This is the 41st instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Even as a kid, I could feel my family's standard of living improve when my father left for Iraq after a failed trucking business in Nepal. It crept up in small ways. Instead of five rupees for lunch money, I now got ten. Or the clothes my mother bought me were of a better quality. Birthday celebrations got bigger. Immediately after Iraq, he hopped on a plane to the UAE to work at an Abu Dhabi-based hospital as a supervisor of security guards. It was a relatively easy job, and he earned well. I am not sure why, but the UAE has fascinated me ever since. I suppose part of it has to do with familiarity, as I watched YouTube videos from a young age to learn more about the country where my father was working. When family members encouraged me to go to Australia or the UK for further studies, I figured the UAE was a better option as I did not want to spend my father's hard earned money to go elsewhere. I was well aware of his struggle and sacrifice, and the UAE felt like a better fit for financial reasons. After my 12th, I headed to the UAE on a family visa that my father arranged. On my second day in Dubai, I passed a walk-in interview for a salesman job at a retail store. I also did my bachelors in business administration over weekends at Jaipur University.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_cd472b68ad1a2f120dd8bc634c049946f5939d80ff2a2993dd34d67109ce72ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230926120936_cd472b68ad1a2f120dd8bc634c049946f5939d80ff2a2993dd34d67109ce72ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="450" height="592" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  I was hired as a salesman at a clothing company, but most of my responsibilities were that of a stock boy. One day I got the chance to showcase my salesmanship to the higher ups at a sales event at the World Trade Centre in Dubai. Impressed, they pushed me to take on more front-desk sales related tasks. I outperformed my peers, but I was not satisfied. My next goal was to become a store manager. I took it upon myself to learn various skills including bookkeeping, merchandising, setting schedules of staff and preparing sales reports. To learn these skills, I arrived at the store before opening and left after closing. Those extra hours did not translate to overtime pay, and I left the store only to sleep. I soon saw the fruits of my labour when my sales numbers landed me opportunities to train new hirees at the company headquarters. The networking allowed me to get a store manager job at our branch at the Ibn Battuta Mall. We Nepalis are indeed a hard-working, honest bunch, and there is a reason why we have built a strong reputation abroad amongst employers. I did not get to meet my father much because he was based in Abu Dhabi and I was in Dubai. His schedule was more flexible, so he would sometimes come to see me and we would go eat at Nepali restaurants. I did not share my struggles in the UAE with my father, I just wanted him to know the happy bits.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120928_e7e65b492d29434a1e997b85c7e8a896ed8402a5215f3ce99040ce1da7c8977a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230926120928_e7e65b492d29434a1e997b85c7e8a896ed8402a5215f3ce99040ce1da7c8977a" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Life in Dubai was not easy. There were 8 of us from five nationalities crammed into a small room. I decided with a Nepali that I got along with to get our own place. It was a tiny 7 by 4.5 feet room that had just enough space for a bunk bed and a tiny fridge. We lived frugally, a large chunk of my earnings went on rent and school fees. Living paycheck by paycheck for me meant starting off the month strong and running dry as it ended. Towards the end of the month, I would have to resort to loans from friends, or I had to stop eating out and innovate to make food last longer by adding water to fried lentils bought in the market for one dirham, or living off white rice and fried sausages, which cost peanuts. After the store manager job, I started dreaming bigger. I was transferred to the head office and had my eyes on the area manager role. But I also had other aspirations that would interrupt my career progression -- I started toying with the idea of returning to Nepal. I was in my mid-20s, and there was pressure to get married and have children. With those added responsibilities, I would not be able to choose a risky career path like entrepreneurship, my calling. I had witnessed what was possible with hard work in Dubai during my 3.5 years there. I figured if I failed in Nepal, I could always return again for a job. It was not easy to convince my family, they wanted me to head to greener pastures like the US or Australia and not return to Nepal. Many returning Nepalis who muster the courage to call it quits and come home usually backed by savings accumulated abroad. Not me. I had no savings, only courage.&nbsp; I had learnt to work hard in Dubai, and had built the confidence to deal with people from diverse backgrounds. Even as I took my Nepal-bound flight, I knew that I would be coming back to Dubai one day, either as a tourist or for a job. I knew this wasn’t the final goodbye to the place that had been home. In Nepal I tried my hand at two different clothing lines, given my retail background. On a trip to India to buy fabric for our clothing business, Jama Store, I remember waiting in line for tea every morning at a tea stall. Chhotu, the young tea seller, drew quite a crowd every morning. Intrigued, my friend Ritu Karmacharya and I spoke with Chhotu who excitedly demonstrated to us how he prepares his tea, and what makes it so special. This struck a chord, and we considered the possibility of starting a tea place in Nepal. We also noticed many classy tea cafes in India as we walked around. Once we returned, we visited places in Nepal and realised that there was scope for this venture in Nepal as well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_e18cd45a48ad0b2fb99250c591d9321f8c6300aadb4ad80cd9933d76d76ba587.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230926120936_e18cd45a48ad0b2fb99250c591d9321f8c6300aadb4ad80cd9933d76d76ba587" data-rendition-name="original" width="936" height="753" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Ritu's sister, a USA returnee, also suggested that there were such elegant tea places in New York with vibrant Moroccan decor and floor seating arrangements, and she encouraged us to pursue something similar. We had no money, so I reached out to my family members in Kuwait and the UAE who agreed to become part investors. We found a vacant place in Kumaripati and renovated it. Chiya Spot was born and we started selling tea. Our special? Chhotu's tea in honor of the boy from Delhi who inspired us. At first, we made do with three or four packets of milk every day to serve our customers. But unbeknownst to us, the famous food vlogger Mr Foodie Nepal featured our café. It blew up on social media and we started getting loads of customers. We could not keep up and had to expand our space to accommodate more customers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_0fa4ec82e0ebed65de088a4519b9d9190169017534abb92cd0d2e5e28fdecf42.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230926120936_0fa4ec82e0ebed65de088a4519b9d9190169017534abb92cd0d2e5e28fdecf42" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_1f0c371596ab95192026266dcbae582bd01e3c6b313632cdaf927b2410d61c52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230926120936_1f0c371596ab95192026266dcbae582bd01e3c6b313632cdaf927b2410d61c52" data-rendition-name="original" width="719" height="898" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Most recently, we have also opened a new branch in Boudha. While the Kumaripati branch is inspired by Moroccan/Jaipuri decor, the cafe in Boudha is inspired by Middle Eastern design, in particular from Dubai. I remember going to Dubai Gold Souk whenever I had a few hours off to relax in the market and grab a bite with a friend at a Nepali restaurant. Now, I have brought a little piece of Old Dubai back home to Nepal at the new café, to be enjoyed with karak chai that is famous there. While the vlogger Foodie Nepal's post helped draw customers to Kumaripati, my sisters’ social media posts on the Boudha branch went accidentally viral on TikTok. We got so many customers that it got unmanageable, and this even translated to angry posts and reviews as people were not happy with the wait. We were expecting our customer base to increase organically over time, not overnight. Such is the power of social media. For both good and bad. We quickly added staff and are learning every day to improve our service. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_1e044c0b6bcaea569c6651e5bf53530abc227f99d55490e5a94940ae032c4d64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230926120936_1e044c0b6bcaea569c6651e5bf53530abc227f99d55490e5a94940ae032c4d64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  I had never, in my wildest imagination, thought I would be leaving retail to sell tea one day. But both branches are doing well, Insallah. We try to create a space for people to relax over tea, conversations, or board games without putting pressure on them to leave or order more items. As long as people are happy, the customer volume or finances will automatically work themselves out, as they have over the past three years. &nbsp;We want to fill the niche left by restaurants that either offer great ambience or reasonable prices, which we don’t believe have to be mutually exclusive. Many migrants spend a large chunk of their remittances to buy land or build houses in Nepal. I returned to Nepal empty-handed. But with my earnings here, I have managed to contribute significantly to my parent's new house, and I could not be prouder. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

