The 2015 earthquakes in Central Nepal that killed over 9,000 people had many lessons for us, most important of which was the need to be prepared for future disasters. After all, it was not a question of if there would be another quake, but when. And sure enough, it came with the 6.4 Jajarkot earthquake of 3 November. At least 160 people were killed outright, buried under the rubble of their fragile homes. Dozens more have died of cold and diseases since. After the 2015 disaster, there was a general consensus about putting safety measures into place: building seismic-resistant structures, retrofitting public buildings, and the need for emergency preparedness. Prior to this, there was no such understanding at the political level, within government or the public. Another big lesson learned was how a separate institution, independent from the regular government structure, can more effectively carry out reconstruction, post-disaster. Reconstruction was fraught with challenges, political interference being the foremost. But the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) coordinated effectively between internal and external assistance, and helped to carry out the process successfully. The NRA was also crucial in managing resources, setting guidelines, and developing a single goal-oriented approach that would incorporate everyone from the public to the Prime Minister. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/grief-stricken-survivors-are-cold-and-hungry">Grief-stricken survivors are cold and hungry</a>, Sagar Budathoki But we did more than rebuild the houses. What was achieved was technology transfer on a massive scale, including knowledge about safe building even for mud-mortar, stone and wooden structures. It also showed us how to make cash distribution transparent and take it directly to the people with zero-tolerance for corruption. We created a National Consultative Council for all the political parties to work together as well as the bureaucracy, private sector, and civil society. At the district level, a mechanism was put in place for MPs and representatives from all three levels to collaborate. There were vertical and horizontal links between all levels. The NRA was superseded by the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) in 2019 which has since put forward plans to make Nepal a disaster resilient country by 2030. Blueprints, frameworks and maps have been created for earthquake and flood preparedness and relief. They were submitted to the government, but it has been filed away with no action taken. As soon as the reconstruction work was complete, it seems we forgot about disaster preparedness. And so, when the Jajarkot earthquake struck, we were unprepared again. We cannot prevent or predict earthquakes, but we sure can prepare. Even so, all we seem to be capable of is to react after a disaster hits. More than 60,000 houses were partially or completely damaged in the Bajhang, Doti, and Jajarkot earthquakes that have struck in the past year. Most of the partially damaged houses have to be demolished. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state">In a disastrous state</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231124081136_7326ad8a1402b30c2a9698697e9922a4dc54d5ad84a5bc0dc1a68e3d2da66c3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231124081136_7326ad8a1402b30c2a9698697e9922a4dc54d5ad84a5bc0dc1a68e3d2da66c3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="1499" loading="lazy" alt="2023 Western Nepal earthquake NT"></figure>  The NDRRMA allocates Rs400,000 in subsidy for houses to be rebuilt in the mountains. This adds up to Rs24 billion, and if we add other expenses including technical assistance, technology transfer and others, the total comes to Rs30 billion. But if we had followed the preparedness plan, we could have retrofitted and made houses across Nepal safer at a lower cost. They could have withstood a moderate earthquake like the one in Jajarkot and the casualties would have been much lighter. What we had proposed was a safety steel rod in every mud-mortar house, retrofitting and Rs100,000 to the owner so that the structure is safe from earthquakes as well as water and fire disasters. In fact, 300,000 houses across the country could have been retrofitted with just Rs30 billion with the government providing the initial Rs100,000 in subsidy for people to reinforce their concrete homes. The World Bank was ready to invest $10 million to survey the state of houses across the country for retrofitting, but it never took off. Reconstruction of the structures damaged by the Jajarkot earthquake will now proceed. The good news is that after the 2015 earthquake, we now have experience and expertise in doing that. We also have local governments, unlike the last time. They will be at the frontlines of reconstruction and resettlement. NDRRMA can provide strategic guidelines, gather resources, coordinate and train human resources, monitor the reconstruction work carried out through the local and state levels, and give policy directions. This exercise in turn will capacitate all three structures of government, and in the long term, all three levels of the government will be better equipped to deal with disasters. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later">Rebuilding resilience 7 years later</a>, Anil Pokharel It is an opportunity to put our federal structure to good use, empower local leaders, resolve doubts about the system, coordinate the three levels of government and mobilise the support of the international community. Shelter is the topmost priority following any disaster, especially now that winter has set in on the western mountains. Survivors need relief materials including money for temporary housing. We need to identify beneficiaries, distribute grants by establishing a banking system, develop human resources and other frameworks. Only after that do we start reconstruction. Experts, government agencies and local representatives should coordinate with all levels of government to determine the role and share the work. Initiatives should be taken now in terms of raising resources. We have created a framework for dealing with disasters at the national level in the form of the Disaster Resilience Framework.Similarly, provinces and local levels should also create theirs. The framework has five elements: 1. Provide financial and technical support to make homes and schools safer through local governments. 2. Assess the damage and estimate the amount needed. 3. Put the Disaster Management Act into operation at all three levels of government. 4. Look at disaster insurance instead of just doling out money to people to rebuild. The government can pay the premium for the poorest families 5. Establish emergency centres with relief stockpiles at the federal, provincial and local levels. The Far West and Karnali provinces are underserved. Reconstruction, if done intelligently, is also an opportunity to uplift these areas economically. Disaster preparedness should be integrated into the education system so young Nepalis know that the country is disaster-prone and it is best to be prepared. Disasters do not kill people but poorly built structures do-- local levels should carry out risk assessment while developing land use plans. Most of all, what is needed now is the readiness to implement the blueprints, frameworks, experience and knowledge that we gleaned after 2015. Otherwise this tragedy will also be in vain. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-two-disasters-in-west-nepal"> Epicentre of two disasters in West Nepal</a>, Sonia Awale

