<figure><img width="800" height="472" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5539c7e80680e0966fejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Silgadi, Doti in the 1960s. Photo: ROUNDS IMAGING SERVICE</figcaption></figure>Sixty years ago, I arrived at Kolmuda of Kailali district as part of a 14-member team to help conduct the sixth decennial national census in far-western Nepal. It was March 1961, and in those days because of the lack of roads, we had to travel across India to get from one part of Nepal to another. The first part of our journey was on the Tribhuvan Highway from Kathmandu to the Indian border. But the newly-built road was blocked by a landslide, and our bus swapped passengers with another bus going to Kathmandu. From Dhangadi in the Tarai, we walked up rough trails to Doti, Bajhang, Achham, Bajura and Dadeldhura. Fellow travellers were traders selling ghee and buying salt, spices, and clothes. Far-western Nepal is remote even today, but back then it was at the edge of nowhere. There were no lodges or tea houses along the trail, and we often had to camp in the forests and cook food in the clearings. In the Tarai, the jungles were teeming with wildlife and we could hear tigers roaring by night. We lit fires to keep predators away.After King Mahendra dissolved Parliament and established the Panchayat system in December 1960, former MPs were deployed in different roles across the country. Many of them were appointed to serve as governors -- a strategic move by the king to further weaken the party system. But governorship was still a powerful position, so much so that of the only two concrete buildings in Dhangadi in 1961, one was the home of the governor, and the other was the prison.Silgadi in Doti was still what it looks like today: a ridge-top town with cobblestone streets and traditional houses with slate roofs. Because it had some Newar settlers from Kathmandu Valley, Silgadi had neighbourhoods named Asan and Indrachok.We set up our census headquarters near the market, next to the prison, in a house we rented for four months. Then, the census work began. Enumerators would leave for their designated areas with data forms and documents. Officer Dharmanath Gajurel, my wife Sushila, and I stayed back at the census office.Sushila had accompanied me as a representative of the Everest Dialogue Committee which conducted interviews with governors and sent them back to Kathmandu where they would be published in newspapers, or broadcast via Radio Nepal. The governors I met were happy with me because other governors did not get as much media coverage as they did. <img width="400" height="463" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5559c7e80680e0966ffjpeg.jpg" alt="">We then walked to Dadeldhura and Baitadi to conduct the census with two assistants in tow. I met with Governor Devendra Bahadur Tumbahamphe of Dadeldhura and Governor Satyanarayana Jha of Baitadi and then crossed over to India to get to Darchula, and later Bajhang via Pithoragarh in India. In Bajhang, we met the headmaster of Satyavadi High School, who like many teachers across Nepal at the time, was Indian. We even reached the farthest point you could go from Kathmandu in those days: the villages of Gunji, Nabi and Kuti in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/politics-and-history-of-nepals-kalapani-claim/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">disputed Kalapani and Limpiyadhura territory</a>. The fact that the government of Nepal had actually conducted a census there in 1961 has been cited as irrefutable proof that the territory east of the main channel of the Kali River has always been a part of Nepal.It took us another 15 days to return to Silgadi via Thalara and Khaptad. We also observed the census in southern Doti, which was going smoothly. I am 96 now, but then as a young man, I had no problem walking up and down those rugged and remote mountains.Sixty years ago, as now, far-western Nepal was far behind the rest of the country. There were few educated people, and health and nutrition levels were dismal. If we saw any white houses with tin roofs, we understood them to be schools.Teachers from around the villages were deployed as enumerators during the census, but there were not enough schools in the region so recruiting data collectors was a challenge in itself.Enumerators collected data through household and individual questionnaires and earned four paisa for each person whose particulars they collected. However, it was difficult to find enumerators we could rely on. Some would consider four paisa too little to bother going after every individual, while others would over-count and exaggerate the figures to earn more money. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11605" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">My position</a> was equivalent to that of a branch officer, whose salary was Rs225, as I walked across far-western Nepal for the 1961 census.Bhairav Risal, 96, is a veteran journalist and environmental activist.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/everybody-counts-in-nepal/">Everybody counts in Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki

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Remembering the 1961 census

