Kathmandu Valley, once known for its bumper harvests of rice, has seen declining production because urban expansion is devouring once fertile rice fields.&nbsp; There are still some terraces on the outskirts of the city that have rice fields, but even these are threatened by new settlements. The same is true of Pokhara Valley, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/pokhara-tries-to-save-its-famous-paddy" target="_blank">home to Pokhreli, Jetha Buda</a> and other brands of indigenous rice. The middle of Asar is time for rice planting, and 29 June was the supposed to be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/not-so-soon-monsoon/" target="_blank">National Paddy Plantation Day</a>. It is a festival not just for transplanting paddy seedlings on water-logged fields, but also for jubiliation and merrymaking. This year, there was not much to celebrate on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-celebrates-paddy-planting-day/" target="_blank">Paddy Planting Day</a>. Only 10% of farms across Nepal have transplanted paddy seedlings, whereas the normal figure for end-June is double that.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100624_89fa0f1ab01aa249120c080bda65230d98bfd9799adf6f066b16c56cc1bae611.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240630100624_89fa0f1ab01aa249120c080bda65230d98bfd9799adf6f066b16c56cc1bae611" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice plantation Nepal"> <figcaption>An excavator makes way for land plotting even as a child prepares to plant rice saplings in Bhaktapur's Sipadol this week. </figcaption> </figure>  The monsoon has been starting weeks later than its usual arrival in Nepal in mid-June, which many experts <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-hits-himalayan-rice" target="_blank">blame on climate breakdown</a>. This year, the rains actually arrived a week early in the aftermath of Cyclone Remal, and unleashed floods and landslides in eastern Nepal in mid-June, while the western half of the country was enduring a prolonged drought. The clouds did advance up to central Nepal, but the rains fizzled out. When the monsoon did arrive in Kathmandu Valley on 27 June, it had been too little too late. Kathmandu Valley usually received 250mm of rain in June, this year the figure so far has been only 125mm. The chronic lack of subsidised fertiliser during the planting season due to an inefficient government procurement and delivery mechanism also meant that many farmers were not ready to transplant paddy even if the rains came. Rice is grown in Kathmandu and other mountaion valleys, in the Tarai and up to 3,200m in Jumla, which is famous for its nutritious <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/himalayan-red-rice-is-red-hot" target="_blank">red Marasi rice</a>.&nbsp; The Tarai is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-rice-economy" target="_blank">Nepal’s rice basket</a>, producing most of its paddy. Although the plains cover 15% of Nepal’s area, 53% of the population lives there. Here too, settlements along highways and major intersections are eating into rice fields.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100632_051ccb4df85ee10f1f44fc67a32b3d6666bf438c00b9f5a51ef2df5fab5a0b01.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240630100632_051ccb4df85ee10f1f44fc67a32b3d6666bf438c00b9f5a51ef2df5fab5a0b01" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice planttion in Nepal"> <figcaption>Kathmandu's unrestrained growth as seen from Halchok in 2020.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100632_68dff2295cf039e50ad743ece4bb1473fd55e9c36e571f92259a882a073b558e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240630100632_68dff2295cf039e50ad743ece4bb1473fd55e9c36e571f92259a882a073b558e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice production in nepal"> <figcaption>In this photo from 2021, hills in the outskits of Kathmandu Valley have been cleared for land development. </figcaption> </figure>  So far this year, rice planting has started in only 3% of the area of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/grain-drain" target="_blank">Madhes Province</a> because of the delayed rains and a prolonged heatwave. The province produces a quarter of Nepal’s rice in a normal year. The western Tarai has been particularly badly hit by a heatwave that lasted into June with daytime temperatures soaring to 45°Celsius and staying there. Rainfed farms have not planted rice, and those that used to pump water from tubewells have not been able to do so because of a falling watertable.&nbsp; Outmigration from rural areas and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/agroecology-nepal-s-answer-to-climate-change" target="_blank">falling rice production</a> has become a chicken-or-egg story: is rice production falling because people are turning away from farming, or is declining paddy production driving people away from agriculture? The annual Rice Day has therefore become not a time for celebration, but a reminder of how much <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/are-nepalis-really-eating-more-rice/" target="_blank">Nepal is more dependent on the import</a> of rice than before. Nepal spent Rs35 billion last year to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-agro-imports-at-all-time-high/" target="_blank">import rice and paddy</a>, which was a slight decline from the previous year, but is still more than all its exports. Nepalis are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/are-nepalis-really-eating-more-rice" target="_blank">eating more rice</a> than ever before as people turn away from traditional grains like millet and buckwheat, and because of a falling poverty rate as well as the spread of the road network.&nbsp; Still, the country’s population growth rate is outpacing increase in rice harvests. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-price-of-rice" target="_blank">Rice productivity</a> has hit an all-time high of 3.8 tons/hectare with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nepal,2378" target="_blank">irrigation and mechanisation</a>, but total production is not increasing as much because of a decrease in area under rice cultivation. Nepal once used to be a rice exporting country. If current trends continue, Nepal will be spending nearly everything it earns from remittances in importing petroleum products and rice.