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From retail to selling chiya

A Member of Parliament operates a fast-food restaurant. Another MP runs a trout hatchery. A female party leader owns a pig farm. All three <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-women-go-from-home-to-house">women are in the business of politics</a>, and they have established and run their own enterprises on the side to augment household income and to backstop their careers. While their male counterparts in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/can-nepal-elections-change-its-male-stream-politics">local, provincial and federal</a> governments have earned some notoriety for having a conflict of interest because they are also infrastructure contractors, these women <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/women-leaders-set-example-for-rest-of-nepal">multitask without mixing business with politics</a>.&nbsp; Coffee, avocado and banana  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100332_7a5870a2238cf1567a28cc76eedff184b91864c9e900dd8db4aed064296a64f5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230314100332_7a5870a2238cf1567a28cc76eedff184b91864c9e900dd8db4aed064296a64f5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="devi khadka"> <figcaption>Photo: DEVI KHADKA</figcaption> </figure>  Devi Khadka is a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/guerrilla-turned-member-of-parliament">former guerrilla</a> and Maoist Centre MP from Dolakha who was elected to the Constituent Assembly in 2008. And while she might have once walked the corridors of power in Kathmandu, Khadka is still attached to the roots of her family’s farming profession. &nbsp; In 2008, Khadka established a trout farm in Dolakha, but it was irreparably destroyed during the 2015 earthquake. However, she remained steadfast in her decision to continue her business and began growing tomatoes in greenhouses in Bhaktapur. But while Khadka’s farm thrived, things were not going so well back home in Dolakha, where she was the district in-charge under the erstwhile Nepal Communist Party formed after the merger of the UML and the Maoist Centre. A meeting of elected officials of nine municipalities of Dolakha were worried that subsidised farming and agriculture in general had become all but impossible in the district because of out-migration and low yield. Khadka was determined to do something about it – not through politics but with enterprise. “The decline of agriculture shook me to my core,” Khadka recalls. “I realised that it would be impossible to revive the people's hope and trust in farming unless I did not show them myself that properly done agriculture in Dolakha was still worthwhile.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314110312_c6dfaed9dfa3fa749e4465979344458f3af67ce6191c2839f71dde6ee9a8d561.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230314110312_c6dfaed9dfa3fa749e4465979344458f3af67ce6191c2839f71dde6ee9a8d561" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="423" loading="lazy" alt="devi khadka 2"> <figcaption>Photo: DEVI KHADKA</figcaption> </figure>  So, Khadka returned home and set up the Women Floris Agriculture Private Limited in Gaurishankar Municipality, where for the last three years, Khadka and her husband Raj Kumar Shrestha have been growing coffee, avocados and bananas. Along with two other women, she set up the farm with an investment of Rs5 million. The three women are involved full-time in the business and employ 12 men on a part-time basis whenever it is farming season.&nbsp; Khadka juggles this with her role as a Central Committee member of the Maoist party. And while avocado and banana sell mostly in the domestic market, she has successfully negotiated to export her farm’s coffee to South Korea, Australia and Japan and other countries. “The business has not only given me financial independence, it has also made me an ethical politician,” she says. “Because of my business, I am able to engage in politics without resorting to dirty business, I get to demonstrate a high moral standing to my children and ensure that they have a good future.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-in-the-driving-seat">Women in the driving seat</a>, Shristi Karki Fast food and slow fashion  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_8b919284442cc235aef28995d6a6019c4ae30b59f4909c12a2d38b2eace55d6b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230314100336_8b919284442cc235aef28995d6a6019c4ae30b59f4909c12a2d38b2eace55d6b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="NABINA LAMA 1"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Nabina Lama was an MP in Nepal’s last Federal Parliament and is currently a central member of the UML. But despite an active political career, Lama owns not only one but two businesses. Her restaurant, Doban Pool Burger House in Kathmandu employs dozens of people. And many more benefit from her clothing store Rimthim Ethnic Collection, where she sells products made out of traditional dhaka and allo fabric. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_d66df1ecbfe9bd68801a6f79c910b48a6f9fac6abc5772cb8735069fdfc37b7d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230314100336_d66df1ecbfe9bd68801a6f79c910b48a6f9fac6abc5772cb8735069fdfc37b7d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="NABINA LAMA 2"> </figure>  Lama’s ethnic fashion store is a joint venture with four other women entrepreneurs, and she is a 70% partner in the fast food restaurant. Whenever Lama is busy with her party work, her husband looks after day-to-day business at both outlets. &nbsp; Like Khadka, Lama agrees that entrepreneurship has made her financially self-sufficient and independent. She adds, “Having a business is the only reason I have been able to actively engage in politics.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nurture-in-her-nature/">Nurture in her nature</a>, Babita Shrestha Piggery and soap  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_856e2ee40a5325ef875171139823c68a89637985bde3910396fda3e74dbf736b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230314100336_856e2ee40a5325ef875171139823c68a89637985bde3910396fda3e74dbf736b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="DHAN KUMARI SUNAR 1"> </figure>  Dhan Kumari Sunar, president of the Women's Organisation of the Scientific Socialist Communist Party of Nepal, operated a pig farm until it collapsed due to poor market management. But she did not let failure get her spirits down. Two years ago, she started the Tillikka Jhol Sabun Udhyog that makes liquid detergent together with Rs120,000 in investments from 12 other women from her party. Sunar took inspiration from her party’s ‘scientific’ ideology of an independent and self-reliant economy to set up her business.&nbsp; “The economic ownership of Nepali women in terms of resources and property is only 26%,” explains Sunar. “Entrepreneurship is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-nepal-women-hold-up-more-than-half-the-sky">crucial to women’s freedom</a>, we cannot be truly free until we are financially independent.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_02ffdefb8f1a074d28eb890aa7d2c9cf2dcc1c8d22899aff999d9aeb21014566.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20230314100336_02ffdefb8f1a074d28eb890aa7d2c9cf2dcc1c8d22899aff999d9aeb21014566" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="DHAN KUMARI SUNAR 2"> </figure>  Sunar’s business runs on word-of-mouth, and is doing well. But the politician in her is critical of the lack of state support for small businesses, adding that her loan proposal has been stalled. Says Sunar: “The government promises to facilitate self-employment of Nepali youth, but it is not happening on the ground. Powerful middlemen who control businesses seize the loans set aside for women and low-income individuals and communities." Translated from the Himal Khabar <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/134729">original</a> by Shristi Karki.&nbsp; Read also:&nbsp; <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/women-moving-nepal-s-climate-activism">Women moving Nepal’s climate activism</a>, Sewa Bhattarai <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-women-connecting-nepal">The women connecting Nepal</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Nepal’s enterprising women in politics

