<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70439c7e80680e06006cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photos : JOSIE WANG</figcaption></figure>Standing in his field on the outskirts of Pokhara and below the dazzling snows of the Annapurna mountains, Xiang Shaohua points to peach saplings in his orchard.The seedlings were sent to him by his son and daughter who are studying back home in China. And just like Xiang himself, the peach are striking roots in Nepal’s soil.Xiang first came to Nepal 10 years ago as a tourist, travelled to Pokhara and was so mesmerised by the place and people here that he never left.Today, he rents 2 hectares of farm and is growing lettuce, cauliflower and fruits commercially to sell to the market and restaurants in the lakeside tourist town. He also works as a subcontractor at Pokhara airport, and at other infrastructure projects.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/miyahara-san-a-life-devoted-to-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Miyahara-san: a life devoted to Nepal,</a> Kunda Dixit“In the beginning, it was only supposed to be for three years, and if it did not work out, I planned to go back to China,” Xiang recalls. “It has not all been smooth sailing, but it has been worth it.”Xiang now has his father and wife helping out at the farm. The fact that he came from a farming family back in Sichuan where the climate and soil are similar to Nepal, has been helpful.Xiang says his most challenging period was during the 2015 blockade, when supplies were scarce. He felt like quitting, but realised he had greater responsibilities.“Actually, I could have left, but that would have meant that my Nepali employees would be out of their jobs,” recalls 32-year-old Xiang, who speaks Nepali with a distinct Pokhara lilt and considers himself “half Nepali”. Everyone here knows him by his Nepali nickname, Sandesh, and some call him China’s “non-governmental ambassador” to Nepal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">From Liz Hawley in Kathmandu</a>, Kunda DixitHis Nepali side was heartbroken to see the destruction after <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/photos-nepal-earthquake-2015,2207" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the 2015 earthquake</a>, and reminded him of the deadly Sichuan earthquake of 2008. He and some other Chinese from Pokhara set up a rescue team and headed off to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/11/26/winter-emergency-for-quake-survivors/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gorkha</a> to dig among the ruins with their bare hands and shovels to rescue people.While tens of thousands of youth from Pokhara have migrated to the Gulf or Malaysia for work, Xiang is proof that there is plenty to do in Nepal itself, and it is possible to prosper if one is prepared for hard work.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70469c7e80680e06006djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">“Farming is very labour intensive, and I notice that most educated young Nepalis are unwilling to do it,” says Xiang, who recalls the first time he came to Pokhara and noticed that farm productivity could be easily improved. That is when he saw an opportunity to put some of his own farming experience to good use, and stayed. Now, Xiang regards Nepal as his second home, and his Nepali neighbours regard the cheerful Nepali-speaking Chinese as a Nepali too.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/goodbye-jan-and-christine-2018/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Goodbye Jan and Christine</a>“I know Nepal. I know what Nepalis need. At the same time, I can communicate with Chinese enterprises to know what they want, and I can be a good go-between,” says Xiang.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokhara-nepals-new-aviation-gateway/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">With the new airport</a>, and Chinese contractors working on various hydropower projects in Central Nepal, Xiang sees lots of opportunity for mutual learning between Nepali and Chinese people.Xiang is not interested in making the quick buck, and says: “I would rather do something I like doing even if I do not make money for a while.”Farming is not that profitable, but it is a passion and he enjoys growing food among people he likes, and in a land he calls his second home.In his office, a poster on the wall in Mandarin characters says: ‘Remain true to your aspiration’. Xiang appears to follow his motto to the letter. And as he starts his second decade in Nepal, Xiang wants to make the best of his life in Pokhara.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4163#.XhbhGVUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">We'll stay</a>, Ramyata Limbu