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Pouring concrete on rice fields

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5fc9c7e80680e07bc36jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>It is nothing new that Nepal’s farmers this year faced an acute fertiliser shortage. That there were kickbacks involved is also not a revelation. This will not be the first time there is a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-rise-of-rice-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">paddy production shortfall</a> because of the lack of fertiliser.More importantly, it is bound to happen again next year because there is no political will to tackle the root of the problem --  collusion between government officials and their cronies to siphon the allocated budget and profit from payoffs.This year, the companies hired to import fertiliser, Shailung Enterprises and Honiko Multiple, defaulted on their contracts, citing the lockdown as an excuse. That the powerful owner of one of these companies is the landlord of NCP chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal has not gone unnoticed.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-rise-of-rice-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rise of rice in Nepal</a>, Krishna Dev Joshi and Santosh Upadhyay<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-agro-imports-at-all-time-high/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal agro imports all time high</a>, Ramesh KumarLast week, the Patan High Court stayed an order by the government’s Agriculture Inputs Company Limited (AICL) to confiscate the Rs50 million deposit of Shailung and Honiko for failing to supply imported urea in time.Despite a healthy monsoon this year, Nepal’s rice production is not expected to rise because the consignment of chemical fertiliser did not arrive at the start of the paddy season. India has frozen export of fertiliser, and Prime Minister K P Oli made an SOS call to Bangladesh Presient Sheikh Hasina on 1 September to “loan” Nepal 50,000 tons of fertiliser.By the time the fertiliser arrives, the rice will be ready for harvest. Besides, Nepal’s annual fertiliser demand is up to 800,000 tons. Failure to apply urea layering on time worried farmers across the country as the transplanted paddy fields did not receive required nutrients.Critics say the lockdown is not an excuse. Because after March, the government made no visible effort to have the consignment released from Kolkata’s customs warehouse, did not have adequate buffer stock, and failed to line up alternative sources in time for paddy transplanting in late June. Farmers therefore crowded fertiliser distribution centres for the limited supplies available, risking Covid-19 infection.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Back to the future of farming</a>, EditorialDespite lofty promises made by the ruling Nepal Communist Party (NCP) to aim for agriculture self-sufficiency, the fertiliser scandal tells a different story. Nepal’s chemical fertiliser output is negligible, leaving it completely reliant on imports, mostly from India.The government’s singular focus on chemical fertiliser also means that alternatives with organic nutrients have been side-lined (see box, below). Farmers are trapped because they have abandoned traditional seeds for imported hybrids which require chemical inputs to yield optimum harvest.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pandemic-offers-chance-to-revive-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Covid-19 crisis</a> has exposed this alarming reliance on imported chemical fertiliser, and Nepal’s inability to manufacture its own. This week, a Parliament committee instructed the government to set up plants to make Nepal self-sufficient in urea.However, feasibility studies carried out by the Investment Board Nepal with Infrastructure Development Corporation Karnataka (IDECK) show that Nepal’s domestic demand does not have the economy of scale to produce fertiliser.  A third-party evaluation of the IDECK report led by Dil Bahadur Gurung calculated that it would cost upwards of Rs72 billion to set up even a small fertiliser factory.