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221e39c7e80680e0c02ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2851" height="1901"/><figcaption>All photos: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>The mountains of Palpa in central Nepal are famous for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/from-heads-to-toes/">dhaka weaves</a>. Besides the colourful handcrafted fabric, Palpa is now also the centre of lemon cultivation in the country, thanks to an enterprising couple.Goma Bhandari with her husband Hum Nath run the Bhandari Lemon Farm in Kutedanda of Tinau Rural Municipality which does not just supply lemons to surrounding market towns, but grows saplings to encourage others to switch to this cash crop.Over the years, the two have cultivated a piece of land that was considered too arid for farming, and made money grow on trees.“If you are disciplined, have a support system and the drive to continue pushing forward, nothing is impossible,” says Goma, who is fondly known in the area as ‘Kagati Didi'.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QgKeNuFA1IFor someone who did not even know the ABCs of farming till the age of 19, Goma has come a long way to carve a niche in Palpa’s booming <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19349#.YqNa845BxpQ">agro-business</a>. She was raised in a family that valued education, even for girls.Busy with school, Goma never had to work in the fields. At her maternal home in Riddhikot, she was the youngest of the three siblings and her father, a schoolteacher, made sure she completed high school.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221e69c7e80680e0c02dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="166" height="168">Over 20 years ago, she married Hum Nath, who was a teacher in a local government school. His salary was not enough to support the new family with two children. Goma wanted to find a salaried job but with ageing in-laws much of the household chores fell on her shoulders.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221e79c7e80680e0c02dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2738" height="1826">She would help her father-in-law in the fields, as he patiently taught her the basics of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming/">farming</a>. In the terraced farm at the edge of a hill near their home, the two would work the soil to grow maize, millet, buckwheat as well as vegetables.When her first son was born a year after marriage, Goma knew she had to do something to augment the family income. By now, she had enough confidence to know that farming was the way forward.“I asked my father-in-law what if we planted two saplings instead of one. He laughed and said that it wasn’t about the number but the care we give to it that yields fruits,” recalls Goma.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221eb9c7e80680e0c02e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2497" height="1665">Taking all she had learned from her father-in-law, she tried her hand in commercial farming, producing vegetables like cauliflowers and tomatoes and fruits like litchi and mangoes.This brought in decent earnings, but it was hard work. There was no irrigation, and the monkeys would raid the crops by day, and rabbits and deer would destroy it at night.“I often thought what the use was of working so hard for months only for all of it to be eaten by wild animals. We had to look for alternatives,” Goma says.There was an old lemon tree at the edge of their field that her father-in-law had planted decades ago. It did not need much water, nor did they need to tend to as carefully as the other crops. Yet, the tree would yield enough lemons to earn up to Rs10,000 every season.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221ef9c7e80680e0c02e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2707" height="1805">Goma and Hum Nath studied the lemon market and did some back-of-the-envelope calculations. “We found out there was a huge demand, but Nepal imports millions of rupees worth of lemons every year from India." The couple was sure they could meet at least a part of the demand locally.So, in early 2013 they planted ten saplings along with the other vegetables. The acidity and sourness in the fruit and the thorns in the plant meant that the animals would not destroy it. It also did not require much care or water which made it perfect, explained Hum Nath.Neighbours laughed at them, and the family was not happy with the decision. They all expected the couple to fail.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221f69c7e80680e0c02e2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3162" height="2108">But Goma added more lemon saplings, and by the third year, they were selling their first harvest in the market in Dumre and Butwal. Today, her lemons go to Chitwan, Kathmandu, Pokhara and further afield.“No one believed me at first. My in-laws were very worried. As a woman it was difficult navigating the market. But the quality of my produce spoke for itself,” says Goma. “And once things started picking up, our parents were very proud. I am happy they got to see us succeed before they passed away.”And now, people who once mocked the Bhandaris have started planting lemon themselves. Goma has sold over 10,000 lemon saplings. Annual sales of lemons have crossed 9 tonnes, giving Goma’s company a profit of over Rs1.2 million two years ago.They also sold 150 litres of concentrated lemon juice to test the market, and they want to add that and lemon pickle to the range of value-added products on offer.