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd92a9c7e80680e092e85jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="835"/><figcaption>The new bridge over the Mahakali River currently under construction will join Far West Nepal with the North Indian status of Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Punjab, Haryana and New Delhi.</figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-two-disasters-in-west-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">far-west has been neglected</a> by the rest of Nepal for centuries, but it is brimming with potential for socio-economic transformation.The reason it has always been seen as a periphery by Kathmandu has been its remoteness. It is a five hour drive to New Delhi from Dhangadi, but it takes at least 12 hours to get to Kathmandu.The devolution of political power under Nepal’s federal Constitution, and new connectivity are rapidly changing the face of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/book-review/review-nepal-wild-west,486" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Far-Western Province</a> and opened up possibilities for the province to not just catch up with the rest of the country, but even overtake it.The region is filled with natural and human resources. Federalism has enabled local municipalities and provincial government of these nine district to use their own resources for self-determined development priorities.A new bridge over the Mahakali River is under construction and will soon replace the old single lane Tanakpur Barrage as the economic lifeline for the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Far-Western Province</a> by joining it with the north Indian states of Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Punjab, Haryana and New Delhi. There is a new dry port under construction.The bridge will not just help transform far-west Nepal, but the rest of the country as well when it is finished in two years. Perhaps then, this region cannot be referred to as ‘backward’ or ‘under-developed’ anymore.“In terms of connectivity, this bridge will be a game-changer,” journalist Surendra Phuyal tells the Saglo Samajtv magazine. He points to how the inauguration of the Karnali Bridge also similarly joined the far-west to the rest of the Nepal 27 years ago. Before that, people from far-western Nepal had to travel through India to go to other parts of Nepal.https://youtu.be/UC-Al3hwthUWhile the Karnali Bridge immediately brought the far-west closer to the rest of Nepal, the new Mahakali Bridge will bring the increasingly affluent industrial and agricultural regions of north India closer to Nepal, allowing the easier flow of people and trade.This means Nepal will now be much more accessible to the 200 million people in India who live within a 5 hour driving distance from Dhangadi or Mahendranagar. Many of them are young Indians looking for new <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-the-road-in-west-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">unspoilt destinations</a> to go on holidays or pilgrimage. Many are tired of the overcrowded hill stations of Nanital, Ranikhet, Mussourie in India.Better connectivity can therefore have an immediate impact on tourism if the facilities and infrastructure on the Nepal side can be improved. This in turn, will bring tourism income to the rural far-west reducing the push-factor driving its people to migrate out.Many of the destinations in the far-west and adjacent Karnali are pristine wilderness areas: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/The-Holy-Link,3153" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Khaptad</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/raras-rare-beauty/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rara</a> National Parks, Badimalika, Api Saipal Conservation Area. These are all scenic unspoilt wilderness areas with their own religious significance that can be a draw for Indian as well as domestic Nepali tourists.In addition, there are the Sukla Phanta Wildlife Reserve and the Bardia and Banke National Park in Karnali Province. Says nature guide Kum Thakur at Sukla Phanta: “This area is famous the world over for the Barasingheswamp deer, tiger, rhino and rich birdlife. Despite Sukla Phanta’s smaller size compared to other national parks in Nepal, the reserve’s mix of wetland, jungle and vast grasslands give it a higher density of wildlife.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd92d9c7e80680e092e86jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1618" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>North India’s most prosperous areas near Delhi is within a few hours driving distance. Can benefit from tourism from these areas. Increasingly affluent. They are looking for new unspoint destinations. “Chalo Sudur Paschim Pradesh”.Bed Upreti, an airline captain with Air India, who has set up the Mahendranagar Museum says:  “I see huge untapped potential for tourism if the far-west is promoted adequately as a destination. For this, we have to reduce the distance by improving connectivity to the destinations like Khaptad. Whenever I fly over Far-Western Nepal I feel like it is a gold mine for tourism.”Meanwhile, federalism has brought new hope that the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18055#.YFlzKy2B0b0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Far-Western Province</a> can benefit from devolution, and not have to depend on faraway Kathmandu for everything.