“The reliance on natural gas piped from India or Bangladesh to these factories would add to the cost, and it would be viable only if it could produce up to 2 million tons of fertiliser a year,” says Gurung. However, talks with Bangladesh and China regarding natural gas pipelines broke down, while a proposed pipeline from Gorakhpur in India has been sidelined due to frosty bilateral relations.Using electricity to fix nitrogen from the air will be even costlier, with estimates to set up such factories tagged at upwards of Rs144 billion. It would need a new hydropower plant dedicated just to supply the fertiliser factory.“Such electricity-powered fertiliser factories are only found in some countries and are not understood to be cost-effective,” Gurung explained.The small amount of domestically-produced chemical fertiliser is 25% costlier than the imported product, and India’s planned construction of a urea plant at Gorakhpur with an annual output of 800,000 tons would not make it viable for Nepal to even export its surplus fertiliser.The chronic shortage of fertiliser in Nepal is due to a government duopoly controlled by the parastatals Salt Trading Limited and Agricultural Inputs Company Limited (AICL) with an import ratio of 30:70 of the total stock. With the freeze in Indian imports, AICL is now inviting bids for the transport of the chemical fertiliser on loan from Bangladesh. Nepal’s market is also diluted by smuggled fertiliser and informal imports through the open border.Former secretary of the Ministry of Agriculture Uttam Kumar Bhattarai says the surest way to prevent a fertiliser crisis in the coming years is to stockpile it so that it can meet demand during times of shortage and until Nepal become self-sufficient.https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=28&amp;v=yOc1AmgWreM&amp;feature=emb_logoWhy not go organic?The ruling Nepal Communist Party (NCP) government has often proclaimed its commitment to organic agriculture. But it is just rhetoric, the government has made no policies to favour organic fertiliser and regulation of pesticides. In fact, it continues to subsidise imported chemical fertiliser to the tune of Rs11 billion this fiscal year.Farmers who use high-yield hybrid seeds are dependent on chemical fertiliser for higher yield and the subsidy. Many say organic fertiliser would not give the same yield.This is disputed by organic fertiliser manufacturers like Gandaki Urja in Pokhara, which say the right kind of organic fertiliser and nitrogen-fixation intercropping can improve paddy yield.With its daily production of up to 5 tons, Gandaki Urja is the largest producer of organic fertiliser in the country. Its founder Kushal Gurung says the government subsidy has made organic fertiliser less attractive to farmers.“Even when the market faces a severe shortage, demand for our fertiliser has not changed,” says Gurung. “Organic fertiliser remains limited to rooftop farming and gardening because the government has made agro-chemicals cheaper.”Despite the subsidies, cartelling, middlemen and customs charges cause a sharp markup in price to Rs1,500 per kg of chemical urea. Gandaki Urja sells directly to farmers at a uniform price of Rs30 per kg, yet it struggles for a foothold in the market.Gurung says government subsidy has “ruined the habit” of farmers, driving them away from organic products even during this crisis. Meanwhile, Gandaki Urja’s stockpile has grown to 200 tons after failing to find buyers, and has even been forced to scale down on production despite the fertiliser demand.Another entrepreneur Sitaram Pahadi has invested Rs5 million to set up a plant to make organic fertiliser from animal waste in Sindhuli district. The raw waste is collected from many Tarai districts and goes to collection pits where it stays for 30 days until ready. All of Sitaram's activities have been people-run, with no real assistance from any governing body.Kushal Gurung says the government could have easily bought up the stock of organic fertiliser and distributed it to farmers to meet the shortfall. That would have cost only Rs300 million – a fraction of what the government is spending on chemical fertiliser import this year.He adds: “Organic fertiliser has long-term environmental benefits as it increases the fertility and productivity of soil, while harvests are healthy and safe to consume. Organic fertiliser also encourages local production and consumption.”Pahadi agrees that organic fertiliser would be cheaper, reduce Nepal’s import bill and bring financial and ecological benefits to farmers. He adds: “There are no specialized skills to learn when making organic fertiliser, so realistically anyone can work”.

