‘Devi’ does not just stand for different <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/giving-a-face-to-a-deity?fbclid=IwY2xjawFtoG5leHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHXa4139HVkEZUtSxGZJRZxF_-mhuZWHUa9VznwFsj2uv1OuaHIj5GwkpBw_aem_6t_qShHd7HRRw3KjhHPRqg">goddesses </a>who embody creation, destruction, and the cycles of life. It is symbolic of feminine energy in both spiritual and human forms.&nbsp; The goddesses mirror cultural and social ideals of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/of-women-for-women-by-women">womanhood</a>, celebrating the essence of feminine power and strength. The many forms of Devi transcend religion, borders, realities, and personal awakenings. Devi is form yet formlessness, elemental and elusive, mystical and mundane, beautiful yet brutal. This multifaceted nature of female deities finds quiet expression in the stillness of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tsherin-sherpa-returns-home-to-takpa">Takpa Gallery</a>, through the collaborative work of Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow and Tara Di Gesu. Crow is from Colorado, and has been living and learning art in India, Nepal and Canada. Di Gesu learnt classical thangka painting in Nepal, adding a new delicate quality to the sacred artform.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250710140736_73f64aad171ea203e9f795329001ad7ef76e84442f891252af3120fe143a869d.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250710140736_73f64aad171ea203e9f795329001ad7ef76e84442f891252af3120fe143a869d" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="1304" loading="lazy" alt="The divine Devi"> <figcaption>Lotus Tara by Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow</figcaption> </figure>  Crow’s artwork of layered lotuses forming the image of Lotus Tara is a contemporary interpretation of the revered goddess, rendered in mixed media photo collage. Through soft blue and pink pastels, Lotus Tara radiates tranquility. In contrast, Marigold Tara emerges from a deep, dark backdrop, with her form shaped by fiery orange marigolds. In Red Tara Realm, digital collage and paint meld to create a hypnotic, multi-dimensional effect where the many forms of the deity in red overlap and intertwine within a single frame. A simpler, original version of Red Tara sits nearby, counterbalancing the dynamic fusion.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250710140736_0a787dda0626eaed1399b24dc9bb3af2e297a71f109cb60997bc234acc6fa422.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250710140736_0a787dda0626eaed1399b24dc9bb3af2e297a71f109cb60997bc234acc6fa422" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The divine Devi"> <figcaption>Kalavinka by Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow</figcaption> </figure>  One of her more intriguing works is Kalavinka, painted on handmade Indian paper with mineral pigments featuring a colourful bird’s body paired with a feminine human head. The human head embodies intellect while the bird represents instinct and agility. Offering Devis is another unique display, made with rose petals, gathered from Mandala offerings that Crow collected, dried, pressed, and painted onto delicate Japanese paper. Tara Di Gesu’s artwork evokes bolder and more spiritually intense themes, drawing inspiration from the style commonly found in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/golden-deities">traditional thangka paintings</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250710140736_5836aab649efd7920beebfd2442063d4e43970bdb62c549917fee3c3b48a7975.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250710140736_5836aab649efd7920beebfd2442063d4e43970bdb62c549917fee3c3b48a7975" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="The divine Devi"> <figcaption>Kali by Tara Di Gesu</figcaption> </figure>  Kali and Khrodikali portrays the fierce Hindu goddess using mineral pigment, gold, and watercolour on silk. Adorned with a garland of skulls, Kali is a fearless embodiment of feminine strength, and a potent reminder of the divine life force. The Little White Vulture has softer and delicate tones in which the goddess glows with power, as she soars serenely.&nbsp; The exhibition also invites reflection on caring for nature and the deep interconnectedness of all living beings, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/himalayan-tipping-points">the beauty and the fragility of our planet</a>, with Crow’s use of eco-conscious materials. Her watercolours Earth in Peril and Earth in Harmony depict the stark divide between flood and fire, yet a figure stands strong at the centre, entwined with hopeful touches of greenery and natural elements, while the latter bursts with lush life involving birds, flowers, and leaves in full bloom. Emily Avery Yoshiko Crow and Tara Di Gesu delve into both the intimate and iconic expressions. For both artists, Devi is more than art, it is an act of devotion celebrating the ineffable. Devi Till 26 July Tuesday-Thursday: 11AM-6PM Friday-Sunday: 11AM-7PM Takpa Gallery, Lazimpat&nbsp;

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The divine Devi