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Learning from Jajarkot what we didn't after 2015

From his village in Bajura in western Nepal, the Indian border is much closer than Kathmandu, so that is where Manbir Sanjyal &nbsp;has been going to find work since he was much younger. &nbsp;&nbsp; India is referred to here as कालापहाड, beyond the black mountains. And hundreds of thousands of Nepalis, especially from western Nepal, have for many decades crossed over to work as apple pickers, porters, domestic help or security guards in India.&nbsp; Sanjyal worked in Kumaon, Garhwal, Delhi, Uttarakhand and Uttar Pradesh for years, and eventually he returned to Bajura. Kathmandu may be 800km away, but with better connectivity Sanjyal and many like him do not have to be migrant workers in India — they can be migrant workers in the capital. Sanjyal, now 59, moved to Kathmandu six months ago after farming in Bajura became insufficient to feed his family. He rented a farm in Panga at the western edge of the Valley and grows vegetables to sell in the market. He is doing so well, he plans to get into dairy farming as well. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/weaving-the-fabric-of-a-new-life">Weaving the fabric of a new life</a>, Sahina Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230722060748_e38f52fd434eebc0c25c2262b646bf3bbec8c3f837dbf132dfb798cb4db56d10.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230722060748_e38f52fd434eebc0c25c2262b646bf3bbec8c3f837dbf132dfb798cb4db56d10" data-rendition-name="original" width="700" height="500" loading="lazy" alt="Bajura"> </figure>  “When we were young we toiled in India, now our grandchildren can make a living growing food in our own country,” says Sanjyal, looking out from his greenhouse. “In addition, the grandchildren can get better education and health care here.” Sanjyal’s son Jeevan completed high school in Bajura, and wants to go to college in Kathmandu. Bajura ranks lowest among Nepal’s 77 districts in the human development index. Poverty and poor harvests are endemic in the district because of lack of state support for irrigation. This makes Karnali Province the most food deficit part of Nepal with one of the highest rates of stunting and wasting among children. &nbsp;&nbsp; News of Sanjyal’s success has reached his village in Bajura and inspired other families to also make a move to Kathmandu. Lali Prasad Pandey came to Kathmandu after hearing about his sister’s successful commercial vegetable farming business in Kirtipur. He had worked in Qatar for three years before returning home to Saunegaun in Bajura, where he attempted unsuccessfully to make a living farming.&nbsp; “I did make some money during my time overseas, but it was not enough to cover costs of healthcare or my children’s education,” he says. Pandey has been a vegetable farmer in Kirtipur for six years now, and his neighbours are also farmers from far-western districts like Bajura, Humla, Jumla, Kalikot, Mugu, and Rukum-West.&nbsp; Like Sanjyal, Pandey has set up greenhouses to grow seasonal vegetables and finds a ready market in Kathmandu, even though over the years the profit margin has fallen.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/mothers-of-sarlahi">Mothers of Sarlahi</a>, Marty Logan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230722030744_5aa5cc9d9f5f7b88eee46980d523617c9060d1fd268d4620f39acc7177f3e893.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230722030744_5aa5cc9d9f5f7b88eee46980d523617c9060d1fd268d4620f39acc7177f3e893" data-rendition-name="original" width="5002" height="3335" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu's little Bajura"> </figure>  So, Pandey recently bought four cows to diversify his business, and sells milk door-to-door at Rs100 per litre. The cows also provide fertiliser for his vegetable farming business.&nbsp; “Dairy farming is like having a salaried government job,” Pandey jokes, referring to the secure income it provides.&nbsp; But the extra work also means he and his wife have to work 24/7 on the farm, and there is no time to go home to Bajura. Coming to Kathmandu was a good move, and Pandey has been able to send his children to better schools, and he is happy he does not have to be separated from his family any more.&nbsp; Tilakhuni BK was Pandey’s neighbour in Bajura, and also came to Kathmandu hearing about the favourable business environment and schooling for the children. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/biodynamic-agripreneurs">Biodynamic agrepreneurs</a>, Sanjib Chaudhary <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FYgoOEmwX8HI&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> But Tilakhuni has not been as successful with her farm in Kirtipur. Her family invested Rs200,000 on the greenhouses and terraces, but then came the Covid lockdowns. She had to sell her cows, and her husband had to go to Saudi Arabia to supplement their income.&nbsp; Tilakhuni was bargaining with a customer on the phone, and when she hung up complained that she would do all right if she could deal directly with buyers more often. But the middlemen take away most of her margin. &nbsp; While Tilakhuni sells her greenhouse tomatoes at Rs15/kg, middlemen sell them to city wholesalers for Rs50. “We do all the work, but get none of the benefits, no matter how hard we work,” she says.&nbsp; Despite this, life in Kathmandu Valley is still better than in her village Bajura. She says, “I may not be earning as much as I expected, but I am happy with what I have. Whatever hardship we face here is nothing compared to the struggles we had in the village.” Tilakhuni’s priority is that the children get quality education in the city. Her brother, children, and nephew attend school in Kirtipur. Her eldest son has completed his SEE exam, and her daughter is currently in middle school.&nbsp; “The quality of education in the city is much better than that in the village,” says BK’s daughter Ramita. “We get an English medium education here and this improves our chances of going abroad in future.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/down-in-sherpa-s-farm">Down in Sherpa's farm</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230722030748_0114ba51ea101b8ca2ab64801df994f199d241e84f5dccc516a5d11ebadd7e30.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230722030748_0114ba51ea101b8ca2ab64801df994f199d241e84f5dccc516a5d11ebadd7e30" data-rendition-name="original" width="5002" height="3335" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu's little Bajura"> </figure>  Hearing about Tilakhuni’s work also convinced Deepa BK to move to Kirtipur four months ago. Deepa currently helps Tilakhuni on her farm but is actively thinking of leasing her own vegetable farm. &nbsp; “I came here so that my children do not have to suffer and grow up the way that I did,” says Deepa. “There is no future for the children back home.”&nbsp; Her husband currently works in India, and is now making preparations to move to Kathmandu. Health care is another reason the Bajura families all migrated to Kathmandu, and for a feeling of home, they all live near each other in Kirtipur and Panga.&nbsp; Tilakhuni BK and her husband were both unable to get medical treatment for their ailments in India, but found health care to be better and more accessible in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Manbir Sanjyal requires regular dialysis, but the facility is not available at the Bajura District Hospital in Martadi. So he moved to Kathmandu, but says the state is not fulfilling its responsibility to provide healthcare in rural areas. Lali Prasad Pandey agrees: “Hospitals in Bajura do not meet even basic needs. If the state had made these services available in our home district, we would not have had to move here.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/my-children-shouldnt-be-farmers">“My children shouldn't be farmers”</a>, Anita Bhetwal