Corruption and Nepal’s chronic fertiliser crisis

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21c19c7e80680e041756jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Ratna Rani Newar does not know how much longer she can keep her vegetable farm in Thimi. Photos: TAYLOR MASON</figcaption></figure>Ratna Rani Newar grew up helping her grandparents grow vegetables in the fertile farms <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8688#.XC8OkdIza70">around Thimi</a>. Today, she is afraid her livelihood passed down through generations will be taken away.Kathmandu Valley civilisation was built on the agriculture that thrived in the alluvium of the former lakebed. But as the city expanded, the farms were steadily taken over by houses. Now, the last remaining tracts of what were once Thimi’s famous vegetable farms are also being filled over with concrete.“I have been growing vegetables in Thimi ever since I learnt to walk, but these days people don’t care about farming, they just want property to build houses,” said Newar, who is a single mother of four daughters. Her husband left her because she didn’t have a son.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21c49c7e80680e041757jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="999" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Newar’s daughters, like most of the educated younger generation of Kathmandu’s agricultural families, do not want to work in farm. But they do visit their mother every Saturday, and help sell her cauliflowers and spinach in the local market.<a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/back-to-the-land">This type of farming</a> is one of the last of its kind in Kathmandu Valley: traditional, organic and hand-grown with no help from machinery. In a couple of years farmers carrying fresh vegetables in woven baskets down the streets of Bhaktapur, calling out to customers will be a rare sight.Agronomist Bhola Man Singh Basnet who used to be a scientist at the Nepal Agricultural Research Council says Kathmandu’s farmers had developed a very successful cycle using <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/organic-basnet-gundu-kheti-bazaar,2520">crop rotation</a> to replenish the nutrients in the  soil, and keep the land fertile.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21c79c7e80680e041758jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="999"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“People from all over the world noticed our techniques and productivity,” he says, “but farming is becoming obsolete.”Nepali farmers used a special technique to grow vegetables in tiny parcels of land to sustain their families. It fertilised the soil with organic black soil and cow manure, giving the Valley’s vegetables an amazing taste full on nutrients.But, Basnet says, “Land for farming is decreasing as the population increases, so new techniques are needed to meet food needs. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/heavy-pesticide-use-and-low-consumer-awareness-affecting-public-health,1394">Chemical fertilisers</a> and green houses are being used, but the quality of these vegetables is not the same ... quality is not even considered important.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21cc9c7e80680e041759jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="999"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Basnet says the trend of building on prime agricultural land that started in Kathmandu is now spreading to other urban areas of Nepal, and younger educated people from farming families would rather work in salaried jobs.Babu Krishna is another Thimi farmer, whose children live in Australia. He says: “Farming has been in my family for generations, I have farmed all my life, but now the fields are replaced by houses. I think my generation is the last in my family that will farm.”<h2>The smart people of Piple</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21cf9c7e80680e04175ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">A Chitwan village has banned new construction in agricultural land Mukesh Pokhrel in ChitwanTwo years ago Mong Tamang sold 1.5 hectares of his farm. When the new owner built a road along the land to turn it into a new housing colony, local farmers were up in arms, and prevented it.Dhab Thapaliya sold half a hectare of his land to Kathmandu-based businessmen three years ago. But villagers again prevented houses being constructed, and Thapaliya had to return the advance he was paid.Today, 2,000 out of 3,500 households in Piple raise cattle and grow vegetables, and much of the credit goes to Nabaraj Onta, who returned from Korea after 25 years and put into practice what he learnt there working in a farm. He brought back seeds, and distributed it free among his fellow-villagers.“He has a vital role in encouraging us to take up farming and protect our land,” says Rameshwar Oli of the dairy cooperative in Piple which has a farmers’ savings and loans scheme providing low interest loans to farmers to buy seeds and buffaloes. All loans are paid in time, and the cooperative also has a livestock insurance scheme.Farmers in Piple village of Chitwan say their farms are much more valuable to grow vegetables and and raise livestock than to be converted into real estate, and have united to preserve cultivable land from being bought by developers for housing and factories.Unlike anywhere else in Nepal, they have enforced zoning criteria to classify farmlands and residential areas, and have prohibited buildings anywhere other than in areas along the road."Legally we can't interfere in decisions about private property, but there is an understanding among us to not sell cultivable land," explains Danda Raj Pandey one of the farmers who started the movement.It has been ten years since Piple people have turned to vegetable farming and animal husbandry, and turned their village into a model agricultural settlement.Pandey himself used to buy oranges wholesale in Dhading and Gorkha and sell it at the Kalimati market in Kathmandu. Today he sells vegetables and 15 litres of milk every day from his own village, and does not have to travel away from home for livelihood. He now makes Rs600,000 a year, and with his savings has expanded his farm so he can grow more.Moti Rijal was a daily wage worker until he started farming a small plot of his ancestral property. The farmer made more than Rs100,000 by selling just cabbages, and decided to expand into commercial farming. He has now leased more land from neighbours to grow other vegetable cash crops.Rama Dalakoti also grew beans in her small plot, and her farming is so intensive that in the last season she made Rs400,000 just from selling it in the market. Piple has now overtaken Gitanagar as the dairy capital of Chitwan, and local farmers sold Rs12 million worth of milk and supplied Rs10 million in vegetables to Kathmandu last year.

The vanishing land

Sometimes, we need to take a step back to realise what a tectonic movement Nepali politics witnessed this month.
In a region and world ruled by elected authoritarians, Nepalis &nbsp;went to the ballot box freely to express a collective will for change.