A <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-new-generation-of-alternative-artists">new generation of Nepali artists</a> is exploring bold narratives and experimental themes, pushing boundaries, and redefining societal conventions.&nbsp; That could be one perspective on the exhibition ‘I Am Rooted, But I Flow’ at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tsherin-sherpa-returns-home-to-takpa">Takpa Gallery</a>. Curated by Pratima Thakali, it showcases works by eight female artists who explore the interplay between identity, culture, and personal evolution. Artists Anmari Tamang, Kripa Shakya, Kripa Tuladhar, Krisha Tamrakar, Pooja Duwal, Priyanka Singh Maharjan, Sony Rai, and Sumitra Baral bring together diverse perspectives that challenge traditional narratives and invite a fresh thinking of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/culture-cannot-be-an-afterthought">Nepal’s cultural landscape</a>. These emerging female artists compel us to contemplate the evolution of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/inking-an-idenity">identity</a>, where tradition and transformation coexist in an ever-shifting cultural terrain. The title, drawn from Virginia Woolf’s The Waves, reflects the core theme: the balance between the stability of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft">our roots</a> and the fluidity of our evolving selves. Krisha Tamrakar co-director of Artudio draws inspiration from her hometown of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/patan-for-beginners">Patan</a>, and her fascination with human spaces. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation">Familiar landmarks are disappearing</a>, a theme that deeply influences her work through her series of Between Colors and Spaces. “Traditional brass utensils have begun to blend seamlessly with modern, colourful clothing in my neighbourhood,” she says, explaining her Between Colors and Spaces XXI.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250212040228_b85945a657c6eb7be39c449bfc9f24bd0dbe6786261fb7ec29bd6010526c1844.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250212040228_b85945a657c6eb7be39c449bfc9f24bd0dbe6786261fb7ec29bd6010526c1844" data-rendition-name="original" width="3599" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="Reimagined roots NT"> <figcaption>Artist Krisha Tamrakar draws inspiration from her hometown Patan in her Between Colors and Spaces series. Photo: KAILASH K SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  Tamrakar notes how metal brass utensil shops that once lined the streets have now been replaced by clothing and shoe stores, which also makes us ponder about the effects of rising consumerism. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-art-of-living">The art of living</a>, Kunda Dixit Tamrakar believes contemporary art is essential because it allows her to express herself in the present while providing a lens for future reflection. Despite the surrealist images in her work, she thinks the local community will be able to relate to it as her art integrates everyday aspects of their lives. The founder of Artudio Kailash K Shrestha reflects on the inspiration behind his space in 2010: “Back then, there were no accessible platforms for local, young, and emerging artists. There was a lack of open spaces where artists could come together to collaborate, exchange ideas, inspire one another, and offer mutual support." While Tamrakar thinks every artist’s work is valuable, she also acknowledges the underrepresentation of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/from-paintbrush-to-tattoo-needle">female artists</a> in the contemporary art scene and encourages greater inclusion. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/amalgamation-of-nepali-art">Amalgamation of Nepali art</a>, Aayusha Pokharel ‘To All The Women Who Came Before Me’ by Priyanka Singh Maharjan is another artwork series that stands out. Using embroidery on fabric, she represents the often-overlooked and unacknowledged <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepals-working-women-in-photos">work of women</a>, particularly mothers, and grandmothers, a role that is indispensable in society. ‘Amidst the Watts of Steam’ series by Pooja Duwal showcases a three-decade-long local momo shop, Na: pasa: in Bhaktapur. The ambience in which the food is made and consumed outweighs the food itself as it is more about the sense of familiarity and warmth that make customers inhabit the space.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250212040228_1cf576bd9ba9fc3eac16e80796fb176181469701fa1fceec7dd75efe3ee00f52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250212040228_1cf576bd9ba9fc3eac16e80796fb176181469701fa1fceec7dd75efe3ee00f52" data-rendition-name="original" width="1505" height="1129" loading="lazy" alt="Reimagined roots NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250212040228_5f1dfb425db65f43a3f6209a23c70a90ce5e68b9552ac704f57940283d5cd526.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250212040228_5f1dfb425db65f43a3f6209a23c70a90ce5e68b9552ac704f57940283d5cd526" data-rendition-name="original" width="1189" height="1585" loading="lazy" alt="Reimagined roots NT"> </figure>  Kripa Shakya and Sony Rai also incorporate unconventional mediums into their work. Shakya uses <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/weaving-the-fabric-of-a-new-life?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR2V6f30hX4eilYDsJKsIZVffQN3SCev4wJJxVYUxPIxY28mHcjlL9XOSmQ_aem_D-yqkaobj1DveD4Uytym3w">fabric</a>, nails, and string along with other mixed media to represent shared experiences of interpersonal conflicts and acceptance, while Rai presents intricately woven threads through aquatint to find beauty in simplicity. Sumitra Baral’s sculptures interpret <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/fusion-fashion">fashion</a> as not just an outward beauty but an expression of inner artistry and cultural heritage. Her art label reads, ‘Fashion is not just about attire; it is a symbol of identity, a definition of personality, and a living story of culture.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250212040228_32955f8db287d4177669a1bbcf5e60cade25ea36aebc6caff5756f23e8a1b7e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250212040228_32955f8db287d4177669a1bbcf5e60cade25ea36aebc6caff5756f23e8a1b7e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1147" height="1529" loading="lazy" alt="Reimagined roots NT"> </figure>  ‘I Am Rooted, But I Flow’ gives a voice to fluid, multifaceted experiences of how our identities are shaped by both deep-rooted traditions and the transformative forces of personal growth. I Am Rooted, But I Flow 8 February - 8 March Takpa Gallery &nbsp;