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Chinese farmer strikes roots in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a95a09c7e80680e05dc1ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: NARESH NEWAR</figcaption></figure>Farm entrepreneur Bishnu Bhujel did everything to not be a farmer like his parents in Sarlahi. Subsistence agriculture had ruined them, so they could not even send their children to school.Bishnu migrated to India for work when he turned 20 so he could support the education of his young siblings. He worked as a carpet machine operator in Banaras, a mechanic in a furniture factory in Rajasthan, and then repaired diesel generators for a living.Confident of his hands-on technical skills, Bishnu returned to Nepal to start his own furniture shop in Kathmandu. But running a business was tougher than he expected — operating costs were high due to long power cuts, staff salaries and high rent, and the furniture market was highly competitive. Profits were marginal and Bishnu lost all his savings.He then joined a local handicraft factory, where he made wooden buttons for shirts and tools for singing bowls. The salary was so low he could not even afford rent, so he started a bicycle shop, bought a taxi and ran a vegetable store. But after piling up debts, he sold all his businesses.Desperate, Bishnu decided to go back to farming as a last resort, even though he knew the pitfalls. “It was risky. We had heard stories of how small farmers struggled, but we went ahead because we had run out of options,” recalls Bishnu, now 49. He scouted around Kathmandu Valley and finally found an unused farm in Jharuwarasi, 20km outside the Ring Road in Thaiba Municpality. He and his wife Sanu leased 0.3 hectares of it for Rs100,000 a year.Read Also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/back-to-the-land" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Back to the land,</a> Sonia Awale<a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-cycle-of-migration,3230" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The cycle of migration,</a> Om Astha, RaiThey first built a small tin house and tomato greenhouses. But the 2015 earthquake struck, and there was no irrigation and no electricity. “All we had were candles and the moon for light — and this was just a few kilometres from Kathmandu,” Sanu recalls.“Sanu and I are hard-working, and we were forced to be creative to survive.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a95a39c7e80680e05dc1bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="471"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This was a big test for both of us,” says Bishnu, who then lobbied endlessly with the local ward office to get the electricity they needed to pump water for irrigation. Today, the family has electricity, a sufficient supply of water and a dirt road, which they built themselves so buyers have access to their vegetables.“Finally, it has worked. We are not rich but we have now enough income to sustain our lives, educate our children and have a decent life,” says Bishnu, whose family also opened a small grocery to generate additional income.The success of the Bhujels has been an inspiration to many local residents, a majority of whom are not using their land for commercial farming but prefer to lease it to migrant families.Bishnu notes the irony of it all: “I abandoned farming, but it is farming that has saved my family from poverty.”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LB1CvIEhkr0&amp;feature=youtu.beLast year, the family was able to earn Rs400,000 from the tomato patch, double the initial investment. “Farming can be profitable, but you need patience and hard work. It takes time but it is well worth it,” explains Bishnu, who hopes more Nepalis will choose to remain in the country rather than migrate to toil in the desert, far away from home.Sanu agrees: “The young generation is restless, and wants to make quick cash. They need to be entrepreneurial so that they don’t have to migrate abroad and suffer hardship and financial risks.”Journalist-turned-farmer Naresh Newar is starting this fortnightly multimedia column, Made in Nepal, in Nepali Times with this first instalment. The columns will deal with success stories of small entrepreneurs in Nepal.Read Also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Recharging the mountains,</a> Sonia Awale<a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Cross-Cutting/returning-migrants-bring-back-positive-social-norms-skills,356" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Remitting knowhow,</a> Ashutosh Tiwari<a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/farmers-in-Surkhet-save-water-boost-harvests,2132" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Smart farmers practice smart farming,</a> Stéphane Huët

Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding

https://youtu.be/7ai0bu0OtrwThere is something inherently elitist about labels like ‘expat’ and ‘diaspora’. They refer to skilled Nepalis studying, working or living abroad and not to the hundreds of thousands of migrant workers when, in fact, both are just individuals moving out for better opportunities.But Nepal’s migrant economy has also opened up new business prospects, as Kalyan Ghimire discovered. It was during a trip to Qatar to organise a musical event for Nepalis that he saw a market for ‘nostalgic products’ like dalle khursani and gundruk among the 400,000 Nepalis in Qatar.“On one hand, I saw Qatar’s reliance on imports of vegetables, especially after the embargo, with a high share of Nepalis as the consumers of these imports,” Ghimire explained. “On the other hand, farmers in Nepal were destroying produce using dozers to protest low prices.”Although he had little experience in the trade, Ghimire set out on a mission to play the role of a link by establishing Al Saman International. His business intuition told him Nepali migrant workers could be customers, marketers and advisers. Nepalis work in just about every sector in Qatar, and through them he was able to establish networks with higher-ups who make procurement decisions.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dead-end-of-the-korean-dream/">Dead end of the Korean Dream</a>, Ki MindoGhimire’s son Saman is based in Qatar and now in charge of marketing Nepali produce. He says: “Nepali workers were reluctant in the beginning to believe that it was do-able. But once they saw the possibility, they are doing everything to help us.”It required just the first few orders for the business to take off. Nepalis were the biggest consumers and helped spread the word. A wave of selfies by migrant workers next to ‘Nepali Vegetables’ signs proliferated on social media. The red hot dalle khursani chillies have been a particular hit, including among Pakistanis.“Word of mouth and social media did wonders in expanding our consumer base,” says Saman Ghimire, who adds that Nepalis working in supermarkets go out of their way to help spread the word. “A Nepali bhai in one mart even changed the placement of our vegetables as he thought they were not visible enough.”Ghimire’s Facebook account now resembles review websites like Yelp. Workers send unsolicited reviews and advice. One of them reads in Nepali: “I was at the Able mart the other day where special vegetables from India and Bangladesh were being sold. There was a huge crowd of buyers there, including Nepalis. I recommend you to explore this possibility.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/us-ban-on-malaysian-glove-exporter-affects-nepalis/">US ban on Malaysian glove exporter affects Nepalis</a>, Upasana Khadka<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141156/636a606d9c7e80680e056e7cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="1084"/>Recently, Qataris were spotted buying gundruk in Ghimire’s partner store in Doha, Fresh Food Mart. With many Nepalis working as cooks, their employers seem to have developed a taste for the fermented Nepali dish as well.The company has streamlined a supply chain to fly consignments of fresh Nepali veggies to Doha every Wednesday and Sunday. The seven markets place their orders a day or two before. Back in Nepal, farmers bring their produce to a collection point in Satdobato early morning on shipment day.The produce is graded, packaged and sent to the airport quarantine office, then put into the cargo holds of flights to Qatar. A team at Doha airport receives the shipments and dispatches them to market. This Wednesday orders were placed for 1,900kg of fiddleheads, chillies, radish, French beans and bamboo shoots.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/migrants-abroad-left-in-lurch/">Migrants abroad left in lurch</a>, Nepali TimesThere have been hiccups along the way. For example, there is a big demand for coriander and mustard leaves, but they have a short shelf-life and attempts to export them have not worked out.One big challenge is the cost of air freight, which puts Nepali produce at a price disadvantage compared to items from India, Bangladesh and Pakistan. The government could help by setting a lower rate for perishables in the cargo holds of Doha-bound aircraft.For now, the father-and-son team is trying to consolidate the business, make supplies reliable and fresh for current customers. Says Saman Ghimire: “If we can ensure the guaranteed supply of vegetables, demand is not a problem.”The Ghimires also have their eyes on FIFA 2022, when they expect demand to grow. They are also hoping to branch out into exporting bottled water and t-shirts for the World Cup games.Says Kalyan Ghimire: “There is potential for so much more economic activity beyond labour migration. Returnees can also play an important role in expanding their horizons in the Gulf and Malaysia.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/success-in-nepal-means-not-having-to-work/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Success in Nepal means not having to work</a>, Anil Chitrakar<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141156/636a606f9c7e80680e056e7djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h2>US ban on Malaysian glove exporter affects Nepalis</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141156/636a60729c7e80680e056e7ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="500">The suspension of exports from Malaysia-based WRP Asia Pacific, a glove manufacturer, by the US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) Detention Orders this month has been hailed as a milestone in the fight against forced labour and has potential implications for Nepali workers in Malaysia.WRP Asia Pacific was accused of using forced labour at its plants in Malaysia, and the order has reverberated throughout the rubber sector, which accounts for 65% of the global glove industry.The company made headlines recently after a strike by over 2,000 Nepali and Bangladeshi workers, who said they had not been paid for months.“We held a strike for two days, and resumed work only after our Embassy intervened and the employer was forced to pay due wages.We have been paid in a timely manner since then, but we don’t know how the ban will affect our future,” said Dipak Rai, a Nepali worker.The media reports led Malaysia’s Ministry of Human Resource to file a court case against WRP Asia Pacific. The US move is as per its Trade Facilitation and Trade Enforcement Act, which makes imports produced by forced labour illegal.Other countries also have laws for due diligence in global supply chains, like the French Corporate Duty of Vigilance Bill or the UK’s Modern Slavery Act, holding parent companies liable for activities of subcontractors and suppliers.The CBP order has also halted imports from four other countries: China (garments), Brazil (bone charcoal), Democratic Republic of Congo (gold) and Zimbabwe (diamonds).It is difficult for the Nepal Government to unilaterally lobby or watch-dog destination countries outside its jurisdiction to ensure compliance of labour standards in ‘dangerous, dirty and difficult’ jobs Nepalis do. Given that migrant workers do not have freedom of association in many destination countries, collective bargaining is not always possible.The Nepal Government has tried to bypass the limitations by requiring Nepal-based recruitment agencies to be held accountable for non-compliance of contractual terms by a foreign employer. Licensed recruiters now have to contribute to escrow deposits so workers are compensated in case of exploitation.Malaysia is now proposing a new chapter on forced labour in its Employment Act, and pushing companies to conduct social audits, which they have so far been reluctant to do. A case like the WRP one can push for tangible outcomes for the welfare of often-overlooked workers, and could set a precedent for systemic reforms in labour migration.Upasana KhadkaSome names have been changed.

