136d74d59b989cfcc7cc4a1d57672cb5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1317" loading="lazy" alt="fall of monarchy"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 28 April-3 May 2005 with cover image by Ajay Joshi of jubilant protesters after street demonstrations sidelined king Gyanendra, paving the way for a ceasfire and restoration of democracy. </figcaption> </figure>  As the conversation developed, it became ever clearer that King Gyanendra had decided to go in alone, relying on the misleading assurances he was constantly receiving from <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14954">the army</a>, and no doubt his close advisers, that the Maoists could and would be quickly defeated militarily, and taken out of the equation. This would obviate the need for him to do any deal with the political parties.&nbsp; Thus, the way would be clear for him to establish a version of his father’s Panchayat system, under a constitution that would be granted to the people by him, their sovereign, as his father and brother had done in 1962 and 1990. As in those constitutions, ultimate power would have remained in the sovereign’s hands. This proposed direction of travel was very clear from what the king said to me. In sum, King Gyanendra was motivated by a desire to emulate his immediate predecessors by granting his people a constitution that would restore his father’s Panchayat system in a modern form and give him a central role in decision-making. What was particularly dispiriting was that beyond this single objective he had no plan worthy of the name, nor demonstrably did he have the people with the skills to implement an appropriate plan even if one had existed. Crucially and depressingly, there was little or no indication from the king that he realised that such a course of action could put Nepal’s monarchy into serious jeopardy, as indeed proved to be the case. <h2>King Twice</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250420110436_315d519fe3d68d2406ebe1480fed54720fbf21b8907a4da5cde751fdc623d445.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250420110436_315d519fe3d68d2406ebe1480fed54720fbf21b8907a4da5cde751fdc623d445" data-rendition-name="original" width="1302" height="632" loading="lazy" alt="“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”"> </figure>  <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah has been king twice</a>. In 1950 he was enthroned briefly as a child king (left, above) by the Rana Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher when his grandfather, King Tribhuvan, fled to exile in India. In 2001 he was crowned king again after the massacre in the royal palace in which his brother King Birendra and nine other members of his family were killed by Crown Prince Dipendra.&nbsp; During his second reign, Gyanendra gradually asserted power by sacking Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba in 2002, and then taking full control after the 1 February 2005 coup. He was sidelined after the ceasefire in April 2006, and became a commoner after the Constituent Assembly finally <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Ftnp-abolishing,624">abolished the monarchy in 2008</a>. In the past year, Gyanendra has tried to exploit public dissatisfaction with the political parties to restore the monarchy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080432_26ef4a4b0e3cee9fdc6794446702efe16550d293904b4f6dd46fe35d4d10c788.jpg" data-media-id="editor_22" data-image-id="20250421080432_26ef4a4b0e3cee9fdc6794446702efe16550d293904b4f6dd46fe35d4d10c788" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Essays on Nepal by Sam Cowen"> </figure>

“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”

“It's Kathmandu.” Just as the family was sitting down for one of its extended lunches, that jubilant cry was from François Driard’s grandfather announcing the next posting for his diplomat parents.&nbsp; Driard (pictured) was 18 in the summer of 1996,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/chasing-a-nomad"> a bit of a hippie</a> already, and his life was about to change forever with the magical word “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu">Kathmandu</a>”. “I was awed with that information from my grandfather, nothing else mattered … In France <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tales-of-courage-and-suffering-cx95f89e">in the 1990s</a>, Kathmandu had a mythical aura,” Driard recalls. He came to Kathmandu for Christmas that year to visit his stepfather, the French Ambassador Michel Lummaux. It was to be the first of many visits during school holidays, before he decided to permanently settle down in Nepal. “Kathmandu, and Nepal, were very different then, it was magical, I liked the nature, the people, civilisation, temples, trees,” says Driard, who explored the country sitting on the top of buses. “Visitors talk about the crazy <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">urbanisation</a>, traffic jams today, and all that is true. But Kathmandu has not <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/loss-of-soul-and-soil">lost its soul</a>.” After his stepfather’s tenure in Nepal ended, Driard worked as a business reporter for international publications but decided he did not want to be anyone’s employee anymore. In 2007 he landed in Kathmandu with €20,000 in savings to invest.&nbsp; He knew a few crucial things about himself: he liked food and nature, which is very much tied up with his upbringing--full of lively conversations during lunch and dinner at the family table between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-yak-cheese-is-on-world-map">abundant cheese, wine and cigars</a>. So he decided it would be cheese, and registered Himalayan French Cheese and went to the French Alps for a month to learn how to make Tomme de Savoie. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-story-of-langtang-cheese">Cheese making is such an ancient craft </a>and so I thought I won’t need much money or studying which I hated and indeed, if you have a tamako bhado and fire you are set,” explains Driard. But Nepal’s temperature and humidity were not ideal, even at higher altitudes. The first customers for his cheese were the Hyatt Regency and Nina and Hager. But he needed to create a market for cheese in a country which only knew hard churpi in the north and soft paneer in the south. He started selling his cheeses at the Summit Hotel weekend market, expanding to his own 1905 Farmer’s Market which later moved to Le Sherpa in Maharajganj, where it is now, and also a market at Labim Mall in Pulchok. He had cow dairies in Nuwakot and Dhulikhel, and finally a yak cheese unit at 3,379m in Ramechhap. It was the yak blue cheese from here that went on to win a Gold Medal in France, putting Nepal’s French cheese on the world map. “People come and try our cheese at the market, they ask questions. There is a lot of education to be done about cheese,” adds Driard, who also has three cheese shops in the Valley. Driard now makes 25 types of cheese. The products are being noticed and every year he has French students coming to Nepal to learn the art of yak cheese making. “In France, one family or company makes one kind of cheese for generations. In that I’m very unique as a cheese artisan,” he says. “The students come in to learn but I tell them to also teach us something too, add another cheese to my collection.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/langtang-after-10-years">Langtang after 10 years</a>, Sonia Awale Being a foodie, Driard is now also dabbling in meat with his own charcuterie at Meatini with bacon, ham, sausage and pâtés. All of this is now served at his Emilio’s Pizza, a leafy hideaway in Lazimpat. His South Side in Moksh is probably the smallest wine bar in the world. “I call the process sublime,” says Driard of his ventures, which have grown organically. “You need the same temperature and humidity of 12°C and 80% for cheese, meat and wine.” Emilio’s speciality is the eight-cheese pizza (which has eight types of cheeses), and a pizza with bhutan topping (not the country but fried intestines and organs Nepali-style). He has opened a small branch at Courtyard in Pokhara.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="8 cheese pizza"> <figcaption>Eight-cheese pizza</figcaption> </figure>  With two artisanal cheese units, two farmers’ markets, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-meat-of-the-story">meat processing unit</a>, a bakery, and wine bar he now envisions a vineyard so he can add Nepali wine to his repertoire. Another future plan is to start up an agri-tourism business where customers can drink, eat and work in peace. In the past 20 years in Nepal, Driard has not always succeeded in his ventures but this hasn’t curbed his enthusiasm. He is learning as he goes, and like an old wine, Nepal is growing on him. Its slowness suits his French art de vivre with eating slowly outdoors, having conversation, importing less.&nbsp; “I have proven that with even a little money you can do a lot of things in Nepal,” adds Driard. “In the West, they easily invest half a million euros on a cheese factory, I invested 10 times less.”&nbsp;