Kathmandu’s Little Bajura

<figure><img width="1050" height="626" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110911110/636b7a779c7e80680e064761jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nepalis crossing the border into the country through the Gauriphanta checkpost in Dhangadi, Far Western Nepal. Photos: DINESH KHABAR</figcaption></figure>A week before Nepal declared a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-lockdown-extended-till-7-april/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">nationwide lockdown</a> to prevent imported COVID-19 cases, close to half a million Nepali migrant workers from India crossed the border into the country without any screening.  Another 1.5 million people left Kathmandu Valley for their home districts as the government announced that all long-distance buses would stop plying after 6AM on 17 March.Tens of thousands of Nepali workers driven out of their jobs in Indian cities are still trapped across the border in India – prevented from returning to their own country as the government tries to decide where to quarantine them.Darchula police records show that 128, 022 people entered Nepal before the border was sealed, there now hundreds camping out on the banks of the Mahakali River. Health desks at border checkpoints were equipped only with thermometers. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/enlisting-female-health-volunteers-to-fight-covid-19/">Enlisting female health volunteers to fight COVID-19</a>, Ramu Sapkota and Mukesh Pokhrel“It is easier to track people travelling by air, since they are fewer and the airport has the equipment for thermal screening,” says Sher Bahadur Pun, infectious disease specialist at the Sukraraj Tropical and Infectious Disease Hospital in Kathmandu. “Local governments should not waste any time to track down such individuals and place them under quarantine immediately.”But that is easier said than done. The Health Ministry has not even been able to carry out contact tracing of the four Nepalis who flew into Kathmandu from the Gulf and Europe in March who have tested positive for coronavirus. Local governments in rural Nepal have no record of people who have come home, and are just starting to collect information of recent returnees.  <img width="640" height="295" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110911110/636b7a799c7e80680e064762jpeg.jpg" alt="">“If anyone is infected here, it is going to be a disaster. All we have are thermometers,” says Padam Giri, mayor of the Budhinanda municipality in Bajura, one of the remotest districts in northwestern Nepal. Four individuals who returned to Sunchhahari from India recently have been placed in isolation. Of the 46 people who arrived in Bajura from Mahendranagar after the lockdown, 16 are currently in quarantine at the district headquarters in Martadi.Adds vice-chair of the Sunchhahari Rural Municipality in Rolpa Pabitra Gharti Magar: “So far no one has shown any symptoms, but if anyone did, we do not even have test kits.” The mountainous districts of western Nepal are considered to be the most vulnerable because every family has at least one worker in India who has now returned. It was also western Nepal which was worst hit in Nepal by the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1990s as migrant males brought the disease home and spread it to their wives.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-workers-overseas-toil-through-the-pandemic/">Nepali workers overseas toil through the pandemic</a>, Upasana KhadkaMahendra Bahadur Shah, chair of the Barekot Rural Municipality in Jajarkot admits that they failed to keep records of people returning from India because they did not initially take the pandemic seriously. Many migrant workers who entered Nepal though the Gaidachauki checkpoint before it was closed are from Bajhang, Doti, Baitadi and Dadeldhura districts.Historically neglected by the central government in Kathmandu, western Nepal has chronic suffered food shortages and epidemics. People from the region make up the highest number of returnees. Even though only one case of the novel coronavirus has been confirmed in the region and is in hospital in Dhangadi, public health experts say the virus is out there. <img width="640" height="372" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110911110/636b7a7b9c7e80680e064763jpeg.jpg" alt="">“Hundreds of thousands of people have returned to western Nepal from Maharastra, Delhi and Bihar, which are the hardest-hit COVID-19 states in India. The one case in Dhangadi is only the tip of the iceberg,” says Bikash Gauchan, medical director at Bayalpata Hospital in Achham.Bayalpata has set up a fever clinic, and 10 isolation beds have been added. The hospital has a stock of 20 precious personal protection equipment, and is producing masks locally for staff. Municipalities, district police offices and hospitals are all on red alert for a possible outbreak of COVID-19 in the region. Adds Gauchan: “We have a few ventilators in the entire western Nepal, and a limited stock of oxygen. We will not be able to do anything if the situation is to turn for worse, but if we contact traced and isolated possibly infected people we might be able to buy some time.” Back in Kathmandu, Sher Bahadur Pun at the Teku hospital says the returnees might have already had extensive interaction with their family members and hence need to be isolated and placed under home quarantine."Even if only one person is infected, who may or may not have a symptom, there is a high chance that the pandemic will spread across the village where there is a lack of reliable healthcare services and people are not aware that they need visit the doctor even if they have a slight fever,” Pun says.Among the general public, there is now a sense of panic, and migrant returnees are being stigmatised, turning villagers against each other. Even people who die of other causes are rumoured to have died of the coronavirus. Public health experts want greater public awareness, physical distancing and expanding the so far limited testing for COVID-19.Warns Pun: “If the coronavirus has entered the country unchecked through the border, then we could have a ticking time bomb in our hands.”