Reimagined roots

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05c49c7e80680e0a5f27jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1142" height="640"/><figcaption>Photos: SAGLO SAMAJ</figcaption></figure>Janakpur, the birthplace of Sita and the cradle of the Mithila civilisation, is seeing a revival of its heritage, culture and traditional art.The origin of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8294#.YN_dOy8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mithila art</a> is rooted in the legend of King Janak ordering his subjects to paint walls of homes to welcome Lord Ram when he came to ask for his daughter Sita’s hand in marriage.Mithila paintings then were done at weddings, festivals and feasts using flour, clay, and cowdung. The artists were mostly the women of the family, who bore the decorative responsibility in their homes. As the art evolved, the paintings became more than a way to beautify homes — they provided women with a creative outlet to tell the stories of their lives.This centuries-old art form has now gone commercial, enabling <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/colour-play-mithila-art-janakpur,796" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">female artists</a> to hone skills passed down from one generation of mothers to the next generation of their daughters. This now gives them financial independence, recognition and respect within Nepal and, increasingly, across the world.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nation-bhaktapur,597">Bhaktapur’s Mithila influence</a>, Bhaskar Koirala<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05c69c7e80680e0a5f28jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="807">Madhumala Mandal was born and raised in Kuwa village near here, where Mithila culture is as ingrained into young girls as household duties and responsibilities. Guided by her grandmother and mother, Mandal would paint pictures of deities to decorate the doors and walls of her house.But her interest in the traditional draughtsmanship soon stretched beyond the walls of her home, she would make shapes out of clay and paint idols on trips to the village mela. <figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05c99c7e80680e0a5f29jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“Even while I was out herding cattle and doing farm work, I was always drawing idols and shapes on the ground,” she recalls.Mandal would eventually have a family of her own, but she retained her passion for Mithila art. She now works at the Women's Development Centre in Janakpur where she creates Mithila paintings on canvas.“It took many years for me to convince family and friends that I was doing the right thing,” she explains.Mandal’s four brothers went to school, but as the sole daughter in the family, she was excluded. Having learnt to be independent from a young age and now with income of her own, she supports her own daughter’s education."The income and respect I earned through my artwork gave me the courage and the means to support my daughter,” she says. “This is the greatest achievement of my life.”Her days of drawing shapes in the mud long behind her, Mandal’s art now stays with traditional motifs but is almost impressionistic. Her work has been exhibited in the US and Hong Kong, and accent the walls of many homes across the world.The ancient Mithila kingdom spanned territory that now lies on both sides of the India Nepal border. Recently, there has been a renaissance of Mithila literature, dance forms and art.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05cc9c7e80680e0a5f2ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="804"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Acclaimed Mithila artist Mithileshwari Devi Karna was born and raised in Bihar’s Madhubani district and settled in Janakpur after marriage, grew up learning the Mithila art form from her mother in India.Karna used to train artists at the Women's Development Centre and faced similar experiences of societal pressure as many other women like Mandal in the Tarai who have chosen to become artists.Her community expressed disapproval when she prepared to travel overseas for an exhibition of her art. “People are always going to judge and make comments,” she says dismissively, “but I stood my ground, and went to Japan.”The steadfast pursuit of her art has earned her respect, financial security, and most importantly, self-satisfaction. Now, the 65, Karna was recently honoured by the Nepal Academy of Fine Arts and now only paints as a hobby. Even so, she is never without a paintbrush and canvas within reach.The popularity of Mithila art and handicrafts spread across the world after the 1980s due to Professor Rajendra Bimal and American artist Claire Burkert, who meticulously documented all the existing Mithila murals in Janakpur.Together, they established the Women's Development Center here in 1992 and trained women in Mithila art for the first time in Nepal, making sure that artists were financially independent through their art, and the techniques were preserved.As a result, the women who have received training and worked in the Centre have played a role in making Mithila art famous not only within Nepal but all over the world.