These faces in this group photo of the RSP’s 180 freshly-minted MPs at the ballroom of the Royal Tulip Hotel on Wednesday is symbolic of what Nepal has come through.&nbsp;
The ship of state righted itself after the September Storm, installing an interim government that held an election within six months in which voters banished obsolete politicians and their parties into oblivion.
Nepalis, fed up with the inept kakistocracy of the past three decades, took the country into a post-ideological phase — replacing Marxists, Maoists and monarchists &nbsp;with a belief in a new governing culture that rewards delivery and accountability. And they have trusted the RSP to carry it through.
Nepal’s history has never been linear, it jerks ahead in lurches. The polity also tends to take one step forward and two steps back, so the public’s great expectations is tempered by a sense of cautious optimism and guarded pessimism.
This could be the great leap forward that Nepalis have waited for and deserve, but it could also be a Gramscian interregnum in which the old is dead and the new is not yet born. We will have to wait to see whether this transitional period will also see ‘morbid symptoms’.
As disruptor-in-chief, it was the Balendra Shah ‘wave’ or ‘craze’ that propelled the RSP to power. The former Kathmandu mayor needed a party platform, and the RSP’s tainted leader Rabi Lamichhane required a booster. Nepal's voters were looking for a saviour.
Personality-wise Shah and Lamichhane are poles apart: one is Type B and the other Type A. One is enigmatic, the other phlegmatic. But yin and yang do also tend to complement each other.&nbsp;
Kathmandu’s chattering class is already making self-fulfilling prophecies about the two falling out, and are fishing for hints that they already have. Shah’s absence from the RSP’s orientation this week was taken as a clue.&nbsp;
Closing the two-day tutorial on Wednesday, Lamichhane delivered a fiery 30-minute speech that laid out the RSP’s main agenda: to function differently from the old parties, serve the people, avoid middlemen, become true lawmakers without taking the law into their own hands.&nbsp;
“The old political parties contributed to history, we will build the future with a new political contract with citizens,” he said, trying to rise over past controversies and his abrasive rhetoric to sound statesmanlike.&nbsp;
GIVE AND TAKE
Lamichhane is said to be in touch with the reclusive Shah to announce a compact cabinet next week. Its composition will be an indication of how much give-and-take there was, and whether the criteria for selecting ministers is competence or loyalty.
Will RSP ministers behave like rulers or service providers? The new government will dive right into the economic fallout of the West Asia war with soaring fuel &nbsp;prices, inflation and uncertainty about remittance inflows.
On Thursday, Gagan Thapa resigned as NC chair, taking moral responsibility for the party’s election loss. The UML’s unrepentant K P Oli does not share the same sentiment about who is responsible for his own party’s historic downfall.&nbsp;
NCP chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal, who was luckier than his cross-party cohort, is now a comparative relic in a Parliament largely comprised of freshmen and sophomore lawmakers.
But the NC, UML and NCP still control provincial and most municipal governments. The old parties could try to make things difficult for the RSP at the centre, but it is also an opportunity for them to clean up their act ahead of local elections next year.&nbsp;
Another test for the RSP will be dealing with a heavily-politicised klepto-bureaucracy which has to frontend its policy decisions. &nbsp;

People’s power

This week, the RSP held a two-day closed orientation camp for its newly elected members of Parliament. The party has also decided to assign parliamentary and Cabinet roles to leaders only after the new MPs are sworn in on 28 March.&nbsp;
This means the new prime minister and his cabinet of 15 ministers are likely to be installed closer to the Nepali New Year, and the expectation is that it will also usher in a new era of governance and politics in Nepal.&nbsp;
Between now and then, there is much speculation regarding who will become new ministers and from which camp—Balendra Shah's or Rabi Lamichanne’s. Meanwhile, the final argument in the petition against the Rabi Lamichanne case revision is set for Thursday, with a verdict expected on the same day.
“In the past, parties did anything to form coalitions and to keep them from splitting ministries and appointing anyone they wanted to, even going against the spirit of the Constitution, but the RSP doesn’t need to partake in any such activities,” says political analyst Indra Adhikari.
Adhikari notes that governance failures in the past was often the result of coalition governments formed through political bargaining that meant the primary party often had to compromise on their agenda.&nbsp;
“But nothing is stopping the party from fulfilling its election manifesto,” she says. “And if they aren’t able to deliver, we know Nepalis are prone to protests, so another revolt is also a possibility.”