Returnees may be taking coronavirus to rural Nepal

From stone spouts to cast-iron mains, Nepal’s water system and its struggle to provide safe water tells a larger story of power, disease, dependency — and lessons for the future. From 1823 to 1891, the Nepali state made just two notable interventions in Kathmandu’s drinking water system. The first was when Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa commissioned a stone pout (hiti) to tap groundwater within the valley’s traditional supply system. The second came nearly 70 years later with Nepal’s first industrial-era water system, the Bir Water Works in 1891 under Prime Minister Bir Shumsher Rana. Linking these two milestones was the spectre of cholera. From the 19th century on there were seven global cholera pandemics. <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0264410X19309995#bb0325" target="_blank">Originating in Asia</a>, the disease reached Europe and the Americas, the Vibrio cholera bacillus breeding in poor sanitation wherever it found it. The first wave erupted in 1817, followed by others in 1829, 1852, 1863, 1881, 1889 and, finally, in 1961, the seventh pandemic which still lingers on. London, the epicentre of the Industrial Revolution, was repeatedly stricken. In Britain ‘miasma’ foul air was blamed. &nbsp;In Nepal, cholera was seen as divine damnation. By the late 19th century, as Nepal’s relationship with Britain deepened, the Bir Water Works was inaugurated in 1891 as a defence against cholera. Whether cholera also shaped Bhimsen Thapa’s decision in 1823 is less clear. Contemporary records note the commissioning of Sundhara, but do not refer to the cholera epidemic raging at the time. The silence itself is telling: Nepal’s elites were ruling in the shadow of the disease. Bhimsen Thapa first resided in Thapathali Palace, which was built in 1802 by Nain Singh Thapa, father of Mathabarsingh Thapa, who would briefly become prime minister in the 1840s. In 1806, Bhimsen Thapa moved to Bagh Durbar, a new complex on the western edge of Tundikhel. Historians are vague about the water supply in the residences of the nobility, but wells and water hauled from rivers, ponds, canals, and other sources were likely the primary sources. A small hiti north of Bagh Durbar, near today’s Sun Dhara, may have supplied the palace. In 1823, Bhimsen Thapa had it enlarged, making it the last and largest state-built hiti in Kathmandu. Even as Bhimsen Thapa was involved in palace intrigues and border conflicts, Britain was engineering pipelines. By the late 18th century, Sir Thomas Simpson had invented the bell-and-spigot joint, making long-distance pipes viable. Fluid dynamics, dealing with pumps, pipes, and filters, was becoming a foundational discipline. In Kathmandu, the scourge continued. Cholera struck Kathmandu repeatedly, in 1862, 1867, 1872, 1874 and 1875. The 1872 epidemic, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-in-the-time-of-cholera" target="_blank">according to historian Tom Robertson</a>, claimed between 200 and 250 lives a day. On average, cholera killed between 1,200 and 1,500 people annually in Kathmandu Valley, an enormous toll for its small population. The summer of 1885 was especially calamitous: a cholera epidemic ravaged Kathmandu and its periphery from the beginning of June until late August. The disease even breached the royal palace, reportedly killing 23 people, mostly young girls. Records show that 909 people received treatment at the British Residency dispensary, and estimates suggest that as many as 10,000 people perished in a city of 50,000. In November that year, Bir Shumsher seized power in a coup. He inherited not only a premiership but a Valley ridden with disease. Cholera was endemic, and it was accompanied by typhoid, smallpox, goitre, syphilis, and chronic dyspepsia. The The British Residency dispensary at Lainchaur was inadequate. “In a poor country like ours, wealth means health,” Bir Shumsher remarked, an unusually pragmatic admission that epidemics were not divine punishment but structural afflictions of urban life. He soon pledged to expand health care. In 1889, he opened Bir Hospital and staffed it with Indian doctors to treat cholera, typhoid, smallpox, and other prevalent illnesses. PIPED WATER Bir Shumsher also recognised the need for safe drinking water. Between 1866 and 1872, he had served as Nepal’s ambassador in Calcutta, and he must have seen water mains already in operation there, and a filtration plant inaugurated in 1870. Madras had installed such a system as early as 1800, Bombay constructed the Vihar and Tulsi reservoirs in the mid-19th century. In Kathmandu British Residency personalities such as George Gimlette must have urged Bir’s government to quicken the construction of the hospital and water system, yet the archival traces of such exchanges still await historical scrutiny. By the late 19th century, the British had developed a technological ecosystem for water supply, intakes, pipes, fittings, reservoirs, and trained engineers. Bir Shumsher appealed to the British Government in India for engineering assistance. A British engineer named Mr Feigneur surveyed Kathmandu to prepare maps, and estimated the volume of water that could be brought from the Rudramati River. In 1889, a more experienced engineer, Lockhart Matthew Sinclair arrived. He was a Scotsman educated at Wellington College and the Royal Indian Engineering College, with prior experience in constructing waterworks in Jubbulpore and the Viceregal Palace in Shimla. Appointed State Engineer of Nepal (1889–1892), Sinclair reviewed Feigneur’s plans, updated them, and chose the Bishnumati River as the source of the city’s drinking water. Sinclair’s design included a reservoir at Panipokhari, at 1,330m elevation and 30m above &nbsp;Tundikhel, thereby enabling gravity-fed distribution in pipes. With a capacity of 7,327 cubic metres, the reservoir could store nine days of supply.&nbsp; The system was designed to serve about 70,000 residents through both private connections and public standpipes. The reservoir was a single-compartment tank with an arched brick roof covered in earth and turf. Its brick walls were bonded with lime mortar and aggregate, and its floor was dressed with fly stone. Work on the valley’s water supply began in 1888, three years after Bir Shumsher seized power. The following year, Bir Hospital and the Bir Water Works took shape. The project involved some 40km of imported cast-iron pipes, weighing 1.866 million kg and inscribed with the marks of Scottish foundries ‘Ally and McLean’ and ‘Glasgow’. Construction required 620,000 man-days of labour and cost over Rs600,000. Transport costs inflated prices: <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-the-four-cities-of-the-valley/" target="_blank">a load of cement</a> costing Rs10 in Calcutta was worth Rs33 by the time it reached Kathmandu. Bir Water Works was inaugurated in September 1891, six years after the cholera epidemic. Water flowed out of 131 taps, including eight in Lainchaur, six in the royal palace, eleven in the prime minister’s palace, sixteen around Tundikhel, thirteen in Thapathali, seven in Thamel, and two in Naxal. The system’s designation, the term ‘works’ , echoes the Chelsea, Calcutta, and Glasgow Water Works, underlining its industrial pedigree. Water was also supplied to Phora Durbar, Bir Shumsher’s palace of music and dance whose fountains sprayed rose-scented water in a display of opulence. The <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-" target="_blank">Bir Dhara Works</a> was more than an engineering scheme: it was Nepal’s first modern public-health intervention. Safer drinking water curbed waterborne disease, and the number of cholera outbreaks declined, but were not eliminated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260103020144_d5c22de54c0eaab680a166c5a7482839fdc09b60679109021d0504252a810254.