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221fa9c7e80680e0c02e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2075" height="1383">“Farming is not easy but if you work hard there are good returns,” assures Hum Nath. The couple’s oldest son has enrolled in a Bachelor of Science in Agriculture on a full scholarship in Bhairawa. Their younger one is also majoring in science.When she is not busy on her farm, Goma spends time in community work. She has served as the chair for a local women’s agricultural cooperative, as well as in the management committee of two local schools.“For the society to progress it is important that women come out of their homes and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-hold-up-more-than-half-the-sky/">take ownership of the space around them</a>,” says Goma. “This can only happen when they are financially independent and develop leadership skills.”She worries about cheaper saplings and lemon from India, but the couple is confident that with economies of scale they can compete. Goma says much of her success is due to her husband and family.Adds Palpa’s famous Kagati Didi: “If my in-laws and husband were not supportive, I would not be where I am today.”This is the first in the series Striking Roots, where we feature the stories of entrepreneurs from across the country. If you know someone whose story needs to be shared, email us as editors@nepalitimes.com

Sahina Shrestha

Money grows on trees here

<figure><img width="1649" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11979c7e80680e0a9894jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: MAKKUSÉ</figcaption></figure>The first thing that strikes us about the Makkusé wrappings is the tasteful copper-and-black design. The second thing is just how tasty the contents are.Anushka Shrestha, former-Miss Nepal and founder of the country’s newest <a href="https://www.facebook.com/makkuse.np/">food brand</a>, says the colours are conscious deviations from the ubiquitous gold. And the treats inside revive traditional Newa condiments to a more global clientele.“With the Makkusé design, we wanted to evoke a more traditional experience of the Newa community where copper features more predominantly than gold,” Shrestha explains. “We want our products to remind people of the taste of the old Kathmandu. But at the same time, also be unique, modern and sustainable.”While gold may be considered the more obvious choice, the team felt that copper captures the Nepaliness more accurately. Indeed, ‘Authentic Nepali Luxury’ constitutes the brand vision and narrative of Makkusé, and the colours, with the handcrafted boxes made with lokta bark handmade paper, give the products a truly authentic and unique look.Next comes what the boxes hold. Unwind the string, and with each turn the anticipation rises. Open the lid. Inside, two glass jars of gundpak sit snugly. This is a creamy fudge-like dessert popular in Nepal, traditionally made with thickened milk and sugar, but with Makkusé, there is an added twist: its gundpak is infused with rosewater and pistachio, or mocha. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d119b9c7e80680e0a9895jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Other products include pustakari made from molasses cooked with ghee, milk, and often topped with nuts. To this, Makkusé adds chocolate gundpak fudge cookies, and oats gundpak pumpkin seed cookies — all of which carry their very own special taste.  For Anushka Shrestha, the line of products reflects the brand’s dedication to both <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/made-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">tradition and innovation</a>. With immense love and faith in Nepal, she always knew she wanted to work in the country, but found the field of possibilities and platforms a bit overwhelming at first. “There is so much one can do here,” she says, “and that I think brings a sort of fear in youths today of not knowing what to do, it definitely did in me.” But her passion for development, project management and the Nepali culture eventually helped her narrow her options down, and Makkusé was launched in November 2020 when she was bedridden with Covid. To say people were a bit skeptical would be an understatement, but there was urgency for something comforting during the pandemic when fear, dread and tragedy were abound. Further, the break in the supply chain during the lockdown led to an overwhelming amount of waste. All this inspired Anushka to mitigate that gap via locally sourced resources and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-goes-online-shopping-in-2020/">deliver little packets of delights</a> in which people might find some recourse. The initial reaction is still fresh in Anushka’s mind. “There was a huge collective exclamation: ‘आईं !’” she says. After the initial reaction people were pleased with the products, and slowly, sales picked up. Customers returned time and again, with positive things to say. “And two months after the first sale, it began to feel like a step in the right direction and something all Nepalis could be proud of,” Shrestha adds. Makkusé’s pustakari and gundpak makers have years of culinary experience, and some of the families have been working in the field for generations. The milk comes from Kavre where the elevation is said to add to the unique taste, and the recipes adhere to the long-established tradition of sweet-making in the Newa community of the Valley — something not taught in culinary schools. The skill to make these sweets are mostly handed down from parents to children, or from makers to apprentices. But far fewer people today are willing to learn or train and keep the culture afloat. With Tihar around the corner, Makkusé offers a delightful new way to greet family and friends in the festival of lights. There is no exact translation to माक्कुसे , but perhaps the brand tagline ‘simply scrumptious’ comes close to the original Newa word. Who knows, “Makkusé” could just become a new form of Tihar greeting.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-making-of-chaku/">The making of chaku</a>, Monika Deupala