Journalist and author Mohan Mainali agrees that the everyday Parliamentary proceedings should go smoothly for new government because of their majority.&nbsp;
But there are questions as to what a near two-thirds majority allows the RSP to achieve in Parliament. Its 182 seats in the Lower House allows the party to enact and amend laws without hurdles and bypass Upper House’s request for Bill revisions. But the RSP has no presence in the National Assembly, and that means that its majority in the Lower House is not enough to amend the Constitution.&nbsp;
“The Constitution poses no obstacles for the RSP to work on improving governance, development and delivery,” says Mainali. &nbsp;“If they do show some performance, it will be easier for them to go into the next election and ask for a two-thirds majority to also amend the constitution,” he adds.
The last coalition government of the UML and Nepali Congress before the GenZ protests had been built upon a primary agreement to make amendments to the Constitution. So, depending on the nature of amendments, the RSP might find some support within the National Assembly at a time when some of the older parties, such as the Nepali Congress, have committed to supporting the new government as well as internal party reforms.
“What we need is a structural overhaul, from our laws and foreign policy to economy and security apparatus, and for this the RSP needs to champion collaboration and consultation for the sake of nation building,” says Indra Adhikari. “So it all comes down to the understanding and judgment of the RSP’s leadership. If they try to go at it alone, it will lead nowhere.”
To be sure, the provincial government could also clean up their act before the next local and provincial elections, which would help the older parties to regain some of their lost footing and rebuild trust.
As it stands, RSP lawmakers will also have to learn to work with each other. Mainali notes that the RSP not being bound by one clear ideology might lead to future problems, including the rumoured animosity between party president Rabi Lamichhane and prime minister-in-waiting Balendra Shah.
“Parties that came before the RSP had an ideology, whether they followed them or not, but the RSP is made of different kinds of people,” says Mainali. “If they are not motivated by a common goal of achieving something tangible in the next five years, it might be difficult for them to stay together.”
Adds Adhikari: “Balendra and Rabi don’t seem to be compatible. Rabi has already failed when it comes to the matters of governance, and Balendra won’t carry that burden. Additionally, there is a struggle between the two in terms of party hierarchy.”
Speaking at the closing of the two-day orientation, from which Balendra Shah was noticably absent, Rabi Lamichanne said that the RSP’s image as intolerant needs to be changed, and that the country is not heading towards totalitarianism but is in the hands of good, new people.
Regardless of the assurance, the general public has seen Balendra Shah and Lamichanne’s disposition in the last several years, and analysts are worried that their personalities and ambition might lead to an environment of increased intolerance.&nbsp;
As it stands in absence of a strong opposition, the responsibility falls on the media and the civil society to be the watchdog and play an effective check and balance role.&nbsp;
“Seeing how Balendra has ignored the media so far and Rabi has made inflammatory remarks in the past, they are probably more intolerant than the likes of Trump and Modi,” says Mainali. He notes that the party does not just have technical human resource and cyber army but a large number of dedicated supporters.&nbsp;
The media must thus continue to build trust by highlighting good work, educating the public on the importance of impartial journalism in democracy and debate any Bill purposed in Parliament, Mainali adds.&nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “The media should praise the government when they do well, motivate them, but it should also point out wrongdoings without fear, and provide recommendations to do better. Otherwise, absolute power corrupts absolutely, which we have seen happen happen in America with Trump and in India with Modi, where extremism has taken over and democracy has been curtailed.”