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260103020144_d5c22de54c0eaab680a166c5a7482839fdc09b60679109021d0504252a810254" data-rendition-name="original" width="865" height="535" loading="lazy" alt="Cholera and drinking water in Kathmandu"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260103020144_a46075b6d759585df56a2bb8e5a07d85de7d9a69406165c32784fe30012c9971.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260103020144_a46075b6d759585df56a2bb8e5a07d85de7d9a69406165c32784fe30012c9971" data-rendition-name="original" width="2791" height="3859" loading="lazy" alt="Cholera and drinking water in Kathmandu"> </figure>  “Now we have water to fight cholera, and I believe cholera will no longer prevail. After four years of piped water, the benefits have been greater than expected,” Bir Shumsher said in a proclamation. Despite this, the prevalence of poor sanitation, open defecation, cramped housing, and malnutrition meant that typhoid, smallpox, and dyspepsia remained endemic. The Bir Dhara system marked Kathmandu’s transition from reliance on wells, rivers, springs, and hiti to piped water, operating for several decades and laying the foundation for the expansion of drinking water services across the country in the late twentieth century. <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-the-four-cities-of-the-valley/" target="_blank">Extensions followed in Patan</a> under Chandra Shumsher, and Bhim Shumsher later added the Tri Bhim Dhara. Piped water systems were subsequently constructed in towns such as Kirtipur, Bhaktapur, Dhankuta, Pokhara, Dhulikhel, and Jajarkot which itself saw a deadly cholera outbreak in 2009.&nbsp; CHOLERA METAPHOR In 1933, Nepal’s first water bureaucracy, the Pani Goswara, was established, formalising state involvement in urban water supply. Yet even till the late 20th century, households continue to rely on a mix of sources, including public water networks, private vendors, rooftop storage tanks, borewells, wells, hiti, and household filtration. The lack of reliable water supply places disproportionate financial, physical, and psychological burdens on low-income households, underscoring how decades of infrastructure expansion have not translated into universal, reliable service. during challenges in governance, investment priorities, and regulation. Bir Shumsher also attempted to introduce <a href="https://www.ukaalo.com/news/cholera-in-kathmandu-1958/" target="_blank">basic hygiene measures</a>, such as pit latrines with squatting slabs. However, there is no record of these facilities being built in his palaces, later built palaces, or elsewhere. Sanitation conditions remained poor for both the elite and the general population. Open defecation or the use of crude pit latrines without proper waste disposal was common. With no drainage or sewer systems, human waste accumulated near homes, contributing to the spread of waterborne diseases. In 2019, Nepal declared itself ‘open defecation free’, a policy milestone, but this achievement masks the persistence of deeper problems. Urban areas generate some 867 million litres of wastewater daily, yet only 7% of it is treated before being discharged. Sewage flows untreated into rivers and streams, spreading cholera, typhoid, dysentery, and other diseases, particularly among children and vulnerable communities. Safe disposal of faecal sludge continues to be a major struggle for many communities and local governments. Besides Jajarkot, Godavari in Kathmandu Valley had a localised outbreak in 2024. This year, Birganj was struck by a cholera outbreak caused by a lethal combination of unreliable water supply, groundwater overpumping, poor drainage and hygiene, and unsafe waste disposal. And Nepal’s peacekeepers deployed after the earthquake in Haiti in 2010 were blamed for spreading cholera that ultimately killed 30,000 people in the Caribbean nation. The Bir Water Works was more than a reservoir and pipes. It was Nepal’s first brush with modernity, mediated through engineering and haunted by cholera. More than 134 years on, cholera remains a threat and a reminder of Nepal’s challenges in water and sanitation governance. The issue is not merely ensuring access to safe water but also building public trust that quality essential services can be delivered equitably, sustainably, and with resilience. Ajaya Dixit is a Kathmandu-based researcher exploring Nepal’s water history since the mid-eighteenth century to inform ethical water and river management in a changing climate.

Life in a time of cholera

As someone born and raised in Patan, I knew that the city was rich in art, architecture and intangible heritage. But I never realised just how rich, and how little I knew about its hidden treasures until this book. Yala Mhasika/Exploring Lalitpur/Lalitpurko Chinari is published by the Lalitpur Chamber of Commerce &amp; Industry and introduces the city to the world, as well as to its own inhabitants. Lalitpur is popularly known as Patan, probably because of the pastures for livestock in its outskirts. Its original name in Nepal Bhasa is Yala, and is a blend of urban and rural, old and new.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_700fb4c7b27d78813f69347846403c492cd1d54e2f62e4ec097013714c4a2022.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260101120152_700fb4c7b27d78813f69347846403c492cd1d54e2f62e4ec097013714c4a2022" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Patan Dhoka</figcaption> </figure>  Like other kingdoms in the valley of Swoniga, the dense urban cluster of houses, temples, monasteries were situated along the higher ground, while the farmlands were on the slopes leading to the rivers below. This unique townscape combined an urban lifestyle within a distinctly agriculture-based rural setting. The fertile soil, replenished by organic nutrients washed down from the streets above, as well as Kathmandu’s location on the ancient trade route between India and Tibet, provided the Valley’s kingdoms with prosperity – and thus the flourishing of art and culture over centuries. Most of Yala’s residents were farmers, traders, or artisans. Chinese visitors who came to Nepal in the 6th century saw that there were more traders than farmers, and more temples than houses. An entire street is inhabited by the descendants of Lhasa traders. Arniko is supposed to have been born in Yala.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_0fb490355fac9b8252c9abfbf5ef1bbac844b29103744a421eb6ef6dbc77dff7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260101120152_0fb490355fac9b8252c9abfbf5ef1bbac844b29103744a421eb6ef6dbc77dff7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1332" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Kwonti area which houses five-storey Kumbeshwar temple dedicated to Shiva and Baglamukhi temple dedicated to Dasa Mahavidya shakti peeth.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal exported goods and even minted coins for Tibet, and had a virtual monopoly of the major trans-Himalayan trade routes. This prosperity was reflected in monuments and shrines like the Kwa Baha Golden Temple. More so than the other three kingdoms of Swoniga, architecture flourished in Yala making it the centre for metal, stone and wood craft. The name Lalitpur means ‘city of fine art’ but with its sense of community, it might as well be a city of fine living. Legend also has it that the name Lalitpur comes from a farmer called Lalit who helped bring the rain god Karunamaya from Assam when the Valley was suffering a prolonged drought. Lalit’s shoulder beam stands to this day in Jhatapol. Disasters, invasion and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-in-a-time-of-cholera">epidemics</a> were a recurring theme in Patan.