<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71f59c7e80680e0600fcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="592" height="1500"/><figcaption>Illustration : BHANU BHATTARAI</figcaption></figure>While citizens in Western democracies try to get their governments to combat the misuse of their private data by internet companies, here in Nepal the concern is about the state itself <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/spooking-nepalis-by-snooping-on-them/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">prying on citizens</a>.Silicon Valley companies whose values exceed the GDP of medium-sized countries thrive in collecting and selling data in the free market of surveillance capitalism. As these companies become more powerful, governments, especially in Europe, are under pressure to protect the privacy of citizens. Nepal, on the other hand, seems to want to practice surveillance communism.What alerts us to this looming danger is the recent convergence of the Criminal Code penalising social media content, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/long-shadows/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Media Council Bill</a>,  and the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rule-by-law/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Information Technology Bill</a> with the Special Services Bill and the acquisition of sophisticated eavesdropping technology by the state.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-freedom-after-expression/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">No Freedom After Expression </a> , Kiran NepalNo doubt, all governments need surveillance technology to control crime and terrorism by giving the intelligence community the proper wherewithal. But in all democracies, there are legal safeguards in place to protect unwarranted spying on citizens that would infringe on their fundamental right to privacy.What is worrisome in Nepal is that the state security apparatus and investigation agencies are not just being allowed to import surveillance technology: the government is simultaneously pushing legislation that would remove current restrictions on their use.This is made even more dangerous by the fact that it is happening at a time of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">unprecedented impunity, the collapse of accountability of public officials</a>, an epidemic of extortion and corruption, and an open <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/crushers-of-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">politico-criminal nexus</a>. The past record of the hacking of Nepal government agency websites and the rise in cybercrime does not inspire confidence in confidentiality safeguards.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gagging the press in installments</a>, Sewa BhattaraiNepal’s spy agencies have been on a shopping spree to import Russian, Chinese and Malaysian speech forensics technology, CCTV cameras, SIM locators, Digital Information Systems, Mobile Device Management Systems, and International Mobile Subscriber Catchers.The Central Investigation Bureau has acquired SIM locators that will allow it to pinpoint where the user is without having to go through a telecommunication provider and obtain a court warrant.The National Investigation Bureau which has been brought directly under the Prime Minister’s Office this month called for bids to establish a Digital Information System to integrate the data flow of various security and intelligence agencies. The Nepal Telecommunication Authority is soon getting a Rs1 billion Mobile Device Management System to keep track of phone users from the Malaysian company Nuemera (M) Sdn Bhd, which was linked in 2017 to a data leak involving 46.2 million Malaysian mobile phone accounts.Read Also:  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-undermining-free-expression-hrw/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal undermining free expression</a>The government has also loosened regulations governing the use of CCTV cameras, and the import of these devices doubled in 2019 to Rs970 million from the previous year. The Special Services Bill in Parliament would also allow International Mobile Subscriber Identity (IMSI) ‘Catcher’ that can intercept and tap phones. The use of these surveillance devices is so sensitive that the European Court of Justice has actually outlawed them.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/spooking-nepalis-by-snooping-on-them/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Special Services Bill</a> gives the chief of the National Investigation Bureau the sole authority to tap phones, without a court permission. Given the prevalence of blackmail and extortion against political and business rivals, the risk of abuse of this spyware is unacceptably high in Nepal. For example, police last week leaked CCTV footage of an altercation at Kathmandu domestic airport between a female police officer at the security check and singer Astha Raut. A state agency that has no qualms about flouting rules about proper use of footage has no right to be tapping phones.Putting together these recent decisions, new laws and pending bills in Parliament, the ruling NCP seems intent on extending control, spying on citizens to intimidate them, and silencing dissent. In most democracies, governments make laws to protect the privacy of citizens. Nepal makes laws to snoop on them.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/11/21/the-surveillance-state/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Surveillance State</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Creeping control over the press in Nepal</a> Ajay Pradhan<h2>10 years ago this week</h2>Prime Minister Oli last week accused editors of “not having a heart”, and his ruling NCP is trying to push laws restricting press freedom. Not much different than ten years ago when it was the Pushpa Kamal Dahal-led Maoists who were doing it. Looks like the ex-democratic UML is no fan of a free media. Excerpt from an editorial in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/486" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#487</a> of 29 Jan-4 Feb 2010.Pushpa Kamal Dahal has done it again. He is once more blaming the messenger, the ‘big media houses’ for undermining his party. Usually when a politician repeats his accusation, it reinforces its significance. But with Dahal, the ranting now seems to have the opposite effect. He has cried wolf so often that the remark made during a speech in Sindhuli on Monday went either unreported, or was relegated to the inside pages.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71f79c7e80680e0600fdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="515" height="800">Yet there is a sinister undercurrent here. The Maoists have made no attempt to hide their contempt for the notion of a free press, just as they have for nonviolent pluralistic politics. Dahal went on to accuse the media of being ‘anti-nationalist.’ This has always been the Maoist method.