Balancing act

The sense of sight is front, centre, and everywhere else as hundreds of eyes follow visitors while they move from one painting to the next at Nikhil Bahadur Shakya’s ongoing exhibition at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Shakya has used blank canvases as well as partially-done thangka and paintings as a base for more than 50 works on display. The exhibit takes visitors beyond the physical world into a surreal spiritual realm. Shakya strips the human body down to muscle, tendon, networks of nerves, and skeleton. But all the while, eyes are a constant presence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Artist Nikhil Bahadur Shakya with a visitor.</figcaption> </figure>  The central theme is self-reflection and the journey from one’s outward to inward self, and the works offer a glimpse into the artist’s world of mindfulness.&nbsp; Shakya grew up watching his artisan grandfather design jewellery, which he says cultivated in him an interest for art. During the Covid-19 pandemic, confronted by the fragility of life and the stark reality of death, his art took an introspective turn. The paintings have splashes of neon yellow, pink, red, orange, green, and gold, and Shakya combines them with black and white to create the human body, sunflowers, geometrical shapes, and the cosmos — turning these motifs into elements of devotion and spirituality. In Wheel of Life, Shakya adds to an incomplete thangka, contrasting traditional Buddhist devotional imagery with contemporary mosaic art to create a demon holding on to a wheel with a yin and yang symbol.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Wheel of Life (centre)</figcaption> </figure>  “I wanted to reflect the elements of life and the balance of good and bad in this painting,” explains Shakya. “I took a lot of time to complete this particular piece, but it felt as though my vision flowed out of the brush onto the canvas.” The neon colours used means that visitors can see his artwork under blue light as well, giving viewers a chance to look at a single artwork from two different perspectives. His Sunflower series draws from a field of blossoms, and the eyes stare back at visitors in an almost-hypnotic gaze. In An Ancestral Visit, Shakya goes transcendental to depict the connection of living beings to their forebears.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1431" loading="lazy" alt="sunflower painting"> </figure>  “In my father’s last days, he was unwell and often unable to eat, it left his body very frail,” explains Shakya. “An Ancestral Visit was inspired by a dream in which I saw my father as his former healthy self. That dream made me feel deeply connected to my ancestors.” In another one of his works titled Devotion, a woman prays to a Shivalinga against a background of red-and-white stripes, which was inspired by the tradition of women being at the forefront during religious and spiritual ceremonies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="devotion"> <figcaption>Devotion</figcaption> </figure>  In Sunyata, which shows a skeletal figure meditating as they are surrounded by flames, Shakya captures the chaos of the outside world with peace of the inner self. Shakya was compelled to create Sunyata when he saw a monk, his body thin and face gaunt, meditating peacefully. “Many viewers might find the painting frightening, but when they take it home, I think it will give them strength whenever they feel like they need it,” says Shakya. The exhibit also includes a gigantic painting of Masan Bhairav spread across two canvases, capturing the majesty of the original work housed at Banepa’s Chandeswori Temple. Shakya met the artist who painted it, and asked to reproduce it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Geometric figures are another recurring motif on Shakya’s creations, which he says were inspired by mathematics textbooks from his school days. He says, “Art channels the strength of our minds and brings about change in our lives. My paintings reflect the fact that we are all made up of some madness, magic, and love.” Journey to a Visionary Artworld by Nikhil Bahadur Shakya Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Till 6 April 11AM-5PM

In the mind's eye

Deadly floods two years ago along the southern fringes of Kathmandu Valley killed 200 people. Climate change was blamed, but the destruction was magnified by quarries and sand mining owned by local politicians and crony contractors. Disaster mitigation and environmental risk was not a priority for any of the political parties that ran and won Nepal’s election last week. Although the RSP has a supermajority, rural municipalities that grant mining contracts are still ruled by the established parties that supply aggregates and sand to feed &nbsp;Kathmandu’s construction boom. Here in Lele Valley, residents are worried about another monsoon season that will start in June and fear more floods bringing unmanaged gravel from quarries down the Nallu River.&nbsp; The house of Sanumaya Nagarkoti, 65, and ten neighbours were washed away by the flood on the night of 28 September 2024. She and her husband petitioned the ward and municipal council to remove the crushers but no one listened. The slopes above are scarred by landslides from two years ago, and the banks of the river are strewn with bounders the size of cars that were brought down. “We live in constant fear of landslides,” says Chakra Nagarkoti, “the heavy crusher machinery and tipper trucks also constantly shake the house.”&nbsp; Google Earth images show that 24.6 hectares of mountain flanks have been excavated since 2010, and despite the disaster no lessons have been learnt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090348_bdce7f17500eadac0ce0814c32c2b4190d01325976fd4d29db9985148459c0bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260319090348_bdce7f17500eadac0ce0814c32c2b4190d01325976fd4d29db9985148459c0bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="907" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Photo: GOOGLE EARTH</figcaption> </figure>  The RSP might have got a near two-thirds majority in Parliament but decision-making at the community level is controlled by politicians in cahoots with contractors.