<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fa99c7e80680e0c252ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"/><figcaption>A healthy, diverse natural forest in Chitwan with three vegetation layers. All phoos: LILA NATH SHARMA.</figcaption></figure>It was sunny afternoon in December in 2018, I was sitting on a pile of logs at the Janakalyan Community Forest Office in Nawalparasi, waiting for its chair Kabiram Bhandari. I had just finished a three-day survey in the forest that his community had protected since 1996.It had not been easy to formally manage and protect aforest on which villagers depended on for fodder and fuel. At that time, the forest was severely degraded due to Illegal felling, encroachment, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/protecting-nepals-forests-from-fires/">wildfires.</a>It took Bhandari, with support from the District Forest Office (DFO), 20 years to formally hand over the management of the forest to the local community. The logging mafia was livid, and he got multiple threats.With the declaration of the community forest, encroachment stopped, logging declined, villagers collectively controlled wildfires, and underserved communities at the edge of the jungle were provided access to forest products.Women and indigenous groups were represented in forest management, local institutions were strengthened and revenue from the sale of forest products were channeled into maintaining roads, water supply and supporting schools.This story of one community forest in Nawalparasi is shared by thousands of such locally protected forests around Nepal, and is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests/">a success story</a> that has won international acclaim and contributed to Nepal’s forest area <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous/">doubling in the past 25 years</a> through forest protection and restoration for biodiversity conservation though decentralised and participatory management.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fad9c7e80680e0c252bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kabiram Bhandari arrived, smiling as usual, and asked if I had finished my assessment of his forest. I could sense that he was expecting an affirmation of his struggle to protect and manage his community forest.A forest is not just a clump of trees to count and measure their girth in cubic feet, and convert that at prevailing hardwood timber prices into rupees. A forest is a social, ecological and evolutionary organism. Instead of counting trees in a forests, my training in biodiversity made me count the number of species: how many of them are rare and threatened species of plants or animals, how many are non-native.The condition of a forest is different depending on what parameters we use to examine it. Tree data within a forest is therefore a manifestation of national priority of community forests, and in this case a report card for the effort of people like Kabiram Bhandari in Nawalparasi – and the paradoxical goals of protected and unprotected forests and Nepal.To protect, but how?Nepal’s community management of forests started with <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12130#.YsmZvi9Q1CA">a few pilot projects in the late 1970s</a>, and was soon <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/community-forest-comes-in-handy-earthquake-reconstruction,2927">replicated nationwide</a> in later years. It has since been widely hailed as a model of forest protection and biodiversity conservation.However, the protectionist approach of forest management is also biased in favour of high value species to the detriment of varieties that are deemed or perceived to be of inferior value.The Dipad Community forest in Makawanpur district had recently been subjected to the much contested concept of ‘scientific forest management’. The custodians of the community forest regarded its shrubs, vines and climbers as not being ‘good’ for the forest. In fact, the undergrowth in this ‘scientifically managed’ forest was made up of only sal seedlings and saplings.Further east, the Jalthal Community Forest of Jhapa district looked more like a monoculture plantation of sal trees. “See, there are no bushes, no thorns,” said the management committee’s Chiranjibi Poudel.Be it Nawalparasi, Makawanpur, Jhapa or other other community managed forests of Nepal’s Tarai, the story is the same ­— the drive to protect sal at the cost of other species. There were fewer tree species with higher commercial value in them.In the Nawalparasi forest, for example, of the 141 tree trunks I measured, 133 were of sal. The other eight species were badkamle, kyamuna, siris and putalikath. Sal makes up 94% of the species also in other Tarai community forests, which are devoid of shrub or liana.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fb19c7e80680e0c252cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="624" height="416"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12130#.YsmZvi9Q1CA">The greening of Nepal</a>, Marty LoganThe Jalthal Community Forest in Jhapa is a rectangular block 10 km long and 5.5 km wide, spanning about 6,000 hectares and located at the lowest elevation in Nepal. Jalthal is currently being managed by 22 community forest user groups and has biodiversity that is disproportionate to its physical area.Jalthal appears at first glance to be well conserved by communities. Encroachment by squatters and influential people has been stopped. Tree density has increased, with thicker canopy cover. There are fewer forest fires, poaching of wildlife and timber have been controlled. Collection of fuel and fodder is regulated, and revenue from the forest is invested in inclusive local development.The downside is that forest biodiversity has not been adequately protected, and degradation has continued. Invasive plants are affecting the indigenous vegetation of which there are only a handful of mature individuals left. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/protecting-pangolins-from-being-eaten-to-extinction/">The critically endangered pangolin</a> is still being illegally hunted. Community forest management does not adequately consider these biodiversity aspects of protection.The very name Jalthal implies that the forest has wetlands within it, but not much priority is given to protecting these water bodies which support biodiversity. Wild stands of latahar tree found in Eastern Nepal and eastward up to Malaysia are being depleted, with an absence of its sapling layer.Tree density has increased, but with an overwhelming share of sal. The forest is therefore homogenising. Even old growth stands of sal have been modified to make them look like a plantation forest. Healthy forests are supposed to be mixed species, but the story of Nepal’s community forestry is one of selective protection of certain species to the detriment of others.