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In a surveillance state

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a95ad9c7e80680e05dc1fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="629" height="420"/><figcaption>Photo: ERICK KABENDERA/IPS</figcaption></figure>Using armies of online fans, trolls and, automated ‘bots’, the world’s authoritarians and populists are increasingly using the web to drown out opponents and swing public opinion and elections their way, a new study says.<a href="https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-net/freedom-net-2018">The Freedom on the Net report</a>, compiled annually by Freedom House, a US government-funded research group, confirms the fears of many online activists and paints a bleak portrait of how the internet is straining democracies.The 32-page document, released earlier in November and titled <a href="https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-net/freedom-net-2018">The Crisis of Social Media</a>, found that more than half of the world’s 3.8 billion web users live in countries that censor the internet and use pro-government trolls to manipulate the online realm.Freedom House President Mike Abramowitz warned of online propaganda and disinformation spreading ahead of elections in 24 countries. The group assesses web freedom in 65 countries that host 87 percent of the world’s webusers.“Governments are finding that on social media, propaganda works better than censorship,” Abramowitz said in a statement. “Authoritarians and populists around the globe are exploiting both human nature and computer algorithms to conquer the ballot box, running roughshod over rules designed to ensure free and fair elections.”Researchers found that officials had worked with celebrity yes-men, business titans and semi-autonomous “online mobs” to spread clickbait, conspiracy theories and misleading memes from “marginal echo chambers to the political mainstream”.The report spotlights Brazil, where Jair Bolsonaro’s presidential election win in October 2018 was preceded by misleading news, anti-gay rumours and doctored images being spread by the right-winger’s fans via YouTube and WhatsApp, researchers said.In Egypt, the government of President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi blocked some 34,000 websites to stifle debates about whether el-Sisi should be allowed to hold power until the end of 2030 ahead of an April referendum, the report said.Hundreds of thousands of online trolls spread fake news to swing voters behind two main parties in April-May elections in India this year, it added. Meanwhile, Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s ‘NaMo’ app was reportedly relaying users’ data to a private analytics firm.The world’s two biggest economies — the United States and China — come in for special scrutiny. In the US, much like in the 2016 presidential election that brought Donald Trump to power, online trolls spread “disinformation” during the November 2018 mid-term vote and during the confirmation process for Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh.Meanwhile, US immigration officials are increasingly demanding access to the mobile phones and laptops of visitors and snooping on immigrants’ social media feeds, operating with “little oversight or transparency”, the report says.China remains the “world’s worst abuser of internet freedom” — a title it has held for four consecutive years, and where a phalanx of online commentators known as the 50 Cent Army pushes government messages online.Beijing clamped down harder on web users ahead of the 30th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre on 15 April and got tighter still in the face of ongoing anti-government protests in Hong Kong, the report says.Adrian Shahbaz, the group’s research director for technology and democracy, warned that even governments of smaller economies can now afford large-scale “advanced social media surveillance programs”.Last month, Facebook sued NSO Group, an Israeli surveillance firm, for using the WhatsApp messaging service to hack the phones of some 1,400 dissidents, journalists, diplomats, officials and others for their clients, understood to be governments and spy agencies.“Once reserved for the world’s most powerful intelligence agencies, big-data spying tools are making their way around the world,” said Shahbaz. “Even in countries with considerable safeguards for fundamental freedoms, there are already reports of abuse.”Researchers noted that officials in 47 countries, armed with such sophisticated web-snooping tools, had arrested web users between June 2018 and May 2019 for posting political, social or religious messages online.“The future of internet freedom rests on our ability to fix social media,” said Shahbaz.“Since these are mainly American platforms, the US must be a leader in promoting transparency and accountability in the digital age. This is the only way to stop the internet from becoming a Trojan horse for tyranny and oppression.” (IPS)