“We used to have to go to Kathmandu for the movement, now with the province, we can solve our own problems,” says Yagyaraj Chaudhari, a Tharu social activist.Chaudhari says there is residual tension in Far-Western Province between the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">indigenous Tharu community</a> of the plains and the mountain settlers. It goes back to the history of trans-location of villagers from the mountain districts to the Tarai during the reign of King Mahendra in the 1960s. This has been exacerbated by instance of violence like the massacre of policemen in Tikapur six years ago, and the continued imprisonment of Tharu leader and MP, Resham Chaudhari.“There is simmering anger among the Tharu because of this, and it is also fed by their under-representation in proportion to the population in government jobs,” says Chaudhari. “Inclusion will address the discrimination, but also help uplift living standards of the Tharu people. Road are important, but even more important is affordable health care and education for our people.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd9309c7e80680e092e87jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With Province 2, the Far-West is possibly the only other province with a distinct identity. For the people of this far-flung region that identity stems from the common sense of neglect by the rest of the country.“What unites the people of Far-Western Province both in the mountains and the plains is that there has been no development here,” says businessman and media entrepreneur Gopal Hamal. “It is our economic weakness that united us, it fostered a sense of solidarity.”He says the priority is to address the i<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/displacement-and-defiance/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">njustice that the Tharu have suffered</a> and to address their grievances. He says, “Earlier, it was the settlers from the mountains who mistreated the Tharu, and took their land. Now, despite the Constitution, it is the state that is the oppressor. We have to solve this before it takes a explosive turn.”Although this is not the kind of ethnic identity that the <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/mr-province-2/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwjk-qyvz8XvAhV3umMGHU1gDaMQFjABegQIBxAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw3E_Or9W8x0qHg_9ezNado2" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Madhesi community of Province 2</a> feel, the people of the Far-West feel they share the feeling of being abandoned by the central government for so long.Says Hemraj Panta, who was chief of Kailali Campus and a rector at Sudur Paschim University: “Culturally, the Khas identity and the Tharu identity in the plains give us a distinctness, but perhaps the Far-West has more of a cohesiveness compared to other provinces.”Most interviewees in Mahendranagar and Dhangadi agree that domestic tourism and visitors from India can be a catalyst for economic growth for the Far-Western Province. Just as the neighbouring Indian state of Uttarakhand has the Char Dham Yatra pilgrimage tourism, the province can also promote its shrines and pilgrimage spots that are common to Hindus in Nepal and India.One attraction could be sight-seeing flights from Dhangadi airport for Indian tourists to see <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/faith-to-reality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mansarovar and Mt Kailash</a> from the air, or even Dhaulagiri, Annapurna and Mt Everest.“If one local government promotes one destination, one district identifies one attraction, and the province promotes itself as Sundar Sudur Paschim, we can lift the rural economy,” says Hamal. “The youth will then have jobs and this will reverse outmigration.”

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The sun rises in Nepal’s Far West

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71e69c7e80680e0600f7jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>25-year-old Batu Chadara, from Dandabasa village, Pandusen was nine months pregnant and was going to return a rooster she had borrowed. Photos: Rojita Adhikari</figcaption></figure>Recently four new mothers lost their lives in Bajura district in remote in Far-Western Nepal. All of them died at local health facilities.Rejiya Nepali, 31, was one of them. A mother of four little children from Chhatara village, she died at its health post on 2 November after five hours in labour to give birth to a baby boy.As she went into labour, Rejiya was taken to the nearest health post by her husband and relatives, a 25-minute walk from her home the previous day at 11 pm. There was no one at the heath post, so Rejiya was taken to the house of an Auxiliary Nurse Midwife (ANM). In that one hour, Rejiya gave birth in a stretcher and died on it.Although Nepal has made vast improvements in maternal health with the mortality rate dropping from 539 per 100,000 live births 25 years ago to 230 today, tragic stories like that of Rejiya are still common. An estimated 2,000 new mothers still die in Nepal every year  -- most of them because health posts are not properly equipped and staffed.According to the target set by the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals, Nepal’s maternal mortality rate (MMR) should drop further to 70 per 100,000 in the next ten years. Nepal has already failed to meet the interim target of reducing MMR to 125 by this year.