Ashish Dhakal

Let them eat pustakari

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71f99c7e80680e0600fejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo : KHAALISISI</figcaption></figure>Real entrepreneurship is about innovation, executing ideas, consistency, not giving up easily and not worrying too much about finding investors immediately.Prospective entrepreneurs do not need an MBA from an expensive international university: they start with a great idea and a bit of money, and they set about implementing the idea step by step.Young entrepreneur Aayushi KC is a good example of this. She quit a secure job at an international aid agency to start her own company, Khaalisisi Management. Khaalisisi uses a digital platform to link garbage sellers and buyers for waste transactions. It was an unusual idea, and many thought KC had lost her mind.Read Also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-load-of-rubbish-kathmandus-garbage-problem,4039" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A load of rubbish,</a> Sahina Shrestha<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/making-money-from-garbage-in-kathmandu,2055" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rupees from rubbish,</a> Sahina Shrestha“Every time I shared my idea, people laughed and ridiculed me. Nobody had done this kind of business before and so everyone was sceptical,” she recalls. But she was determined to use this sustainable business solution to clean up Kathmandu.It wasn’t easy, as KC had no technical background on information technology, recycling waste or garbage management. All she had were the facts and a motivation to make her idea work.She did her own research and met experts and people who were already recycling garbage. And it was after meeting Kathmandu’s waste collectors that KC learnt how <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/recycle-reuse-reduce-garbage-kathmandu,1279" target="_blank" rel="noopener">waste management</a> works in practice.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihLCphyeO6o&amp;t=6sThere are about 13,000 collectors in Kathmandu alone, and there was already a network of people managing waste by recycling in their own way. KC decided to partner with them.“They are the real waste entrepreneurs who deserve to be respected and the society needs to dignify their hard work and not disrespect them,” says KC. She shares that one of the best rewards for her is to see collectors get more respect after they started working with Khaalisisi, which provides them with uniforms and ID cards. The company employs 300 collectors, who are known as Khaalisisi Friends.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/returning-to-nepal-has-its-rewards/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Returning to Nepal has its rewards</a>, Naresh Newar<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rupeshs-epic-journey/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rupesh's epic journey</a>, Naresh NewarThe way it works is this: Khaalisisi connects the collectors with waste sellers through the Khaalisisi digital platform, social media and phone apps. Waste sellers, mostly city residents with a lot of trash, contact the Khaalisisi team for a pick-up. The company then contacts the waste collectors, who make house calls to purchase the waste. Recyclables are then sold on the market, and Khaalisisi gets a commission.This process has apparently helped waste collectors increase their incomes. They no longer need to roam neighbourhoods on their bicycles, shouting to attract the attention of residents.In just three years, Khaalisisi has become a recognized brand gaining popularity in Nepal and abroad for its novel approach to sustainability. In 2018, Forbes listed KC in its 30 Under 30 Social Entrepreneurs, selected from thousands of online nominations. In December she was one of the top five youth social entrepreneurs out of 1,000 competitors from 90 countries to speak during the World Bank Youth Summit in Washington DC. The Asia Society also included her as one of the 2019 Class of Asia 21 Young Leaders.“This is a business-for-profit initiative, but as a company we also have a social responsibility to educate people on how to manage their own waste and create a better environment starting with our own neighbourhoods,” says KC, whose team also visits schools to urge them to manage their own waste. The government also needs to step in to give incentives to people who actively reduce, recycle and reuse, she says.Khaalisi and other business initiatives involving waste management are gaining traction as awareness grows worldwide about sustainability, environmental degradation, plastic pollution in the rivers and seas and the climate crisis.“There was nothing extraordinary about our business idea. We all have great ideas but they will come to nothing if we fail execute them. I acted on a simple idea and that was the starting point to build this company,” says KC, now 30.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/staying-in-nepal-to-create-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Staying in Nepal to create jobs</a>, Naresh Newar