Upasana Khadka

Greens from Nepal in Qatar’s desert

<img width="2480" height="1753" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141148/636a5edf9c7e80680e056df2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Vidyadutt Sharma, 83, stands in front of his blue-tinted two storey home, looking out into a 360 panorama of the Himalayan mountains. This is Moti Bagh, Sharma’s farm in Pauri district of the Indian state of Uttarakhand. Tall, with an aquiline nose, white hair cropped close to his scalp and rugged features, weathered by work in the farm, Sharma in kurta pyjama and vest, points to the abandoned homes and locked gates. These are the ‘ghost villages’ where inhabitants have migrated permanently. “The mountains are dying,” says Sharma, who worked for the state government and resigned when he was 28. There is a photo of him with a fierce beard, which he grew in protest to get high school status for the village school. Now, it is an Inter College, he says proudly. Another family photo with his wife and four children, two daughters and two sons, one who died young. His wife died in 2000. “She kept us all together and whatever status I have today is because of her,” he says. Sharma (pictured right) ploughs his land with oxen, plants seeds, hauls his own water and chops wood. He sings while sowing seeds of monkeys and langoors who pick and destroy the crops, the wild boars, cows, parrots, jackals, porcupines. In 2019 Sharma’s record breaking 22.75 kg radish won a national award and made him famous. Cooking a vegetable dish over a wood fire he says ‘upper’ caste people have left the villages and abandoned farming. The ‘lower’ castes do all the work. With the demise of farming, producers are now consumers, people want to work with the mind, not hands, scared of physical labour, he says.“It’s easy to write books, but the challenge is to make a tomato seed grow,” Sharma adds.Consolidated fragmented farms would make agriculture more productive. The farms were rainfed, and when in 1976 Sharma started rainwater harvesting the villagers laughed at him. <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141148/636a5ee29c7e80680e056df3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="2000">Pauri town is 35 kilometres from Moti Bagh and built up in concrete like most hill towns. Tribhuvan Uniyal, Sharma’s journalist son, lives here with his wife and two children. Will they farm? His daughter wants to do fashion design. In a trip to Pauri town to meet the Regional Transport Officer (RTO), Sharma protests about the re-routing of buses in their village. The bus contractor tells the RTO on the phone that there are not enough passengers on rural routes anymore. Get the buses back on the usual routes, orders the RTO. With locals having migrated, most farmhands here are from Nepal. Helping Sharma on his farm is Ram Singh, who came here from western Nepal 18 years ago and never left. He is happy the children got to go to school, he has savings to send back to the larger family back home.“Locals are jealous of me,” Ram Singh says with a toothy smile. When he first came, he and his family were called names and told to go back to Nepal. Now, he says, he is accepted. “I will have to return to Nepal one day or, maybe we will be made to go back,” he says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141148/636a5ee69c7e80680e056df4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="1280">Director Nirmal Chander Dandriyal (pictured left) is himself from Uttarakhand and his sensitivity to his protagonists shines through the film. He was born in Chennai, but began travelling to Uttarakhand more frequently around 2011. Seeing migration as a central issue interconnected to others, he felt it could be a theme for a film. But, how to tell the story?  Migration was not a new issue. But while it is seasonal in other states, in Uttarakhand it is permanent.So, Moti Bagh became the location, a microcosm to the big picture. The story unfolds through the characters, without hectoring, lecturing, or a voice over of gloom and doom. The characters in the film are fresh and rooted in the environment. Supported by India’s Public Broadcasting Service Trust (PBST) and Prasar Bharati, Chander was able to shoot in different seasons, various stages of cultivation, and events such as marriages and wildfires. Chander’s rhythms changed and informed the way he shot. He let it flow. The cycles and pace of life quietened him. He found peace.Moti Bagh has been picked as an entry for the oscars and will be screened at the South Asian Documentary Film Festival in November in Kathmandu.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHfTKPUBY1gMoti Bagh, 201960 minHindi

Moti Bagh

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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