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fb39c7e80680e0c252djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A clean monoculture forest that looks like a plantation of exotic species is not what a community forest is supposed to be. Local people rely on forests daily for diverse products, with fodder being the most important. On typical day this spring, more than 2,000 people entered the Jalthal forest mostly for fodder and firewood.In the monsoon, over 500 people visit the forest everyday just to collect fiddlehead fern and other leafy vegetables.We found that people entered the forest for 12 types of products ranging from mushrooms to medicinal plants, edibles to timber.A ‘scientifically managed’ forest does not support these needs, and prioritises timber species for special protection. Liana like bhorla and bebre lahara and small trees like khasreto are not seen much anymore. Important fodder trees like kutmero, sadan and khanyu have declined. In fact, besides sal, there is a proliferation of eucalyptus and teak.Community forests are designed to support local needs, while managing and improving the vegetation. Given their multifunctional nature, Nepal’s community forests were supposed to promote diversity and coexistence of multiple species. Higher diversity entails wider ecosystem services and resilience.Managing forests only for timber overlooks the dependence of local people for a wider spectrum of ecosystem services. Besides timber, high value introduced medicinal plants are also the focus of forest management like lemon grass and citronella, turmeric oil to bio briquette, rhododendron juice to paper plates.Promoting enterprise and generating income is not a bad thing in itself, but this cannot be done at the expense of protecting an indigenous forest. I have seen a dozen or so community forests where local people have benefited from these new forest products, but only from daily wages, not to fulfil their traditional needs. Promotion of fodder trees, for example, would have been much more useful.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fb69c7e80680e0c252ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>How we understand a forest shapes our management objectives, decisions and routine activities.What was the original goal of Nepal’s community forestry program? Why have forests in the Tarai and elsewhere adopted similar management methods irrespective of local conditions and needs?Out definition of a forest seems to be restricted to having as many high value trees and medicinal plants as possible. There is rarely any attention paid to preserving biodiversity. The status of a forest does not just depend on a tree census, but past management of community sal forests focused mainly on maintaining or increasing tree density and cover. A ‘successful’ forest was one with increased density of sal, overlooking the forest as a complex ecosystem.Preferential protection of sal is an outcome of our policies and worldview on forests that treats a forest only as an economic resource, not an ecological treasure. The result is promotion of only high value species, be it timber or herbs, and overlooks wider spectrum of forest ecosystem services.Hariyo Ban Nepal ko Dhan was a popular slogan in Nepal’s forestry development in the 1980s. The word dhan ended up monetising forests. A new motto now is Ban Marfat Samriddi (prosperity through forests)and this is the thinking that has turned forests into a resource to be mined for timber.Nepal’s decade-long scientific forest management initiative was finally abandoned last year, but not before it hailed regeneration density in logged areas as a success, even when it was found that the original forest had been replaced by sal saplings. Treated blocks were poorer in species diversity compared to the original forests.The original conservation-oriented approach of forest management in community forests focused on retaining trees, and increasing crown and tree density. But the increase in density of the common most structural species was an outcome of the preferential protection by both Forest Department and user groups.A native sal forest is truly diverse in its associated flora and fauna with at least three vertical layers of vegetation. The canopy later has the taller trees, medium-sized trees make up the sub-canopy layer, and then there are shrubs and grasses in the forest floor which changes with the seasons.In tropical forests, liana, vines and climbers make up another important component, with some of them woody, massive and long lived – mainly in sal riverine forests. Old growth trees also support orchids and ferns with some sal supporting as many as seven species of orchids. Some trees have up to four species of ferns.Old growth forests are also rich habitats for birds, amphibians, reptiles and many insects like beetle and spiders. Old trees have cavities in the trunks and branches which shelter for animals like monitor lizards, owls, wood peckers, parrots and hornbills. Higher up in the food chain are the bigger mammals. Diversity in vegetation entails diversity in fauna as well.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/protecting-nepals-forests-from-fires/">Protecting Nepal’s forests from fires</a>, Dev Narayan Mandal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fba9c7e80680e0c252fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal’s forests are multipurpose, and people depend on them for a range of direct and indirect products. A sal is itself a multipurpose tree. A mixed and diverse forest not only delivers multiple services we need, but also has higher resilience to cope with climate uncertainty and plays a vital role in meeting food security.Today’s high value timber forest could not be further removed from the concept of what a natural forest should be. But it also has to be said that without community management, even these forests would probably be degraded and encroached.Our forests need to reflect the need to adapt to the climate emergency, and not just meet the economic needs of communities and the nation. We should build on Nepal’s community forestry success to restore natural woodlands.We therefore need to reimagine our forests. How an ecologist regards a forest is different from how an economist sees it. Nevertheless, sustainable forest management can balance diversity with meeting the need for revenue.This means conserving a forest with original biodiversity that also meets local needs. Such a forest would be diverse enough to sustain a wide spectrum of biota. Maintaining diversity does not cost more, in fact it protects Nepal’s natural wealth for this and future generations.Lila Nath Sharma has PhD in ecology from University of Bergen Norway and is with ForestAction Nepal.