Nepali entrepreneur turns trash into cash

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDzDf8n-eSYKarvika Thapa was living the American dream in Boston with a promising career in the Information Technology sector. But after 14 years she decided to head back home to Nepal with her husband and two young daughters.During the three years since, she has worked hard to establish a successful international software company, Kimbu Tech, one of the very few women-led IT startups in Nepal.“At first, it was nerve-wracking, but I was excited to give back what I owed to my country where I grew up,” says the 40-year-old Karvika. “I also wanted my daughters to learn Nepali culture.”Starting a company was not at the top of her mind when she returned to Kathmandu, but when she found that there were so few women in Nepal’s IT sector, Karvika decided to take the risk and work to create quality jobs, especially for women in a male-dominated industry.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/staying-in-nepal-to-create-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Staying in Nepal to create jobs</a>, Naresh NewarKarvika had been one of the handful of female students in the first year of Kathmandu College of Management’s bachelor’s program in information systems. She then went to the US for her MBA and stayed on to work, over the course of her years there, in IT solutions, data management, database marketing and campaigns in education, healthcare, and retail.Today, she leads a quality team of Nepali women and men who provide software development and maintenance for companies in Israel and the US. Karvika hopes that their work will help create a home for qualified and talented programmers in Nepal and that that in turn will build recognition globally for Nepali programmers.There are a few other companies working in IT and Artificial Intelligence in Nepal, and the sector has great potential as an employment generator. But Nepal’s talent pool of skilled programmers is still a well-kept secret in the IT world.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70b29c7e80680e060090jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1188"/><figcaption>Photo : NARESH NEWAR</figcaption></figure>Read also: Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding, Naresh Newar“We have very professional young Nepalis working on some of the world’s most innovative animation and block chain projects. They have also worked on Disney movies while still based in Nepal, so there is no shortage of talent here” said Karvika.Although Karvika got her degree and worked abroad, she has learnt from experience that it is not necessary to have an IT degree to get into programming or coding. Students can enter the tech business with an arts or any other degree, and neither do Nepalis have to go abroad to find such jobs. Karvika’s company has been providing software and programming training in order to create more programmers and has been working with the Robotics Association of Nepal to provide scholarships to encourage young women.Read also: Rupesh's epic journey, Naresh Newar“My dream is to see women not just become IT experts and programmers but also take a leadership role in this field,” said Karvika, who wants also to change the mindsets of parents, who are so keen on sending their children abroad for better education and jobs. She says times have changed, and it is possible to do as well right here in Nepal, especially in the tech sector.There is high demand for programmers globally and Nepal should prepare itself to ride this wave. There are many international companies trying to set up shop here and build our IT industry, but for this to happen the government needs to step in and take advantage of the opportunity, explains Karvika. She gives the example of Bangladesh, which until a few years ago was not known for tech, but where the industry is now booming.Asked about her most rewarding experience after returning to Nepal, Karvika says it was when her company signed a contract with an international client. She said: “We had worked hard to get the project, and when we got it we realised we had put Nepal on the global map. It was amazing not just for our company but also for the country, for being internationally recognised.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/lighting-up-her-darkness/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Lighting up her darkness</a>, Naresh Newar

Returning to Nepal has its rewards

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd5O93-Ipg4&amp;feature=youtu.beDil Bahadur Gurung was 13 when he left his isolated home village of Orang in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/heritage-conservation-outside-kathmandu,3487" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dolakha district</a> to get a better education in Kathmandu. He was used to hard work, and was prepared to face any hardship to pay his way through school. He worked as domestic servant for a family in exchange for food and shelter.The teenager had to wake up at 4AM and finish all household chores to able to join morning classes at 6am and return to finish the rest of his work. At night, after all the cleaning and washing he would do his ‘homework’. In three years, he graduated from high school and joined a college, while working at a cargo company to pay for his studies.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrant-worker-finds-farming-in-nepal-more-rewarding/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding</a>, Naresh newar“It wasn’t an easy life, but I was so determined to study. My self-confidence and motivation prepared me for this life, and later on in my business,” says Dil, now 47.He started working in a shop in Thamel and took technical training in hand-crafted products at the Department of Cottage and Small Industries. He had some savings by then, and with help from an uncle he invested it in his own company, ‘Handcraft’ in Kapan to produce lamp shades, notebooks, boxes, greeting cards from <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Putting-it-down-on-paper-nepali,3750" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali lokta paper.</a><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151128/636a67b09c7e80680e0599efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: NARESH NEWAR</figcaption></figure>But competition was stiff, he had few customers and he did not have access to raw materials. He struggled to keep his business afloat. His parents insisted that he close down the shop, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/reducing-labour-pain/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">migrate to the Gulf</a> for a more stable salary, like many of his peers.“Everyone was asking me to close down my company, but that just increased my determination to keep going. I believed that I could make the business of paper handicrafts a success,” recalls Dil.So, he headed back to his village in Dolakha to collect wild lichen, pipal leaves, and lokta pulp to create handmade greeting cards. Back in Kathmandu, he went door to door, from one shop to the next, walking and cycling all over Kathmandu with his products. Even after being rudely rejected often, he did not lose heart and gradually managed to find loyal customers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rupeshs-epic-journey/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rupesh's epic journey</a>, Naresh NewarHe slowly diversified his products and started making lamp shades, small boxes, pouches – all made from lokta. Before long, the original designs started bringing in orders from wholesalers, hotels, restaurants, schools. He started a small outlet in Dhobighat which became popular. As business picked up, he hired 16 fulltime staff and also involved another 150 painters, flower and other suppliers.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151128/636a67b49c7e80680e0599f0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151128/636a67b89c7e80680e0599f1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480">Today, Dil Bahadur Gurung’s company is valued at Rs10 million, and he has an annual turnover of Rs4 million. He is also encouraging his 20-year old son to finish his studies and join the business so he does not have to move abroad.“I am so glad that I didn’t migrate abroad to work as a labourer, and I want to encourage other Nepalis to stay in the country because this place is full of opportunities for those who are willing to work hard starting small businesses,” says Dil. “Working abroad is not a solution. We Nepalis have to tap our abilities to start our own ventures and create jobs for other Nepalis at home.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/lighting-up-her-darkness/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lighting up her darkness</a>, Naresh NewarInstead of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-and-malaysia-rewrite-rules-for-migrant-labour/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal government working on deals with foreign countries</a> to send labourers, it can do just the opposite by bringing in more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/invest-in-investment/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">foreign investment</a> to create jobs right here in the country, he says, adding: “We cannot afford to lose any of our younger generation by migrating abroad and working in dirty and dangerous jobs.”Journalist-turned-farmer Naresh Newar presents this multimedia column, Made in Nepal, in Nepali Times every fortnight profiling stories of successful small entrepreneurs.