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-far-from-hitting-contraceptive-target/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal far from hitting contraceptive target</a>, Sewa Bhattarai <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71e99c7e80680e0600f8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Rejiya’s 80-year-old mother in law, Deuma Nepali, is now taking care of her four children aged six, four, two and the two month old baby. She says: “I am old, I cannot see properly and cannot cook. My son has been drinking a lot since he lost his wife. We have no milk for the baby.”In Gotri village of Bajura, another new mother Pulti Rawal lost her life within a few hours of giving birth. A 32-year-old mother of four also gave birth to a baby girl on the way to the local health post.“This pregnancy was not like earlier ones, my wife was in pain and was weak. After she went to the health post, I thought she would be fine,” recalls husband Ambre Rawal.Bajura District Hospital in Martadi recorded two maternal deaths within a month: 21-year-old Basanti Nepali from Jhilli village and Nirmala Bohora, 35, from Pandusain.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/implant-service-providers-take-contraception-to-nepals-poor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Implant service providers take contraception to Nepal’s poor</a>, Rojita Adhikari <figure><img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71ec9c7e80680e0600f9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Basanti died an hour after a caesarian delivery, and her husband Krishna blames the hospital. “I was in Kuwait when I heard my wife and baby died. I could not get leave, so I quit my job and bought my own ticket to fly home,” he says.Rupchandra Biswokarma, the physician in charge of Bajura District Hospital said Basanti could have been saved if the facility had an Intensive Care Unit and an ultrasound machine. The hospital carried out 300 deliveries last year, with 15 caesarians.  “Most mothers brought here are in their last stages,” says Biswokarma, “First, they try to give birth at home, if they cannot they go to the nearest health post, and are referred to us. Forget about a well-equipped maternal ward, and ICU or a gynaecologist, we don’t even have a skilled birth attendant or trained doctor here. Actually, God is saving new mothers here, not us”Pandusain Health Post is a busy place, delivering up to 15 babies a month. It has neither an ultrasound machine not a skilled birth attendant for ante-natal checkups.Basanti Bohora, 29, a new mother with a one month old baby, had experienced terrible labour pain. She first went to Pandusain Health Post but the health worker asked them to go to the district hospital which is 4 hours drive away on a very bad road. The Nurse there told them to go to Bayalpata Hospital in Accham that is run by the non-profit Nyaya Health.“All along the way I thought I would die, it is a miracle that both me and the baby are alive today,” she says, playing with her baby boy.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/federalism-leaves-nepals-medical-sector-ailing/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Federalism leaves Nepal's medical sector ailing</a>, Sewa BhattaraiEven after a childbirth, many new mothers and their children in lack of proper diet suffer from complications. 25-year-old Batu Chadara, from Dandabasa village, Pandusen was nine months pregnant and was going to return a rooster she had borrowed to impregnate a hen she had at her house. It is to be the main source of nutrition for her and her baby after the delivery. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101124/636b71ef9c7e80680e0600fajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There are many women in rural Bajura who know their pregnancy is complicated but are forced to go through with the delivery. Like Lali Nepali, 26, who is now six months pregnant and in pain, and was told to deliver in Byalpata or Dhangadi.“But I cannot afford it, so what happens will happen,” she says.  This is not just the story of one woman, one village and one district. It is happening across Far-western Nepal, says Bikash Guachan, Healthcare Director of Balyapata Hospital which delivers 90 babies every month from Achham, Doti, Bajura and Dailekh districts. Most of them are referral cases from local health posts.  “If the case is seriously complicated we cannot even treat it here as we do not have a blood bank and ICU,” says Gauchan. “The main problem is that most mothers do not go through proper checkups, like ultrasound exams.”Many foetus also shows signs of anencephaly caused by the lack of adequate nutrition and frequent births. Many women suffer life-threatening obstructed labour.“Doctors and nurses call me when they find ruptured uteruses in district hospitals and I have just run there many times because otherwise the woman would have surely died,” says Gauchan. The Nepal government is about to finalise a 10-year roadmap to reduce maternal deaths and meet the SDG target with a focus on home visit delivery. “The health worker will visit the home to see the pregnant woman and follow their conditions,” explains Punya Poudel at the Family Welfare Division of the Department of Health Services.However, former Health Secretary Kiran Regmi argues that until health posts around villages can provide full antenatal checkup facilities, it will be difficult to reach the 2030 target. He says ultrasound scans and antenatal tests would save many lives of mothers who now have to rely on miracles.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/people-politics-placentas-child-delivery-complications,3922" target="_blank" rel="noopener">People, politics and placentas</a>, Bikash Gauchan

Who will save Nepal’s poor new mothers?