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Safeguarding the soul of sal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a218d9c7e80680e041748jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1052"/><figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>After degraded forests were leased out to local communities to protect and manage 40 years ago, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7116#.XC7zVFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s community forestry program</a> has won international praise for restoring the country’s tree cover.Barren hillsides have been replaced by thick forests, wildlife has returned, and farmers have prospered because of ample fuelwood and fodder. The 2015 Forest Resource Assessment showed that Nepal’s canopy cover increased from 29% in the 1990s to 45%, representing more than 1 billion tons of carbon stock.Although depopulation of rural Nepal due to migration played a part in reducing the pressure on forests, much of the credit goes to the 22,000 or more Community Forest User Groups across the country.“Community forestry under the 1993 Forest Act was an exemplary participatory model and a highly democratic exercise that gave villagers a clear mandate to protect, manage and utilise their forests,” says Bharat Gotame of WWF Nepal. “This gave local communities a sense of ownership, and they put in a lot of effort to protect and expand Nepal’s forest cover.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19200&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Fixing what ain't broke</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19252&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's silent emergency: springs going dry</a>, Ajay DixitNow, as the trees mature into commercially valuable timber, the emphasis has shifted from forest protection to its management. The question is: who should manage the forests in Nepal’s federal structure?<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21909c7e80680e041749jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2544" height="1222"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some forestry experts believe not enough was done to train local communities in the scientific management of trees to prevent degradation and fires, and picking suitable tree species.“We focused solely on preservation, and as a result forest coverage increased without contributing to the economy,” says Krishna Acharya, joint secretary at the Ministry of Forests and Environment. “Our next step should be to see how natural resources can yield economic benefit for local communities.”However, environmentalists argue that nature should be protected for its own sake, and to look for narrow economic returns from conservation is myopic. If the contribution of new growth forests to eco-system services for water supply, tourism and as a carbon sink are calculated, they say the economic contribution of Nepal’s community forestry is vast.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Municipalities want to manage Annapurna</a>, Yuvaraj Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19229&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hiking up the benefits of tourism</a>, Sangmin KimThey also add that forest management works well in countries with greater transparency. Given the level of corruption in Nepal, especially after many <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener">contractors got themselves elected</a> mayors, rural municipalities have been exploiting natural resources. Allowing community forests to be ‘managed’ would destroy the forests.The 2015 Constitution placed national forests under the authority of the provincial governments, but it also listed national forests as the common right of federal, provincial and local governments. Then the Local Government Operation Act of 2017 provided rural municipalities the right to protect, use, manage, monitor, regulate as well as formulate and implement laws. These contradictory provisions have created confusion about who now owns forests.To make matters worse, the recently drafted Forest Bill curtails the rights of Community Forest User Groups, the very elected local committees that were responsible for protecting the forests under the 1993 Forest Act.For example, the new bill purposes that local user groups cannot sell extra forest products without permission of the government, unlike in the past when they could independently fix prices, sell timber and other products from their protected forests.“Greater accountability at the local level helped us save the forests, but the new bill attempts to undermine that very foundation of our success,” says Bharati Pathak, chair of the Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN). She warns that the bill will result in widespread deforestation, with negative impact on the environment, biodiversity, tourism and local livelihoods.Community forests have been threatened ever since local and provincial elections last year. Many contractors, loggers and quarry owners got themselves elected to local councils, and cases of poaching, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17226#.XC7zVlUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">illegal logging</a> and encroachment into community forests have shot up.Back in Singha Darbar, joint secretary Krishna Acharya says forests will actually thrive under federalism because elected governments will be closer to community forests, and thus have better oversight over its protection.In theory, that makes sense. But activists argue that stricter laws have never translated into conservation. Federalism has decentralised corruption, and the forests do not stand a chance.The reason Nepal’s community forestry program worked was because of local user committees. Transferring ownership and management to municipal or provincial councils, or interference from Kathmandu, will invite corruption and destruction of forests.Activists say such confusion over jurisdiction could wreck Nepal’s achievements in community-based forest conservation, and add that some things ought to be left alone.