Staying in Nepal to create jobs

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181148/636a966f9c7e80680e05dc68jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: EPIC MOUNTAIN BIKE</figcaption></figure>Rupesh Shrestha was nearly paralysed after a spinal injury, and his business was on the verge of bankruptcy. Just when he thought things could not get much worse, he lost his wife to cancer.Today, Shrestha is a living example of someone who turned adversity into accomplishment, using a positive mental attitude and persistence to transform a small bicycle shop into one of Kathmandu’s top mountain bike stores.“When you are on the edge you learn so much about life, and it was my passion for business that drove me to success,” says Shrestha. “You can either get stuck or move forward.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrant-worker-finds-farming-in-nepal-more-rewarding/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding</a>, Naresh NewarFive years ago, after suffering a prolapsed disc, he was hospitalised then bedridden at home for months. It was rigorous physiotherapy and yoga that saved him from paralysis.Against his father’s advice, he had set up Epic Mountain Bike in 2000, when he was just 20. Shrestha was ahead of his time because Kathmandu was not yet ready for mountain biking, and the business did not do well.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76OS31e_2iUThen tragedy struck: his wife was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer and despite treatment she died in 2016.“This was a very difficult time for me, but during the 13-day mourning period I did a lot of self-reflection about life. It was the support and counselling from my friends and family that helped me to move on,” recalls Shrestha.The trick was to put his energy completely into his mountain bike store, understand the market, promote cutting-edge technology and focus on making the venture successful.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15137#.XdZnjdUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cycle city</a>, Roma Aryal“At that time, 80% of my clients were westerners and 20% Nepali — today it is just the reverse,”  says Shrestha, who sees many urban Nepalis now adopting the sport, taking advantage of the country’s challenging topography and stunning scenery to undertake adventures on two wheels.He went to Singapore to train himself in the potential for mountain biking, and read and researched the subject starting with the bible of the sport, The Complete Book of Mountain Biking, by mountain biking pioneer Gary Fisher.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181148/636a96749c7e80680e05dc69jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1050">Back in Nepal, Shrestha re-started his shop in Jhamsikhel and trained staff to become mechanics. “I was very passionate about this business, not only to sell bikes but to get more Nepalis interested in going out to the great outdoors. This is both fun and environment-friendly.”Shrestha started mapping mountain-biking routes around Kathmandu Valley, giving enthusiasts on-the-spot training to develop biking skills and techniques. Outside Kathmandu, his sister company, Epic Rides Nepal, started guided tours, taking cyclists for one-day trips to Hetauda and Chandragiri Ridge, and then longer and tougher 10-day grinds in Mustang and Annapurna.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-city-for-cyclists/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">No city for cyclists</a>, Sewa BhattaraiThe company organised even longer 21-day trips to Lhasa, cycling 1,000 km. This September, Shrestha’s team organised the first of a kind, 12-day biking trip for Nepali riders in Colorado and Utah.“Since the beginning we targeted Nepalis because that made the business sustainable,” says Shrestha, adding that his Nepali customers have helped his company grow to an annual turnover of Rs20 million today.Shrestha is also involved in various charities, organising awareness campaigns through annual bike rallies on <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/think-pink-breast%20cancer-diagnosis-treatment,3877" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Breast Cancer</a> Day in memory of his wife, donating the proceeds to hospitals to treat cancer patients who cannot afford treatment. He also helps with an HIV/AIDS treatment centre in Kirtipur.Rupesh Shrestha’s advice for success is to muster courage, patience and passion, and learn from failures. And finally: “Only get into a business doing something you are really passionate about, and don’t rush it. Never give up.”