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_b33b1024cb7a46f49fea35ecc9afa2740895907059d7a43c8bd6c463b1be05e7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260101120152_b33b1024cb7a46f49fea35ecc9afa2740895907059d7a43c8bd6c463b1be05e7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Ajima of Haugal Tole which is the oldest stone scripture in Nepal with the Gaja Laxmi in Chyasal.</figcaption> </figure>  The book was put together by the heritage expert team of Rosha Bajracharya, Sunil Pandey and Anil Chitrakar and provides a socio-economic and political history of Patan – how it was always food surplus, thanks to sustainable farming until recently. Ground and drone images by Photo Venture Nepal in the book give us a rare new perspective on Patan. There is an entire chapter on the chariot festival of Karunamaya (Machhindranath), a community-managed festival with Barahi carpenters assembling the woodwork, vine engineers Yamva weaving rope and rattan for the 25m tall chariot, and Ghaku drivers controlling the speed and brakes as the structure rolls through narrow streets in the annual festival.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_d27b23aeb4548b0b64ab8ed20f40baa331060498c6b5443e2cb999b876c670af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260101120152_d27b23aeb4548b0b64ab8ed20f40baa331060498c6b5443e2cb999b876c670af" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Te Bahal in Patan which houses Karunamaya six months a year.</figcaption> </figure>  WALKING, WORSHIPPING The book can help in exploring Patan along five routes starting in Patan Dhoka, Pulchok, Shankhamul, Mahaboudha and Lagankhel with maps and details of the baha and bahil, shrines, ponds, open spaces, dhyochenn, courtyards and phalcha along the way. Because of its coffee-table size and heft, however, the guidebook is not practical to carry around. And despite detailed descriptions of the past and present of each site, readers are left wanting to know more about those places. It is proof of Patan’s vast treasures that even this book barely scratches the surface.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_31a597b7dc1bcc9f67b4f6a66b8c1c0e0a9406727389699e6aed9ac6c3c50901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260101120152_31a597b7dc1bcc9f67b4f6a66b8c1c0e0a9406727389699e6aed9ac6c3c50901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1332" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Patukodom where visitors can view what remains of the ancient Kirant palace.</figcaption> </figure>  Some of the lesser-known must-visit sites include Patukodom which is all that remains of a palace of the original Kirat inhabitants of Patan. An archaeological dig here would surely unearth hitherto unknown facets of pre-Newa Patan. Then there are the slightly out of the way shrines like Mahabouha, a replica of a temple in Bodhgaya which houses 3,341 terracotta Buddhas with 90 big statues and which took 35 years and four generations to complete.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_ffb657dc254f707dc1755f6f13b1ef67bb7183b6573da9678c54482129fb3878.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260101120152_ffb657dc254f707dc1755f6f13b1ef67bb7183b6573da9678c54482129fb3878" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Mahaboudha is a replica of a temple in Bodhgaya.</figcaption> </figure>  In a recent Patan by Night heritage walk, we learnt that Pim Bahal was the labour of love of a lakhe demon (now popularised as masked dancer) who had fallen for a local girl, and he dug the pond so she would not have to walk to a faraway spout to collect water. Nearby is the Charumati Chaitya, built by the daughter of Emperor Ashoka when she visited the Valley in the 3rd century BCE to spread Buddhism in Nepal. Interestingly, if Kathmandu is a city of temples, Patan is the centre of monasteries which represent a unique Tantric melding of Buddhist and Hindu forms. Examples are: the Tadham Cuka with relocated Licchavi-era chaityas symbolic of the four major events in Buddha’s life, Ajima of Haugal Tole which is the oldest stone scripture in Nepal with the Gaja Laxmi in Chyasal, and Bignantak Ganesa temple which is a manifestation of Shiva mingled with Vajrayana Buddhism.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_17a500e77f06b9881f684329e41d3482f6f6a639ffb929d8bb44e5af7934c61c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260101120152_17a500e77f06b9881f684329e41d3482f6f6a639ffb929d8bb44e5af7934c61c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Bignantak Ganesa temple.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;Besides spatial descriptions, the book also explains the temporal by curating a detailed cultural calendar of Lalitpur with dates and places of jatra, rituals, devotional dances and festivals that weave the agricultural cycle with the zodiac.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_b8e1cc03653fea85dec84a7abee4fd594c35c6ad553769f37905eb5b38774e08.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260101120152_b8e1cc03653fea85dec84a7abee4fd594c35c6ad553769f37905eb5b38774e08" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Mipwa Lakhe of Patan which create fire in mid aid during performance.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_442e10bff842214e8c7522ebf6e63663599768db73bb57d999deff9de1b59375.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260101120152_442e10bff842214e8c7522ebf6e63663599768db73bb57d999deff9de1b59375" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Gan pyakhan or Astamatrika dance which is performed in Patan Darbar Squre during Dasain. </figcaption> </figure>  The very last chapter is dedicated to water and nature, what sustains lives and civilisations, and how Lalitpur continues to be the city it is because of the water supply system our ancestors left behind which function still, despite encroachment and pollution. ‘In the history of the world cities have been built, they thrived for some time and then became archaeological sites because they were not able to maintain the quality of air, water, and its soil,’ the authors write. ‘This led these cities to depopulate and ultimately die and are only referred to in history books. Lalitpur is not going to make the same mistake.’ &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260104080132_3f403388d57da82b499d6c489a8f095002bf69f11e515e92fa96fb5ca3af69e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260104080132_3f403388d57da82b499d6c489a8f095002bf69f11e515e92fa96fb5ca3af69e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur"> </figure>

YALA