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/modern-mithila-art-that-bares-injustice/">Modern Mithila art that bares injustice</a>, Nunuta RaiSunaina Thakur is among those who institutionalised and promoted Mithila art internationally. Thakur organised Mithila art exhibitions in India, Japan, and the US, and now runs her own art gallery in Janakpur where she employs and trains 30 female artists in the techniques as well as in running an art business.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05cf9c7e80680e0a5f2bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="800"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05d29c7e80680e0a5f2cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“I have been constantly trying to mobilise unrecognised talent to empower artists and encourage gender equality, both through recruitment efforts and through the art itself,” says Thakur, “I now want to pass on what I know to the next generation of women.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05d59c7e80680e0a5f2djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Among the artists employed at Thakur’s gallery is Binita Devi Sah, who recently earned her first-ever paycheque through her own Mithila paintings. Family obligations and responsibilities towards her children had confined Sah at home for almost three decades, but when her sons completed their education. It opened the door for her to finally pursue her own interests.“I stepped out of my house 26 years after getting married and earned Rs12,000 through my work. I have not stopped sharing my happiness with other people even as my sons continue to tease me about it,” smiles a proud Sah. “We never thought that this art, which we learned to make as children, could be a means for earning a livelihood.”The Mithila museum at the Janaki temple has also played an important role in documenting and conserving Mithila art. The museum, established under the leadership of Mahant Ramat Peshwar Das, houses Mithila paintings, sculptures, murals, decorative items as well as Maithili music and hymns that showcase the rich history of the art form.Satish Shah, director of the Women's Development Centre, agrees that Mithila art in Nepal has not been able to evolve as much as it has in India where there are more well-equipped institutions. Moreover, the is Center is not as influential as it once was, and has become a cause for concern about the future of Mithila art and artists. The pandemic has made working conditions worse in the last two years, and it is difficult to pay the 40 artists employed.Yet, even as they hope for support from the local and state governments, Shah and Karna both acknowledge that elected officials in Janakpur and Kathmandu do not understand the importance of Mithila art and culture."The government must invest in preserving this institution as well as Mithila art,” says Shah, adding that leaders could start by displaying the paintings in their offices.Mithila art featured heavily during weddings, festivals and celebrations, and even in items of daily use in Janakpur city until two decades ago. The artwork decorating the streets of the city included depictions of ancient earthen houses, artistic interpretations of the traditional jhizhiya dance, daily household items, and vibrantly painted birds. But with modern life, the practice is slowly fading.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/mithila-representations-of-kathmandus-metamorphosis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">S C Suman</a>, former head of the Department of the Folk Arts at the Nepal Academy of Fine Arts, says the reason is that cement houses have replaced the clay walls where the paintings were done. Nepali galleries now import Indian Mithila paintings and pass them off as originals.“While commercialisation to a certain extent is necessary, hyper-commercialisation can also make it difficult to preserve Mithila art,” he says. “Nepali art is incomplete without Mithila art.”_________________<h2>Crossborder Mithila civilisation</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05d89c7e80680e0a5f2ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="720">Mithila art is the cultural heritage of the entire Mithila region, which was a single kingdom before being divided after the 1816 Sugauli Treaty. And while Colonial India got a bigger chunk of the state, Nepal retained 25% of the territory, including the capital of Mithila in Janakpur where the art form originated.When the state of Mithila was divided, the art form began to be referred to as Madhubani art in India. But Mithila and Madhubani art are one and the same, explains Sunaina Thakur.“As in Mithila art, Madhubani art, too, depicts the marriage of Sita and Ram, and the two art forms have the same style,” she adds. “The difference is that Madhubani art is more well known internationally than Mithila art.”Mithila art conservationist and campaigner Sudarshan Lal Karna says that the art form has not developed, or been promoted in Nepal to the extent that it has been in India, where it was first propagated in 1966.The then Union Minister of Bihar, Lalit Narayan Mishra, who was familiar with the art form, introduced his foreign guests to Mithila paintings. They in turn were amazed how similar they were to Picasso’s paintings.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05db9c7e80680e0a5f2fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“That marked the beginning of the institutional development of Madhubani art in India,” says Karna, while there was no progress in Janakpur. The Women's Development Centre is one of very ew Nepali organisations that actively works to promote and nurture Mithila art.“But although the evolution of the art in Nepal is slower, the quality of the talent with the two nations are at par with each other,” notes Karna, who would like Mithila art to be included in the school curriculum, and not just in Province 2.