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a412a9c7e80680e04a660jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="698"/><figcaption>Dharma Budha</figcaption></figure>Dharma Budha of Wai village of Bajura district gave birth to a baby three weeks ago inside a cowshed. She will stay in the dark, windowless outhouse with the cattle for another week.Her neighbour Surindra Kathayat was taken to a health post when she went into labour, but after she gave birth was banished to a cowshed with her baby."There are 300 families living in Wai. Five women gave birth this month, and all five are living in cowsheds with their cattle," says village leader Jandevi Budha, without much indication that she thinks this is unsafe for mothers and newborns.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Superstition-result-in-maternal-mortality-in-western-Nepal,3402" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The gods will be angry</a>, Mina Sharma and Prakash Singh<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a412d9c7e80680e04a661jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="504"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nandasara Sarki of nearby Bandhu village gave birth to her fifth child, and like all the other babies this one was also delivered in an outhouse. Two of her earlier babies died due to the cold and damp within a week of being born.Sarki's husband thinks the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Superstition-result-in-maternal-mortality-in-western-Nepal,3402" target="_blank" rel="noopener">gods will be angry</a> if a mother is allowed into the house with her newborn baby – a superstition that is entrenched throughout conservative northeastern Bajura, where female literacy is low and there are few health facilities.Female Community Health Volunteer (FCHV) Chandrakala Budha says such banishment is the cause of most postnatal and even maternal mortality death, with babies dying of exposure and infections. Staff nurse Mandevi Jaisi at Bajura District Hospital says most mothers end up with health problems like uterus issues, anaemia, night blindness and infections in the mouth and tongue.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Uprety<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a412f9c7e80680e04a662jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2004" height="1046"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Dhan Bahadur Fadera, the health assistant at Rugin Health Post, says that the plight of women in Humla, Mugu, Jumla, Kalikot and Dolpa districts of northwestern Nepal is the same. "I estimate that 80% of the women here deliver their babies in cowsheds, which is why the infant and maternal mortality rates have not gone down like in the rest of the country,” says Fadera, who has worked all over  Karnali Province.Chinkala Chadara of Hyanglu village of Mugu delivered her baby in her cowshed this month despite living next door to a health post. "We do not go to health posts; none of the women I know are taken there," she says simply. Even if the mothers deliver in a health facility, they have to go to the shed when they come home with the baby."We tell them that it is not right to stay in cowsheds, but they don't listen to us," says Chiranjivi Shahi, head of Swamikartik Khapar Rural Municipality.Read also: P<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/period-of-banishment,3529" target="_blank" rel="noopener">eriods of banishment</a>, Subeksha Poudel<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41349c7e80680e04a663jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1843" height="1262">Most women believe the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">superstition</a> that they are impure after menstruation or childbirth, and prefer not to bring down the wrath of the gods on their families. Dhanrupa Jaisi of Maila village of Humla says the rules are very strict: no nutritious milk or meat, no comforts no touching the public tap. But there is no taboo on working in the fields, so the new mothers are also overworked. By the time they leave the shed after a month, both mother and baby are malnourished, or have infections.In Dhim village of Bajura, Rela Rokaya's newborn baby passed away in a shed this month. Dudhari Dhami of Maila village has given birth to three children, two of whom died in the cowshed. District Health Office records show that there were about 20 infant deaths in Bajura in the past year, most of them in cowsheds within 28 days of birth. Health Assistant Yadav believes the number is vastly underestimated, since many deaths are unreported.I am text block. Click edit button to change this text. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

The curse of being new mothers

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezfdhBKEtsEGrowing up in Chitwan, Radha Paudel’s father used to tell her stories of faraway Jumla: how it took weeks to walk there, the cold snowy winters, the Tila River on the banks of which were the world’s highest paddy fields. She was fascinated.Paudel became a nurse and, as luck would have it, was posted to Jumla with a safe motherhood program. The maternal mortality rate in the Karnali at the time was at sub-Saharan levels. The strict patriarchy made it an epicentre for neglected reproductive health problems among women.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21465&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Upreti<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21434&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">That time of the month</a>, EditorialNepal’s armed conflict with the Maoists was at its peak, and Jumla suffered several rebel raids. Paudel witnessed the fierce one in Jumla in 2002 in which hundreds, including the CDO, DSP and civilians were killed. She survived by hiding under a bed all night as gunfire and bombs were going off outside.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a269e9c7e80680e043a26jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>CODE RED: Nurse turned writer turned activist Radha Paudel discusses dignified mentruation at her work place in Kathmandu this week. Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>“It was terrifying, I fainted. Then I asked myself what drove them to take up the gun. I found the answer: the class, caste and gender discrimination in the region,” Paudel recalls.She wrote a book, Khalangama Hamala (The Attack on Khalanga) that described not just the night of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4589#.XGFoddIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">battle</a> but the harsh condition of life for the people of Jumla. The book was awarded the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Nurse-book-wins-Madan-Prize,1670" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Madan Puraskar</a> in 2013 and brought the plight of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3046#.XGFpl9Iza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karnali</a> to national attention.After a career as nurse and writer, Paudel is now a full-time activist trying to address practices like menstruation restriction on women, which symbolise entrenched gender inequality not just in Jumla, but all over Nepal.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a19c7e80680e043a27jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1422" height="888"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Paudel is back with a second book Pavitra Ragat (Pure Blood), and like her first one this book also deals with blood-letting — only this time it is about the discrimination and taboos women have to face during their periods.The story began in Paudel’s own childhood, and she writes about how her mother and sisters were made to stay away from the kitchen and temples during menstruation. She had seen girls who menstruated for the first time isolated for three weeks, so when it was her turn Radha ran away from home to her sister’s place.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a49c7e80680e043a28jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The book is searing in its honesty, and the practical difficulties Nepali women face during <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/That-time-of-the-month,3098" target="_blank" rel="noopener">adolescence</a>: not finding enough rags to soak up the blood, always worrying if the blood is leaking through clothes, and asking classmates in school if her skirt is stained, not drinking water so that she didn’t have to go to toilet and risk losing her rag…As a nurse, Paudel conducted research on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/bloody-period/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">menstrual practices</a> and found that many rural women in Nepal did not even know about panties and pads, they bled freely all day, and in many households women took turns to use the same rags. The book is graphic, and not for the faint-hearted reader as it describes the monthly reality for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/why-is-female-sexuality-still-a-taboo-in-Nepal,2908" target="_blank" rel="noopener">many Nepali women</a>.When Paudel got her first job, she proudly bought herself proper panties and new, clean cloth to use during menstruation. But, she realised the situation had not changed for many of her fellow-women in Jumla.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha PoudelToday, Poudel is not just spreading awareness but manufacturing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">biodegradable sanitary pads</a> at a factory in Chitwan, and training young women about how to use these washable pads that do not leak.Paudel explains why it is important de-glamourise modern sanitary napkins: they are made of synthetic materials and take up to 1,000 years to degrade. Much of the plastic waste dumped by the trails in Nepal are made of discarded sanitary pads.Besides making an environmental statement, Paudel also wants to promote dignified menstruation and remove the taboo surrounding menstrual ostracisation, the practice of chhaupadi in which women in western Nepal are banished to the cow shed once a month.“Menstrual isolation is a human right violation, it isolates women by barring them from kitchens, water sources, temples, schools, and homes,” says Paudel. “This means women are treated like second class citizens, or not even human.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a89c7e80680e043a29jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="753">Paudel is determined to also change the image of Karnali as being a backward, illiterate and primitive region. For instance, Nepal’s 2018 Criminal Code prohibits the practice of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/period-of-banishment,3529" target="_blank" rel="noopener">banishing</a> women to chhaupadi huts during menstruation or childbirth, but does not address more general menstrual restrictions practiced all over Nepal. Limiting the crime of isolating women to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/blood-sisters-menstruation,839" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chhaupadi</a> unfairly points the finger at only western Nepal.Women dying of suffocation or snake bites in menstrual sheds make headlines, but not the everyday humiliation women everywhere are subjected to. Paudel says the ceremonial demolition of chhaupadi huts is misdirected. “Even if you replace the huts with a 5-star hotel, that is still discrimination,” she says.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Menstrual shaming</a> exists all over the world, not just in Nepal. Just this month, Unicode approved a droplet of blood as an emoji to symbolise menstruation. Plan International lobbied for the emoji because its poll found that nearly half the girls and women in the UK between 14-21 were embarrassed about their periods.Across the world, women use code words when they refer to their periods, and Nepal is no different. Paudel lists some of them: chhui, chhau, nachhune, para sarne, all describing the isolation and stigma women face.Radha Paudel now wants to go beyond physical aspects of menstrual ostracisation to psycho-social and religious beliefs that make many women themselves firm believers in the taboos. Part of the reason she wrote the book is to demystify menstruation so that students, families, men and women can <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Girl-talk-period,2377">talk about it openly</a>.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pad Power</a>, Ziyu Lin<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/stereotyping-women-as-victims/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stereotyping women as victims</a>, Radha Adhikari and Jeevan Sharma

Communicating to remove menstrual taboo