For daring to demand democracy, the Rana regime hanged activist Shukra Raj Shastri at midnight on 24 January 1941 by the side of the road at Teku. Across town in Siphal, Dharma Bhakta Mathema was also hanged. Four days later, Dasrath Chand and Gangalal Shrestha were executed by firing squad. These four young revolutionaries were members of the underground Nepal Praja Parishad that led the anti-Rana revolution with plans to assassinate key figures of the dynasty. The four martyrs sacrificed their lives for an unfulfilled cause. Monuments were put up in their honour (Shahid Gate) and their names glorified by the Shah monarchy that itself went on to ban political parties and persecute democracy activists. In 1950, the newly-formed Nepal National Congress launched an armed uprising against Rana rule after King Tribhuvan sought refuge at the Indian embassy to flee from the Rana regime. In 1951, the Ranas, Nepali Congress and King Tribhuvan signed a tripartite agreement that brought an end to 104 years of Rana rule.&nbsp; Thus began contemporary Nepal’s cycles of unfinished revolutions. Some 75 years later, on a sunny September morning, Nepal’s young and hopeful took to the streets demanding an end to the nation’s corrupt polity, envisioning a better democracy. They organised through digital platforms, played songs, danced, and chanted slogans. A few hours later, commandos fired on the protesters, massacring dozens. Over 8 and 9 September 2025, the government was overthrown, constitutional bodies were literally reduced to ashes, and 74 Nepalis were martyred.&nbsp; Nepal’s periodic revolutions have been ignited by anger against rulers, they have begun with great promise, spread with enthusiastic popular support despite rulers trying to crush them — but ultimately they have always fallen short of the expectations of citizens demanding reform. Through decades of dissent, Nepal’s periodic revolutions have remained incomplete, with the nation caught up in a cyclical search for stability.&nbsp; In 1960, king Mahendra staged a coup and overthrew an elected government led by prime minister B P Koirala -- a royal revolution against democracy. Mahendra is reported to have famously said to Koirala: “Nepal is not big enough for the two of us.” For the next 30 years Nepal resembled a one-party state under the absolute monarchy of the Panchayat. Elected leaders languished in jail or exile, political parties were banned, and the press controlled. This was the most frigid period of the Cold War, with Nepal’s neighbours India and China at war. Geopolitics was bound to have an impact. “After the 1816 Sugauli Treaty with British India, external forces magnified internal power struggles as outsiders played divide and rule,” explains editor and political analyst Rajendra Dahal. “Movements did not reach a logical conclusion because domestic politicians were forced to compromise.” Indeed, the departure of the British from India in 1947 meant that the days of the Anglophile Rana regime were numbered. Successive prime ministers sought patronage in Delhi, and the monarchy tried to counterbalance it with a policy of equidistance with China. The neighbours showed a keen strategic interest in Nepal’s domestic politics. “The Panchayat system did not deliver what it promised,” says Santosh Sharma Poudel of Nepal Institute of Policy and Research. “Nepalis suffered administrative and governance failure, politics was centralised in Kathmandu, leaving out the rest of Nepal.” With mainstream political parties and leaders were &nbsp;underground between 1961 till 1990, student activists became proxies for political parties. As pressure for change grew, a student-led pro-democracy movement spread across Nepal in 1979. In response, King Birendra announced a referendum to allow Nepalis to choose between the status quo and a ‘reformed’ Panchayat &nbsp;system.&nbsp; The Panchayat won by a slim margin with questions about the legitimacy of the plebiscite. The reforms never materialised and it would be another decade before street anger boiled over again. As the People’s Movement for democracy spread, king Birendra again relented, unbanning political parties and Nepal became a constitutional monarchy. Inspired by Mao Zedong, a faction of Nepal’s Communists felt that western-style parliamentary democracy was too slow to end a feudalist monarchy. They launched an armed struggle in 1996, and the war lasted ten years (editorial, page 2). “If the democratic government post-1990 had performed better, and brought real reform, the Maoists would not have a reason to launch a revolution,” says Poudel. After nearly a decade of bloodshed that left 17,000 dead and thousands still missing, the Maoists joined forces with the democratic parties that they had been fighting, to pressure king Gyanendra through street protests in 2006 to restore democracy. In 2008, an elected Constituent Assembly abolished the monarchy. &nbsp;Recalls Rajendra Dahal: “The second people’s movement did not aim to abolish the monarchy. In fact, the reinstated parliament even granted equal rights for royal daughters to be crowned queen. But eventually, the monarchy no longer fit the political framework that the parties envisioned.” It took two elections over the next eight years to draft a new Constitution that reflected Nepal’s socio-cultural and geographic diversity and met the demands of the Maoists. The new federal Constitution was finally promulgated in 2015, but failed to satisfy India and the aspirations of the Madhes communities for autonomy. The state’s effort to crush the Madhes movement cost 45 lives. The promise of the new Constitution was squandered over the next decade with rotating leadership of the NC, UML and the Maoists — all of whom had forgotten the sacrifices made in the name of revolution. Cronyism and corruption was the order of the day. And it was this never-ending cycle of political opportunism and malgovernance that brought Nepal’s youth to the streets on 8 September.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120128_bc50f6370ff80a6758199ea7ba9f4c214656a9322a8d2ba1c97e6cdfb88f7f62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260101120128_bc50f6370ff80a6758199ea7ba9f4c214656a9322a8d2ba1c97e6cdfb88f7f62" data-rendition-name="original" width="3372" height="1371" loading="lazy" alt="timeline"> </figure>  1951 Revolution against the &nbsp;Rana regime 1960 King Mahendra's coup, jails B P Koirala and launches the partyless Panchayat system 1979 Student protests for democracy, King Birendra announces referendum&nbsp; 1980 Continuation of the partyless Panchayat system narrowly wins plebiscite&nbsp; 1990 People’s Movement I 1996 Maoists launch armed struggle&nbsp; 2000 Royal Massacre 2005 King Gyanendra's military-backed coup&nbsp; 2006 Comprehensive Peace Accord and Parliament restored 2008 Monarchy is abolished 2015 Madhes Movement, New Constitution promulgated 2017 First 3-tier election under federal system 2022 Second elections under federal Constitution&nbsp; 2025 GenZ protests BRK ALLIANCE “The socio-political change sought in all these movements never matched the people’s expectations, because the central issue of clean and efficient government never materialised,” says Poudel. The post-September political landscape has injected new personalities and alliances still relatively new to politics, as evidenced by the new electoral partnership of the BRK — Balen Shah, Rabi Lamichhane, and Kulman Ghising (page 1).&nbsp; These leaders are not without flaws, but they have become the effective flag-bearers of the GenZ movement, hoping to represent Nepalis disillusioned by decades of democratic decay. The March election will pit them against the legacy parties. There is already criticism that BRK is behaving just like male-dominated opportunists of old parties. The troika is resembling the triumvirate of Oli, Deuba and Dahal and its culture of patronage and quid-pro-quo power-sharing between alpha males. Will this also be another unfinished revolution? Says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal: &nbsp;“The kind of destruction that happened after the revolution should have been followed by a ground-breaking shift in Nepal’s political ecosystem, but that did not happen. Today the situation is a lot grimmer because we have players who have learned how to use the democratic facade to sound ‘equitable’ and ‘accountable’. But look closely and you see how the same political chauvinism, cronyism and nepotism still continue.”&nbsp;