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Online trolls, bots & snoopers imperil democracy

https://youtu.be/3q459iYj9HAAshna Lama flips a black folio. Each page has a stark female figure in white. Some standing up, others sitting, some lying down or meditating.The flowy edges enclose shards and squiggles, as if hiding a deep hurt within. The drawings seem to signify how women try to keep their pain inside, while keeping a bubbly facade.Ashna Lama herself is a chirpy 21-year-old who laughs a lot, makes self-deprecating jokes in her singsong voice. Few can tell that this cheery face masks a difficult struggle with anxiety attacks and depression.Lama grew up in an artistic family with the smell of acrylic and turpentine. She sketched from a young age, expressing her sadness in art. The current series ‘The Fragility of Anxiety’ was drawn in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/its-all-in-the-mind/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2015 after the earthquake when she had panic attacks</a>, and was put on medication.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/its-all-in-the-mind/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">It's all in the mind</a>, Sonia Awale“I was traumatised, I didn’t speak to anyone for four days. There were a lot of thoughts running through my mind,” recalls Lama. “Then I turned to my sketchbook and started drawing, and these figures just flowed. When I concentrated on sketching I didn’t think of anything else, and the focus calmed me down.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714114/636902b49c7e80680e037c7cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="572" height="1024"/><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714114/636902b69c7e80680e037c7djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="575" height="1024">Three years later, Ashna is ready to exhibit the sketches alongside her own poetry at the one-day exhibition at Hotel Annapurna on August 12. Lama says the black pages of the notebook spoke to her, and resonated with her art. She describes her <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/all-in-mind/the-silent-scream-depression-is-common-but-only-few-get-treatment,588" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bouts of depression</a> as “spiraling into blackness”.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=10636&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">All in the family</a> , Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-art-of-healing/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Art has historical association with mental health</a>. Frieda Kahlo painted self portraits to deal with debilitating injuries, Monet was highly anxious, Picasso was said to be schizophrenic, and Van Gogh depressed and bi-polar. Lama says her art is also a reflection of her inner turmoil.“When the pressure cooker is about to burst and the whistle goes off, the steam is art. If it is too much to handle, I draw," says Lama, adding it was not easy to decide to share her work and open up about her deepest emotions. But she decided to go for it to spread awareness of mental health in Nepal, and break the taboos.Lama found out she was getting too dependent on medication. Once, having lost her pills she started banging her head on walls, hoping she would pass out. The drawings have helped her get off medication, and she says many others with mental health issues may also need an outlet for expression.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=10647&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Raising children can be a therapy</a>, Ketan Dulal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714114/636902b99c7e80680e037c7ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1381"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After she came out to talk publicly about her affliction, Lama found many opened up too. They were lonely, and felt as if they were the only ones suffering. It helped to share.“Mental health is so little understood in Nepal. There is so much stigma, and I want to generate some discussion through this exhibition. It is for people who appreciate the effort it takes to bare your innermost soul to an outsider,” says Lama.Once a science student and a part-time model, she decided to take a clean break and enrolled in an art school in Florence. She says formally studying art in the city of Michelangelo, Botticelli, Raphael, and Dante gave more definition to her form of expression. She also paints commissioned work where she digresses from signature black to dabble in rainbow hues.The future? Lama wants to return to Nepal and learn thangka painting: “I want to sweat it out, grinding gemstones to make colours, using the techniques to make my own kind of art.”It would be a homecoming for Ashna Lama, shedding black for the vividness of life in her own country.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=10641&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Addicted to the joystick</a>, Suprasanna AryalThe Fragility of AnxietyHotel Annapurna 12 August, 4:30-6:30PM<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714114/636902bc9c7e80680e037c7fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="917"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714114/636902bf9c7e80680e037c80jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="921">

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Ashna comes out of the black

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>