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26849c7e80680e043a1djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="902"/><figcaption>DEFYING TRADITION: This cow shed in Kailali used for menstural banishment. It has now been turned into a store room for rice husk.</figcaption></figure>Media reports of the practice of chhaupadi are full of harrowing tales of suffering, and women dying of cold or suffocation during their monthly exile to the cowshed.A recent trip across eight districts in Nepal’s Far West revealed a critical mass of women who are defying the practice and overcoming the superstitions that perpetuate it. Each of the women have a different reason for shunning the shed, but together they are breaking an entrenched taboo that has come to epitomise gender discrimination in Nepal.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Communicating to remote menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21434&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">That time of the month</a>, EditorialIn Achham, a 23-year old girl bravely decided to stay at home, even though her mother goes to the shed. On occasions when they menstruate together, the daughter cooks food inside and takes it out for her mother. She says indignantly, “The municipality says there must be a toilet at home, but no one ever discusses that women must not be forced to live in cowsheds.”Nirmala BK, 30, is also from Achham and is an example of how a mother’s courage can help eliminate practices like chhaupadi. Since she was not allowed to cook during her periods, Nirmala’s children would walk through town carrying flour, and beg people to cook roti for them. After seeing how miserable they were, the mother resolved to stay home and cook during menstruation.Some women have supportive husbands who empowered them to break the taboo. In Bajhang one woman said her husband pressured her mother-in-law to be allowed to stay indoor during her periods. “My mother-in-law still tries to find out whether I am menstruating or not, but I just tell her a white lie that I took a medicine to stop the bleeding,” she added.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26889c7e80680e043a1ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1057"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a268a9c7e80680e043a1fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1044">Ramaroshni Giri stays at home during menstruation for safety reasons, but has gone one step further to break the taboo about milking livestock during her periods. “If I don’t do it, the cows will not give milk, and besides, none of the cows have died,” Giri says.A teenage girl in Achham kept her monthly cycle a secret because her mother threatened to kick her out of the house if she stayed indoors.One day, coming home from school the girl was shocked to see that her younger siblings had gone hungry all day because their mother was in the shed. She flew into a rage against her mother: “Does our religion say the children have to go hungry?” After that outburst, the mother now stays home and cooks even during her periods.There is superstition that the shaman will shiver if a menstruating woman touches him. So, 35-year-old Gangadevi Bista from Doti decided to test that. Feigning an illness, Bista showed her hand to a dhami during her periods, but not a shiver from him. She made sure the whole village found out about it.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a268d9c7e80680e043a20jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1149"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26909c7e80680e043a21jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="778"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A restaurant owner in Achham has abandoned chhaupadi , saying her business would collapse if she banished herself to a shed every month. “The elders, dhami and jhankri have all eaten the food I cooked even during my periods, none of them fell sick,” she says.A Dalit woman almost lost her baby son while she was in the shed in winter. She fell asleep with her eight-month-old in the shed and they were both nearly killed by a fire. She has not gone back to the shed after that.Many equate chhaupadi with poverty, but it is a product of a deep-seated patriarchy. In spite of positive changes, the practice continues and the pain of many women proves that raising awareness alone is not enough. Chhaupadi has already been criminalised by law, and needs to be strictly enforced.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nation-holding-up-half-the-district,489" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Holding up half the district</a>, Kunda Dixit<h2>Vending machine for pads</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26939c7e80680e043a22jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="831"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Students at the Gyanodaya High School in Kathmandu do not have to worry about getting their periods while in class, forgetting to bring sanitary pads, or even skipping school for a few days every month. The school has installed a vending machine for its 1,300 female students and 75 female staff which will provide a napkin after dropping a Rs 1 coin, but the users have to pay Rs 5 to the school for the added cost.The students in Grade 6 or 7 who get their periods for the first time, often while in school, are the ones who are going to benefit the most from the vending machine, the first sanitary pad vending machine in Nepal, and Gyanodaya has established itself as a menstruation-friendly school.The school, whose students achieve one of the highest pass rates in SEE exams in the country, expects the girl students to do much better in class now that they don't have to worry about their periods so much."We used to face hassles when we would forget to bring pads, and it was troublesome to borrow from classmates, we used to have to leave school and go home," now we don't have to worry about it anymore," says Ganga Sapkota, a student.Principal Natikaji Maharjan, who also teaches science at the schoool, says the curriculum places a priority on studying reproductive health so as to remove the taboos and superstition surrounding menstruation.He says this is a pilot project, and the school hopes to set aside a budget for free distribution of the pads from next year. “It will help in spreading awareness about mestruation as being a natural biological process,” he says.From the Nepali PressShanti Tamang in Setopati.com, 14 Feburary<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://setopati.com/social/175077?fbclid=IwAR0wvMka4BR4PCNJVDc8vJn3GdI3e_4hKTzJW-Eqa_TsJYx6LH3LVjYNn1E" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Full story</a> in Nepali here.

Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26669c7e80680e043a12jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1099"/><figcaption>Illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>The practice of chhaupadi in which women in western Nepal are banished to cow sheds during their periods grabs a lot of media attention within Nepal and internationally, eclipsing the much more widespread and entrenched menstrual restrictions in the rest of Nepal.As cruel and inhumane as chhaupadi is, journalistic coverage as usual tends to be event-focused, headlining only deaths due to suffocation, snakebites or exposure. There is little context to explain that the practice is now much less widespread as literacy improves, and after it was outlawed.As public health specialist Aruna Uprety <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">reports from Accham in this issue</a>, young women and mothers across western Nepal are now defying this superstition. But that is not ‘newsy’ enough for the international media.To be sure, it is a travesty that young women are still dying because they are forced to fend for themselves in the flimsy huts, where some fall prey to the cold, infections, wild animals, or rapists. Chhaupadi is cruel and an egregious violation of the human rights of women, perpetuated by conservative societal norms.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21465&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Upreti<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21456&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Communicating to remove menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa BhattaraiBut while women in western Nepal are cast out to spend four days every month in sheds, in other parts of Nepal they are confined to isolation in separate rooms. They are not allowed to cook or eat in the kitchen, cannot touch taps, and are supposed to keep off places of worship. These are not poor and illiterate women in rural Nepal, but college graduates, upper and middle class urban women in Kathmandu, and even the Nepali diaspora.Many women believe the superstition about menstrual ostracisation and willingly follow the practice, thinking crops will wither, livestock will die, cows will not give milk, or that their fathers and brothers will die if they ‘pollute’ them during their periods. Festivals like Rishi Panchami reinforce these beliefs, where women apologise for all the ‘sins’ they many have committed, even unintentionally, during menstruation.Women are also excluded from festivals and auspicious occasions, forced to find distant water sources for washing, and left out of schools and work. More damaging is the emotional toll: women feel humiliated and dehumanised as they grow up feeling powerless from a young age.Writer and menstruation activist <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Radha Paudel in her new book</a> released this week, Apavitra Ragat (Impure Blood), argues that all menstrual restrictions are human rights violations, not just chhaupadi. She says the demolition of chhaupadi huts and the distribution of sanitary pads, while being important interventions, do not address the continuing isolation of women during their periods, and their feelings of inferiority that it perpetuates.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha PoudelPaudel suggests that the focus should be shifted to a more holistic advocacy where all members of society accept that menstruation is not impure. For that, communication and education are key, and the campaigns must include men, as well as school teachers, health workers, faith healers and community leaders.Positive stories also need more coverage because not everything about menstruation is regressive in Nepal. Over the years, increasing numbers of women have started questioning this tradition, and have proactively and collectively broken the taboo. Education has brought about dramatic change, spreading knowledge among students and their parents about the biological reasons for menstrual blood.The accounts of women who suffer in cow sheds are tragic, but much more compelling are the brave stories of those that have countered the practice in Nepal’s most conservative communities. They prove that reform is possible, and can be brought about by the combined strength of many ordinary women fighting for justice and rights for themselves and their children. They show that courageous progressive women exist in the same places where the taboo is strongest, and where those extreme cases of deaths and despair are reported.Ultimately, dignified menstruation for women all over Nepal should focus not just on hygiene and safety through sanitary pads and alternatives to chhaupadi huts, but on making sure that women are not shamed by menstruation and are free to participate in any activity, whether or not it is ‘that time of month’.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pad Power</a>, Ziyu Lin<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/stereotyping-women-as-victims/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stereotyping women as victims</a>, Radha Adhikari and Jeevan Sharma<h2>10 years ago this week</h2>Ten years ago this week, the<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15656#.XGZRbFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Ass’ Backside Column</a> in edition <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/438" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#4</a>38 of Nepali Times of 13-19 February 2008 was titled “Go back to sleep’. It was a spoof on the elected Maoist government honouring the PLA anniversary. Excerpt:Go back to sleep, we’ll wake you up when things start getting really exciting around here. As things stand now, nothing is really happening. Politicians are all up to their ears in party affairs, and no one has any time for the country. The southern plains and the eastern hills have been locked down now for weeks, but PM PKD has all the time in the world to helicopter over to Panchthar to attend his army’s anniversary. Defence Minister Cloudy was off in western Nepal attending a Tharu council. This whole week, the Baddie brass has been busy getting organised for the three-day gala war anniversary in Nawalparasi. All the UML members of the cabinet, including the Hydro Minister, will be out of action for another week because of the party convention in Butwal. And next week Nepal’s Other Army will be celebrating its own Army Day on Shivaratri.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/438"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26699c7e80680e043a13jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="511" height="814"></a>

That time of the month

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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