Nepal’s incomplete revolutions

Nepal’s 2022 elections, its second under the federal system, was marked by the disruption in Nepal’s political status quo. Two figures stood out in particular: Balen Shah, whose outsider candidacy transformed urban political imagination, and the Rastriya Swatantra Party under Rabi Lamichhane, which leveraged his extensive media-built credibility to secure unexpected influence within months of its formation.&nbsp;
Their success was not an ideological victory, it was the victory of leaders who presented a vision of leadership that was different from Nepal’s political norm. It was the result of sophisticated public relations, effective message dissemination, and the careful cultivation of the credibility of these forces.&nbsp;
Last week, these once-separate trajectories formally converged as Shah and Lamichhane first joined forces, and within twenty-four hours their alliance expanded further with Kulman Ghising’s Ujjyalo Party. Ghising, who was appointed Minister in Nepal’s post-September interim Cabinet largely due to his public goodwill, has been another public figure whose reputation has been built as much through performance as through perception.&nbsp;
Together, Balen-Rabi-Kulman (BRK) now present themselves as an alternative front to the entrenched Oli–Prachanda–Deuba(OPD) power centre. But as this emerging bloc positions itself as a corrective option to “old politics”, the first substantive glimpse into its internal political behaviour raises important questions. The alliance’s Proportional Representation (PR) list provides an early indicator of priorities.&nbsp;
“The PR list of RSP showcases the utter disrespect for the constitution,” says Shailee Chaudhary, a PR candidate from Gatisheel Loktantrik Party. “It reveals that RSP at its core is an opportunistic clique instead of a political party. For them the PR list became a corporate takeover for their investors and brand ambassadors.”&nbsp;
Prospective candidates were reportedly required to pay Rs50,000 to have their names included, and the resulting roster reads less like a reflection of Nepal’s diverse social fabric and more like an inventory of recognised public figures.&nbsp;
The party’s explanation for the Rs50,000 fee requirement was that it has been raised to ensure that candidates are well off enough to not engage in corruption. But Mangpahang says this defense implies that corruption is exclusive to the poor.&nbsp;
“The PR system of RSP has been captured by elites,” says Yajaswi Mangpahang, President of Youth Congress Nepal. “The fact that one had to be affluent to be considered in the list is exclusionary.”
Mangpahang compares the PR selection process of the RSP to the Nepali Congress. The NC has exploited the PR list, she says, but the party has at the least understood the essence of the system, and why it exists.
“Nepal’s diversity, its socio-economic and political history, as well as where we are now must be understood by politicians,” she adds.&nbsp;
POLITICS OR POPULARITY CONTEST?
Actors, singers, pageant winners to business personalities and athletes in RSP’s PR list have positioned themselves as representatives of marginalised communities from dalit, adhiwasi janajati, and khas-arya communities. Notable names include: singer Prakash Saput (Dalit), actress Reema Bishwokarma (Dalit Woman), former Miss Nepal Anushka Shrestha (Adhivasi Woman), executive director of Goldstar shoes Vidhusi Rana (Khas-Arya Woman) and the once formidable contender for KMC mayoral race, Ranju Darshana (Khas Arya-Woman).&nbsp;
“The legal benchmarks of the representations are met but there is no clarity of principle in the list,” says Mangpahang.
Rather than reimagining representation, RSP’s PR list appears to extend the same reliance on visibility and public appeal that has driven the BRK’s rise so far. Reducing politics to communication tactics and profile-building not only trivialises governance, it fundamentally distorts the purpose of the proportional representation system, which was designed to broaden inclusion, not as a stage to curate and amplify personalities with pre-existing social capital.&nbsp;
“The inclusion of already established figures in the PR list meant for marginalised communities is evidence of intellectual and moral poverty,” says Chaudhary. “It signals that their approach is 100% about marketing and 0% about representation. They are not building a party, they are merging fan clubs, they confuse social media trends with grassroots movements and celebrity recognition with democratic legitimacy.”
Indeed, this strategy is akin to the dynamics of social media, where visibility translates directly into political currency. Shah’s politics has been inseparable from his online persona, carefully crafted through bold declarations, poetic nationalism, and viral digital performance. Lamichhane’s rise, meanwhile, is rooted in years of television-driven credibility, now amplified through algorithmic circulation that rewards outrage, emotional immediacy, and charismatic confrontation over deliberative politics.&nbsp;
The BRK project exemplifies how Nepali politics is increasingly being shaped by algorithmic culture. Platforms such as Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube don’t simply reflect political sentiment; they actively shape it by privileging sensationalism, conflict, and personality-driven storytelling. Their political momentum is therefore less a reflection of ideological consolidation and more a product of digital mobilisation, where “followers” begin to substitute party structures, and engagement metrics are mistaken for mass legitimacy.&nbsp;
In such an ecosystem, leaders who can command attention are rewarded more than those who can articulate policy. Indeed, political power in Nepal is increasingly determined by who commands the loudest applause, especially online. This risks reducing democracy to an algorithmic popularity contest: noisy and charismatic, but ultimately no different from the legacy political figures, just with a new facade.&nbsp;
“In the long run this subverts the constitution rendering its core components meaningless. It kills the spirit of inclusive democracy, it also erases marginalised voices, pushing the voices of women, Dalit, adivasi janajati and other marginalised groups and reduces politics to a spectator sport,” adds Chaudhary. “It teaches voters that politics is about cheering for individual heroes, not about advocating for communities or ideologies.”
Political legitimacy online may appear like that people and the leader are interacting, directly in touch with one another, but to pursue popularity over policy-driven politics is to avoid facing the public. What the RSP has done now is to make a safety valve for elites so that they do not actively interact with the people.&nbsp;
“To run an election is to have guts, you must have an understanding of your constituency, you must have a vision, and it is a gamble,” says Mangpahang.&nbsp;
When political legitimacy becomes increasingly tethered to personal popularity and digital visibility, it risks sidelining individuals who possess competence, policy expertise, and grassroots understanding, because they lack comparable social capital.&nbsp;
If the system rewards recognition over representation, leadership opportunities go to those embedded in media and celebrity ecosystems. This could consolidate power and perpetuate the marginalisation of communities who are structurally disenfranchised from politics.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.