Fromage, vin et charcuterie Népalais

Bhuthan भुठान starts with Bishnu Bahadur KC played by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/dhuwa-smoke-telefilm,2671">Hari Bansha Acharya</a> on a call, requesting to speak to the visa officer. By this point, he had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-should-now-allow-visa-on-arrival">applied for a visa </a>to Bhutan 10 times, but was denied each time. KC was a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-women-excel-in-sports-in-2024-z9ramyct">national football player </a>in Bhutan in 1988 before he and other Nepali-speaking Lhotsampa people were forced out of the country in the 1990s as part of the Druk regime’s ‘One Nation One People’ campaign. Over 100,000 Bhutanese Nepalis were forced out, driven across India and dumped in Nepal where they lived in seven<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp"> refugee camps</a> supervised by the United Nations and other charities until they were resettled in the United States, Australia, New Zealand and some European countries starting in 2007. In the fictional movie with the satirical English title The World’s Happiest Man, KC has resettled in the state of Ohio in the US but wishes to visit his home country once before he dies. Between flashbacks, we learn KC has died without having fulfilled his wish. &nbsp; The drama then focuses on KC’s two families from two marriages as they debate whether to cremate him as per <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/muslim-hindu,2996">Hindu rites </a>or give him a Christian burial. A mediator played by Hollywood actor Bruce Dern urges them to take a firm decision before it is too long.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250430140420_b398a08091b866da2b0b8f6c1e6e26781609749aba896bfd2c68a10a519295c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250430140420_b398a08091b866da2b0b8f6c1e6e26781609749aba896bfd2c68a10a519295c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="945" height="945" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan, the movie"> </figure>  There are drawn out scenes of KC being baptised and when he is confronted by his first wife from Darjeeling played by Anuradha Majumdar, he says he changed his religion in the hope that he will be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/bhutan-s-refugees-between-hope-and-despair">allowed back in Bhutan</a>.&nbsp; We find out KC has a second wife, a Christian Nepali played by Puja Chand. Dayahang Rai as the younger son doesn’t have much screen time to flex his acting chops. &nbsp; Acharya competently portrays a man that is equal parts haunted by the memories of and longing for his home country. KC’s pain and loss is acute when he is teaching football to Gungun but between mid-scene, he freezes, perhaps lost in memories of being in Bhutan’s national team. &nbsp; In another scene, KC recalls his mother singing a lullaby in Dzongkha. He also has a box filled with medals, photographs and a football which he deflates with a knife in a powerful depiction of his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home?fb_comment_id=1506516030025634">complicated emotions about his homeland</a>. KC keeps checking his mailbox in the hopes that his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4977">visa application</a> has been accepted. He says in Nepali: “If a tree that has already struck roots in one place is shifted to another, it will not survive.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250430140420_4a9c27410326489576c04dedf40016bda3825e8f9663317f54fbfec4cbda6d34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250430140420_4a9c27410326489576c04dedf40016bda3825e8f9663317f54fbfec4cbda6d34" data-rendition-name="original" width="1422" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan, the movie"> </figure>  Dern’s character says that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-transitional-justice-and-the-west-s-recalibration">western world</a> has become “lonely in pursuit of happiness”, another reference to Bhutan’s obsession with its Gross National Happiness index. Scenes shift quickly throughout making the story difficult to follow at times. The use of symbolism is a trite overdone. Nonetheless, भुठान is a nuanced depiction of raw pain and agony of losing one’s homeland. But one cannot help but leave the theatre feeling deflated. KC dies without having visited <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Bhutan</a>, but perhaps he does in his afterlife. It is up to the audience to create its own ending to this sad story of exile. भुठान Mad Monkey Films, 2025 Directed by Binod Paudel 102 minutes In cinemas in Nepal

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