Vibrant Mithila art thrives in Nepal

The pale green ice on the top of the lake gleams in the pale January sunlight. The dark waters beneath are visible through the translucent frozen surface. This is Thulagi Glacial Lake at the foot of Mt Manaslu in central Nepal, classified as one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up">most dangerous lakes </a>to appear in the Himalaya due to climate heating.&nbsp; The place is breathtaking not just because of its 4,050m altitude, but the scenery all around. The beauty belies the threat this expanding lake poses downstream along the Marsyangdi Valley. &nbsp; The lake lies at the terminus of the 4.5km long Thulagi Glacier. The local Gurung inhabitants call it Dona Tal. They say it started appearing in the 1960s. Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung, 47, has been ferrying trekkers to the spot for about 20 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>MELTING MOUNTAINS: Thulagi Glacial Lake in Manang has been identified among 47 lakes in Nepal at risk of an outburst flood because of climate breakdown. All photos: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Yaks graze below Thulagi Himal (7,059m) and Mt Manaslu (8,163m) along the Dona Khola that drains the lake.</figcaption> </figure>  “Dona used to be small, but it has now grown bigger,” he says, gesturing to how the glacier has receded and shrunk. Trekkers used to be able to go to the other side, but now the glacier is riddled with ponds and boulders falling off the moraine that make it dangerous.&nbsp; Gurung adds rather matter-of-factly: “The lake will burst sooner or later.”&nbsp; Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) has been studying Thulagi for the past two decades. Topographic maps from the 1960s and early satellite images show the lake being much smaller.&nbsp; When the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-resource-curse">Marsyangdi Hydropower Project</a> project was being built in 1994, the German Institute of Geology and Natural Resources with the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology measured the lake to be already 2km in length. More recent surveys show the lake has increased its size since then to more than 1 sq km. &nbsp; The lake is among 47 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/meltpools-in-the-himalaya">dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal and Tibet </a>&nbsp;identified by ICIMOD in 2020 due to its size, the risk of landslides and avalanches, and the gradual collapse of the lake’s ice-core moraine dam.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung has been taking trekkers up to Thulagi Lake for 20 years.</figcaption> </figure>  In 2018 a team of glaciologists led by Umesh K Haritasya <a href="https://www.mdpi.com/2072-4292/10/5/798">published a journal article</a> about the evolution of three glacial lakes including Thulagi, Lower Barun, and Imja. Even back in 1976, Thulagi was twice the size of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Diverting-danger,3172">Imja glacial lake</a> in the Khumbu and six times the size of the Lower Barun. The team measured the lake’s depth at 79m, and calculated that it held 36.1 million m3 of water. Since then, Thulagi has been growing at a slower rate than the other two lakes because it is shielded by shadows of mountains. There is also not as much glacial calving in the narrow valley.&nbsp; Nonetheless, scientists and experts have long warned that a Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) from Thulagi poses a big risk to four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and settlements like Besisahar and Dumre (map).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504" data-rendition-name="original" width="2076" height="1444" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi map"> </figure>  The lake feeds into Dona Khola, a tributary of the Marsyangdi where the 49.9MW Dona Khola hydropower project is being built at a cost of Rs10 billion. Another 42MW Super Dona Khola project is planned on the river. “One of the trigger points that could lead to a glacial lake outburst could be the steep lateral moraine, which might be weakened by rapidly melting permafrost,” says Scott Watson, a University of Leeds researcher who was part of the team that conducted the 2018 study. Locals are already witnessing what Watson describes. They say that it was easy to reach Thulagi’s headwaters even until a few years ago, but that is now dangerous because of ice and rockfalls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1426" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>The 50MW Upper Marsyangdi Hydropower Project station in Lamjung. A Thulagi Lake outburst would damage four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and its tributaries.</figcaption> </figure>  GLOF WARNING&nbsp; Glaciologist Rijan Bhakta Kayastha has been studying Thulagi since 1994, and was part of a team that discovered that the lake’s terminal moraine was made up of rocky soil on top and ice at its core.&nbsp; In 2020, Kayastha's team published a study that modelled the route of a possible GLOF. They found that if the lake burst, it would take 2.5 hours to reach Dharapani, and 4 hours to reach Bahundanda 39km downstream. The surge would be 13.7m high at Dharapani and 15m by the time it reached Taal, the village most at risk because it is situated only a few metres above the Marsyangdi. ‘Considering the size of the Thulagi glacial lake and its dam, it seems unlikely that a rock fall or avalanche would cause the lake to breach the moraine dam,” concluded the study. “But an earthquake or climate change would require a separate study. At present, there is no immediate or imminent threat of this glacier bursting.” MEMORIES OF 2021 Across Manang valley, residents are haunted by the memories of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">2021 flood on the Marsyangdi</a> that swept away parts of Chame, Dharapani, Naso, and Taal villages.