&nbsp; Along the Mahadev Khola, the Department of Mines cancelled excavation permits for crushers citing flood and landslide risk. Yet there are still 21 contractors mining stones and sand.&nbsp; Nearby Godavari Municipality also instructed operators who had not renewed permits to close down. No action was taken. One of them is Vinayak Multipurpose which delivers aggregate and stones for United Cement. Local ward chair Milan Silwal, has a stake in Vinayak and locals accuse him of taking the side of industry.&nbsp; Another slope is being gouged out near Mahadev Khola, and comparing satellite imagery from 2010 shows that the scar on the mountain is now five times bigger.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090348_21a8f7f7f9d6cc784c35719da737b20283f934bbe16c9de971d91bf01012499a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260319090348_21a8f7f7f9d6cc784c35719da737b20283f934bbe16c9de971d91bf01012499a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>United Cement operating near Mahadev Khola. Photo: ARCHANA DARJI</figcaption> </figure>  Nearby stands the lone house of 55-year-old Sabina Tamang, who lives with her husband and daughter. Due to the sound of the stone-breakers, they cannot hear each other speak. “Last year, a landslide destroyed our cowshed and latrine,” she says. “Next it is going to be our home.”&nbsp; DRY SPRINGS Lele gets its water from several perennial springs which have gone dry in recent years. One of them is near where the cement factory quarries limestone. “We hardly get any water, and the little that does flow is murky and red,” says local resident Rajesh Shrestha. A parliamentary committee directive ordered excavation to stop 15 years ago after a similar flood to the one in 2024.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090352_af7da754299116578cc1dd91d5318ec337b69e74b0676599260b7c57c6ec6fd7.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260319090352_af7da754299116578cc1dd91d5318ec337b69e74b0676599260b7c57c6ec6fd7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="494" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Lele over the years. Photo: GOOGLE EARTH</figcaption> </figure>  United Cement’s manager Hari Upreti says his company has fulfilled all requirements and has permission to mine 15 hectares of its own property and 4 hectares of government land. “We have the Department of Mines permit which is valid till 2036 and extract 1,600 tons of limestone every day,” says Upreti. “The local community knew about the mining and if there is a problem with springs going dry it is not because of us.” Environmental researcher Uttambabu Shrestha, however, says there is a direct correlation between the quarry operation and floods, landslides and dry springs.&nbsp; “Extraction should not be allowed without an environmental impact assessment, and companies must stick to set limits,” he says. Investigation of permits show that there is collusion between local officials and contractors. Godavari-6 Chair Bishnuman Maharjan has investment in two quarries and crusher companies operating along Nallu Khola. A paper trail links Maharjan also to Sagarmatha Stone Crusher and Mankamana Aggregate Industries. IMPUNITY&nbsp; Godavari Municipality published a notice in June 2024, instructing crusher companies to submit environmental reports within two weeks, covering initial examination and impact assessment. It also told them to pay local development fees and clear outstanding dues. The municipality even wrote to the Department of Mines clarifying that it had issued permits to only five out of 27 contractors. Within a month, the Department wrote to the District Administration Office (DAO) and District Police Office instructing them to stop illegal excavation, and sent a copy to the Lalitpur Division Forest Office. The DAO then wrote to Lalitpur Police naming Machindranath Multipurpose as operating illegally and should be shut down. There was no followup. The municipality then issued fines worth Rs 60 million to it and one other company for non-compliance. The companies stalled, disputing the calculations.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090356_6e96403d3c5be4aef4d030974d6d92029a0eb396deafd19c511978dae30dd3d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260319090356_6e96403d3c5be4aef4d030974d6d92029a0eb396deafd19c511978dae30dd3d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="2250" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Another site of extraction near Mahadev Khola in Godavari. </figcaption> </figure>  Machhindranath Multipurpose operator Kedar Timalsina Shashi denies doing anything wrong, and says the landslides were collateral damage because of the steep terrain. When contacted Godavari Municipality Deputy Mayor Muna Adhikari declined to comment. It has been 10 years since Rajesh Shrestha, Nikesh Shrestha, and others raised their voices against the environmental destruction caused by the construction mafia. An agreement was finally reached two years ago between locals and mining and transport businessmen, stipulating that stone mines must close permanently by mid-2025. The agreement also stated that check dams must be built to manage mining debris, and damaged structures must be restored to their original state. Trees were to be planted at sites where stone mines had operated. But the mines in the catchment are still in operation with 500 tipper trucks working on the site every day, transporting stones and aggregate. Local youth have continued holding sit-in street protests and at Lalitpur DAO.&nbsp; After one sit-in, the mines closed for about a month but they started back up a month later.&nbsp; Birendra Maharjan owns one of the crusher units, and says he follows all environmental protocols. He told us: “You need stones to build, and we must dig to extract stones. Some trees have to be cut, people get employment, and besides, floods and landslides happen across Nepal.” &nbsp;&nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism – Nepal.