Rupesh’s epic journey

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a56a59c7e80680e054799jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2250" height="1500"/>There has been a dramatic shift in the way young Nepalis think and generate ideas to bring about social change. Some have built robots that can operate in Nepali and help the differently-abled to live comfortable lives. Others are tinkering with artificial intelligence to improve the quality of health care or education.Funding for these ideas is currently limited to prize money and support from family. Nepal needs more risk-taking, high return-seeking, incubation investors and a venture capital culture. This will require individuals who recognise that the ideas and the people who develop them are worth investing in, and are willing to take a calculated risk. They are people who know success will come with high returns.Parents still want their children to focus on academics, get a stable job that pays a regular salary at the end of each month and eventually have grandchildren who will provide social security. Buying land in Kathmandu and building a house with a few extra rooms to generate rent is the priority for many. But there are signs these social trends are changing.Many people may not be aware of the term ‘social entrepreneurship’ but are practising it in their careers. Young Nepalis are setting up recycling projects to help clean up the city, making garbage their business. Others are turning plastic waste into building materials for housing. Some are helping slum-dwelling children to stay in school.The problem with these ideas is finding sources of funding beyond the initial grant, and how to scale the impact in a country that is used to getting things for free. Motivated youth struggle with policy, laws, finance and technology transfer, and this is where mentors can help. Mahabir Pun’s National Innovation Centre could be one of the catalysts to help the community understand the value of these new ideas.Nepal is full of projects with lofty objectives that tend to do more of the same (and make more of the same mistakes). Donors comfortable with buzzwords like ‘capacity building’, ‘training stakeholders’ and ‘gender mainstreaming’ are a dime a dozen, but they are not interested in real world innovations.Plagiarism and downloading ideas from the web is a real challenge. In our part of the world ‘copyright’ means ‘copy without making any mistakes’. The moment you search for ideas around water, plastics and climate change, the internet will give you access to thousands of them. Adapting ideas to the Nepali context with due recognition to the original thinkers would be more useful. Replication and scaling up are what make these ideas succeed.We also still need bankruptcy laws that protect investors’ companies whose ideas may not take off. The R&amp;D research budget of a country is just as critical as the amount we spend on health, education and infrastructure.There are many online competitions calling for social entrepreneurship that may not reach many Nepalis currently without access to the Net. Young hard-working people living in harsh, remote terrain may be the best source of ideas to uplift the underserved. The country has missed many opportunities to attain prosperity — it is time we listened to those with ideas whose voices we ignored in the past.The winning idea at a recent competition came from a young woman who had designed software to help municipalities create new drainage systems. She needs our support. We have listened far too long to those who talked and did nothing — let’s now listen to young changemakers.Anil Chitrakar is President of Siddharthinc

Anil Chitrakar

Let’s listen to Nepal’s young changemakers

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYmgDIkIIEwLike many Nepali housemothers, Bhimi Gurung spent her life preparing three meals a day and bringing up her children. Still, she felt she had not accomplished much, and one day confided as much to her daughter, Muna, who had just returned from the United States.The remark affected Muna Gurung deeply. Her mother sacrificed her whole life for her family, and now she needed something else to keep her busy doing what she was best at.Bhimi Gurung’s pickles were famous among family and friends, so last year Muna started marketing varieties of organic pickles under the name <a href="https://www.facebook.com/amako.nepal/">Āmāko</a> (which simply means Mother’s). In no time, the pickles started flying off the shelves, first at weekend organic markets, then in stores, and now online.<a href="https://www.instagram.com/amako.nepal/">Āmāko</a> is now an intergenerational company, producing 10 varieties of handmade traditional Gurung pickles, with four more varieties in development.“My mother’s cooking, especially her pickles, used to be admired by Nepalis and foreigners. So, I thought, why not turn it into a business?” Muna says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161116/636921929c7e80680e03a0ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"/>It was not easy to persuade her mother to get involved, however. What finally clinched it was when Bhimi Gurung remembered that when foods are served to the Rinpoche in a Buddhist monastery, the name of the cook is often taken with reverence.“The cooks are usually thanked and blessed for their kindness and culinary skills,” explains Bhimi Gurung, “I cannot compare myself with the great chefs of the past but the thought of bringing happiness and satisfaction to many people was what pulled me towards this idea.”Pickles (achar in Nepali) are an integral part of Nepali cuisine, a spicy and/or sour condiment that complements the dal bhat tarkari staple. Historically, pickles in many societies were a way to preserve vitamin-rich food for the winter before refrigeration was invented.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/could-nepali-cuisine-go-global/">Could Nepali cuisine go global?</a>, Thomas Heaton<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161116/636921959c7e80680e03a0dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Bhimi Gurung’s most popular Āmāko item is the khursani achar, a chilly pickle that is lip-smackingly hot. It is versatile and can spice up omelettes or meat dishes, can be mixed with soy sauce for easy snack dipping, and can even be sprinkled over dal.“My mother experiments with different ingredients for new recipes. She takes charge of the creative department while I manage the marketing and money matters,” says Muna Gurung.Her easy-going father RB Gurung tends the organic garden, where the ingredients are grown, and does the outreach to the markets. He also strongly pushed his own favourite, the gundruk achar, which is another hot favourite among customers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-kiwi-takes-to-gundruk/">A Kiwis takes to Gundruk</a>, Thomas Heaton<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161116/636921979c7e80680e03a0dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Muna Gurung brought Bhusan Shilpakar to do the contemporary branding and packaging of the elegant glass jars which contributes to the exotic image Āmāko has built for itself within one year.She looks at her mother affectionately, and says: “I now understand my mother better, not just as a mother but as a woman with her own needs and hopes.”With a sparkle in her eyes Bhimi Gurung also shares her gratitude: “At 69, my life has changed completely. Thanks to my daughter, I am living the happiest and most satisfying moments of my life.”Āmāko pickles are available at: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Maya-Ko-Chino-2134801103418445/?ref=br_rs">Maya Ko Chino, Jhamsikhel</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/onetreestop/?fref=mentions&amp;__tn__=K-R">One Tree Stop, Darbar Marg</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/EVERFRESH.KTM/?fref=mentions&amp;__tn__=K-R">Everfresh Café, Pani Pokhari,</a> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/farmersmarketlesherpanepal/?fref=mentions&amp;__tn__=K-R">Le Sherpa's Farmers' Market, Pani Pokhari,</a> Garden's Café, Bouddha, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/karmacoffeenp/">Kar.ma Coffee, Thamel</a>, <a href="http://daraz.com.np">daraz.com.np</a> and <a href="http://smartdoko.com">smartdoko.com</a>.Watch the Gurung duo in action as they prepare one of their popular items, Mulako achar and talk about how her pickle-making skills started a successful inter-generational business. <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161116/6369219a9c7e80680e03a0e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">

The mother of all pickles

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

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

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