&nbsp; Kamarkali Gurung, grew up on the banks of the Marsyangdi in Dharapani, and had never imagined that the tranquil river she knew could become such a monster. She had saved up to build her own three-story property with 17 rooms.&nbsp; Her family was away that June evening when the flood swept away her hotel. “Not even a spoon remained, everything was gone,” says Kamarkali. “Losing the hotel hurt like losing a loved one. The Marsyangdi flows through my house now, I can never go back.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>SURVIVORS: Kamarkali Gurung's hotel was swept away by the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi. She now operates her hotel from a rented house in Dharapani.</figcaption> </figure>  Surendra Gurung, also a hotelier, was in Dharapani the night of the flood, and can still remember the fear as the river roared towards the village. “I did not know if I would live or die,” he says.&nbsp; Sirantal village was merely 10m above the Marsyangdi, and was completely destroyed by the flood. Thirty-two people were rescued by army helicopters, and most of the families have now relocated to Taal.&nbsp; One of them is Singha Bahadur Gurung who also ran a lodge for 20 years. “We did not have to buy anything except rice, the soil in Sirantal was so fertile,” he remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Singha Bahadur Gurung operated a lodge in Sirantal before the flood swept it away in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  Marsyangdi now flows through where Singha Gurung’s village used to be. “Ever since the flood, I am terrified every time it rains from June to August,” he says.&nbsp; The 2021 flood was during the monsoon, and was caused by unusually heavy rainfall in the catchment. A GLOF on the Marsyangdi would be much more destructive. Roshni Ghale, 46, runs a hotel in Taal, and escaped with her family to a nearby cave as the flood engulfed nearby homes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Roshni Ghale spent six months after the 2021 flood rebuilding her hotel in Taal. Tourism has steadily picked up in the four years since the flood. </figcaption> </figure>  “We spent the next six months after the flood rebuilding our lives, going to bed hungry many a night,” she recalls. In the four years since, tourism has picked up again, but the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unseen-wounds-of-climate-disasters"> community is still traumatised</a>. In the wake of the floods, the government had begun talks to rehabilitate and repatriate the community, but until now, they have been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/from-one-disaster-to-the-next">empty promises</a>. In any case, the people here, most of them experienced hoteliers whose livelihood depends on tourism, are unwilling to uproot their lives and start over elsewhere.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Most of the survivors of the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi from villages like Sirantal have relocated to the upstream village of Taal, which itself was hit by a monsoon flood in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  DISASTER PREPAREDNESS Even though studies have assessed the risk of GLOFs in Manang and across Nepal, and warned about the damage that such floods could cause, it took until 2021 for early warning systems to be installed on the banks of the Marsyangdi and in the town of Taal.&nbsp; But beyond that, there has been little preparedness. Early warning systems and disaster preparedness are necessary not just along the Marsyangdi but also at and around Thulagi itself, say experts. Locals here are becoming increasingly aware of the risk posed by the expanding lake up the valley, but are reluctant to leave homes and communities that they have lived in for generations. The hydropower projects on the Dona Khola promises jobs, and the local government is upgrading the hiking trail to Thulagi Lake which has become a tourist attraction. “Manang now gets <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/too-little-snow-too-much-rain">too little snow and too much rain</a>, and the Marsyangdi charts its own course,” says Min Rashi Gurung, chair of Ward-1 of Naso rural municipality, where Thulagi is located. &nbsp; But help may be on the way.Last year, the Green Climate Fund (GCF) approved a $36.1 million grant to help Nepal reduce risk of GLOFs in Thulagi and four other glacial lakes. The project is managed by the government and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). The project is set to begin next fiscal year, and will reduce the water level in the four glacial lakes including Thulagi, similar to what was done in Imja and Tso Rolpa, says Dinkar Kayastha at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology. &nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism - Nepal

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

This is the 81st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I went to Australia in 2008 because everyone was headed there. It was my first time leaving the country and my first job. My college helped me find work as a kitchen helper at a Brisbane restaurant.&nbsp; I did not know that being a kitchen helper meant washing dishes. I was young and did not know how to wash dishes or how to handle the steam, the hot water, and the busy kitchen. The utensils were thrown at the dishwashing station continuously, and water splashed on my face. My shoes and clothes were always wet. It was an on-call job. A couple of days into the job, I was asked to come in when I was at the movies. I refused. They fired me. That was that. I then worked on a farm, picking lemons and oranges. The lemon work was particularly hard because I would get cuts all over my hands. This hustle was not for me.&nbsp; Within a year in Australia, I decided to return to Nepal because the foreign life did not suit me. After spending eight months in Nepal, reality sank in. Nepal was not all that great either. I went back to Australia. On the plane, I befriended a Nepali woman who was homesick and a first time traveler. At the immigration in Australia, the officer noticed my long absence and started interrogating me. He noticed the Nepali woman waiting for me and asked who she was. Without thinking I lied that she was my girlfriend. That seemed to do the trick because he did not want us to be separated. He stamped my passport. She went her way. I went mine.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f" data-rendition-name="original" width="987" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81 NT"> </figure>  In Sydney, I again found a dishwashing job at a fine dining restaurant. A Sri Lankan colleague helped me learn the job. The pace at which I had to do the dishes was insane but I got the hang of it in two weeks. I always dreamt of one day wearing the chef’s white coat. It commanded respect, I could tell. In addition to becoming good at my job washing dishes, I also had good language and networking skills so I built good relationships with colleagues. There was a need for a pizza chef at the restaurant. It was expensive to hire someone new, and they asked me if I was up for the job. I said yes even though I knew nothing about making pizzas. My Italian colleagues coached me and before I knew it, I became better than others at the job. Soon, I realised that I did not just want to make pizzas. Whatever I wanted to learn, I just asked seniors to take me under their wings and I would help without pay. They would agree but still pay me. It wasn’t a strategy per se, I genuinely wanted to learn. At some point, a Japanese sous chef in my restaurant and I had coincidentally applied to the same restaurant, and there, under him, I got to learn even more. Working with a Japanese chef is really difficult, but you learn a lot. He would sometimes even hold my hand with tongs dipped in hot water when I screwed something up. I worked in a few restaurants after this and was earning well. When one of my colleagues, a dishwasher, was let go unfairly, I decided to leave because I did not want to be a quiet bystander to this act. I returned to Nepal immediately after this.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 82"> </figure>  I started a restaurant called Ghumti, but it was struggling. The location of the restaurants was not good and it failed. I bought another restaurant in Darbar Marg. I was managing two restaurants when Covid hit. The rent kept piling up, and there was no revenue. I took a huge loss. I gave them up and returned to Chitwan and started making migration plans. I came across a job vacancy for Alba in Qatar by the famous Enrico Crippa. I still remember the heat when I got out of the airport in Doha, it was like entering an oven. Thankfully, I had a Nepali roommate who showed me around and helped me adjust.&nbsp; The hotel was still under construction, but training had started. We worked really hard for the opening and things went well. In 2023, we even won the Best MENA Restaurant award. But at some point in 2024, the international Crippa chain decided to leave.&nbsp; Some colleagues including the head chef left and I suddenly was put in charge. I had some head chef experience from Australia and had previous experience working in high pressure environments, so I stepped up. We had to start from scratch again, this time as Alba in Raffles, Doha.&nbsp; The name of our restaurant comes from the Alba white truffle, which is the best available and is expensive, selling at around 40,000 QAR per kg. We had heard the official announcement that the Michelin was coming to Qatar, and we worked even harder.&nbsp; Michelin inspections are strict, highly secretive and you have no idea you are being investigated. Even then, we were up for the game. We were ‘selected’ which meant we had potential.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="697" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81"> </figure>  I went to the award ceremony with low expectations. But because they announce the name alphabetically, Alba came first. I was very happy and felt validated. Being recognised as a Michelin one star restaurant is a huge achievement for us. My MD reminded me of a promise I had made of getting a Michelin tattoo if we got the award. I guess I will get it done when I come to Nepal next. My plan is to get a tattoo that captures my journey right from the dishwashing days.&nbsp; I have cooked for Obama, Beckham, Kaka, Trump, 50 Cent, Lindsay Lohan, you name it, because our restaurant is visited by high profile guests. At first, I used to feel the pressure. Now I view all guests as the same. The food you make is the same no matter who is eating it. I love the work. In fact, it does not feel like work. The rush in the kitchen, the atmosphere, the heat, the scent, I live for it. When I am not working, I get bored. It is like an addiction without which I get withdrawals. I want to contribute in introducing Nepali cuisine and ingredients in the worldstage. Nepalis overseas have a lot of potential in the hospitality sector. But my advice to youth is to focus on building a strong base and invest in learning. It is increasingly common for Nepalis to job hop for a salary jump. While other skills like language are also important, it is the hard skills that we really need to focus on. In our field of work, it is the plate that needs to speak.

Sky is the limit

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

We walk past familiar neighbourhoods and wonder how much it has changed. An ongoing exhibition at The Kalā Salon titled Changing Times by The Pagoda Group aims to do just that -- capture ever-changing society within a captivating display of colourful canvases. Brick-lined houses, local tea shops, ancient temples, quiet devotion are themes in Pradhumna Shrestha’s series Shangri-La, much of which is an imagined past filled with nostalgia of the place he grew up in. By keeping people out of the frame, he allows space for what he calls a divine aura to surface.&nbsp; “I was born and brought up here and my canvases echo the nostalgia of cities like Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur which are dense with myth, folklore, religion, and an ever-present divinity. All of this is truly what is ours, and we must treasure it,” says Shrestha. “Whatever I truly felt in my heart, I translated it into my work.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1036" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  The swirling clouds that drift across Shrestha’s canvases borrow from thangka and paubha traditions, lending the scenes a sense of mysticism and otherworldliness. Within this dreamscape are red circular forms which represent wheels of chariots. &nbsp;The presence of divinity dominates from above, its presence asserted in soft blue brushstrokes below, as if the deity’s gaze itself has seeped into the land. Gods linger as guardians and temples hum with enigma in his paintings. In his much earlier work, Cultural Bond, a lakhe masked dancer bursts forward in vibrant red, dancing against a backdrop of molten gold clouds. The lakhe’s trance signifies protection and where it steps, the evil cannot follow. Hence, the skulls that surround but never fall beneath its feet but, one leg hangs suspended in midair, suggesting uncertainty, raising questions.&nbsp; Is this a symbol of culture and tradition, secure, or is it endangered by modernity? The work captures a society at a crossroads, honouring tradition while grappling with the risk of drifting away from it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="979" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In Panchatatva Mandala, Pasang Bikram Lama fuses two mandalas into a single visual meditation, suggesting unity where each colour carries symbolic weight: yellow evokes the soil of the earth, blue flows as water, red burns with fire, and black opens into the vastness of the spatial sky. Together, these elements form a quiet cosmology that speaks of creation and dissolution, of life folding endlessly into death and returning again. Says Lama, “Everyone has a mandala of their own being, and the elements represent their cycle of life.” Mala Shrestha’s works Water of the Divine Mother and The Spirit of Serenity unfold in a dreamy and delicate fusion of nature and religion, suggesting that divine forms are not separate from the natural world. Trees and branch-like motifs appear as origins of sacred sculptures and spiritual presences.&nbsp; Her goddesses, adorned in alluring ornaments, emerge from trunks and streams, painted in aqua green, pink pastels, and rustic browns, as if grown rather than created, affirming that the divine is inseparable from nature and present everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Kishor Nakarmi’s Essence of Nepal, where Gautam Buddha appears embedded within leaves, brick walls, birds, and wilderness, dissolving boundaries between the sacred and the earthly. These canvases radiate calm and their subtlety is enriched by finely observed details. Similarly, Rudra Bahadur Pun captures the vitality of mask dances and ritual movements found in the monasteries of Mustang, weaving together tradition, landscape, and daily life. The essence of the exhibition comes together in Roshan Pradhan’s works. His paintings reflect a contemporary tension where technology collides with ancestral myth and the power of tradition. A fierce Garud rises within a landscape saturated by technological apparatuses, while at its feet a human form representing AI clings tightly, attempting to assert control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In another work, Bhairab confronts a human embodiment of AI in a theatrical standoff, with the deity ultimately prevailing, reaffirming endurance over technological dominance. The human figures in Pradhan’s paintings are drawn from life with his friends volunteering as models, photographed and later translated onto canvas.&nbsp; “Technology has taken over our lives. Many can probably not even imagine life without it now. But, culture, too, is integral to human existence. Our life would be much different without our culture; it is a part of us,” notes the artist. Rather than framing technology as purely antagonistic, Pradhan explores coexistence, and while acknowledging its destructive potential, he affirms his belief in the power of our myths and traditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Pradhan adds, “These paintings are also an archive of its time. Viewers centuries from now may read these paintings as records of the age we inhabit. While technology is important, cultural continuity must walk alongside it. Festivals must still be celebrated, oral traditions must be sustained, and our roots must be remembered, especially by future generations.” Curator Sophia L Pande says the exhibition took more than a year to put together:&nbsp; “It responds to a shifting world, seeking to capture both transformation and the quiet fear of loss. Its themes move fluidly across environment, technology, artificial intelligence, and climate change, reflecting the diverse yet interconnected practices of the artists, providing a glimpse into the evolving landscape of contemporary Nepali art.” Changing Times The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11AM-8PM