“Whoever ends up managing the forests, the functional modality of the community forestry program that transcended political and administrative boundaries should not be dismantled,” states the former Director General of the Department of Forests, Bijaya Paudel. “If we do, all our efforts and investment will come to naught, and the very thing we take pride in, our green forests, will be lost once again.”Paudel recommends that the government include local communities for consultation in decision making, because without user groups there will be no preservation, let alone sustainable management for economic benefits.The advice of the WWF’s Bharat Gotame is similar: “Give credit to local people for the protection of forests for the last four decades, and build on that with better management and ensure communities are accountable.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/climate-climax,3651" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Climate climax</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/climate-for-change/the-great-himalayan-thaw/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The great Himalayan thaw</a>, Ajay Dixit

Sonia Awale

Who now owns Nepal's forests?

It was 30 years ago this month that investment into ‘Baby Arun’, the 201MW first phase of the run-of-river Arun III project, was brought to a screeching halt when the World Bank officially withdrew its support. This brought about profound and fundamental changes in the way Nepal’s power sector subsequently developed. Nepalis suffered debilitating power outages between 2008-2016 due to shortages attributable to the cancellation. At the same time, the gap left by Baby Arun was filled by private sector investment in ways that were not obvious in 1995. It took 30 years, but in many ways Nepal’s power sector is more healthy today than it has ever been, and likely better than if the project was built as planned. At a projected budget of $1.08 billion, Baby Arun would have cost the equivalent of Nepal’s entire annual government expenditure in 1995. It was to be funded by concessional grants and loans from multilateral and bilateral funders, including the World Bank, Asian Development Bank (ADB), KfW, and investment by the government itself. At the time, Nepal’s total electricity generation capacity was only 230MW, and the trajectory of the power sector changed dramatically following the cancellation. In the past 30 years, $5.4 billion has been invested in the power sector led by private investors, and much of it from domestic banks and pension funds (table, right).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="984" height="521" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Nearly 70% of the new megawatts generated were by private independent power producers (IPP) in the past 30 years, while the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) and its subsidiary companies added 30% of new capacity. Almost 80% of total debt financing came from domestic banks and employee retirement funds. International assistance for power generation dropped dramatically over this time, accounting for only about 15% of investment. Before 1995 new power projects used to be entirely dependent on foreign aid. Since 1995, 63% of new generation came from 171 small hydropower projects with an average capacity of 12MW, while 4% was from 21 solar photovoltaic and biomass projects developed by local IPPs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097" data-rendition-name="original" width="988" height="503" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Over three decades, investment in Nepal’s power supply came primarily from new actors that had never before been involved in this sector. The rate of electrification rose from 10% to close to 100% -- sufficient to meet domestic needs during most of the year, and in 2024 made Nepal a net exporter of power to India for the first time in its history. As practically all the new investment in this period went into run-of-river hydro and solar projects, rather than into hydropower reservoirs with seasonal storage, Nepal continues to rely on imports from India during the dry winter months. Surplus electricity generation for export during the monsoon is slated to grow rapidly as another 200 solar and hydro projects are nearing completion of construction, with over 5,000MW of power capacity. Private Power The cancellation of Baby Arun inadvertently accelerated the entry of the private sector into Nepal’s power generation. The government enacted the Electricity Act in 1992 to attract private IPPs and diversify away from total dependence from international aid, but had been struggling for several years to conclude the first agreement with the 60MW Khimti Project. There remained a large gap between the tariff that the government thought was reasonable versus what was demanded by the Norwegian investor Statkraft, and the private sector arms of the World Bank and ADB that were financing the project. The shock of World Bank withdrawal from Baby Arun put tremendous pressure on the government, then led by the UML as it is now. The Bank’s decision to terminate its involvement was ostensibly, at least partially, taken in response to a letter critiquing the project sent by the UML while it was in the opposition.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347" data-rendition-name="original" width="949" height="446" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>BAD NEWS: Newspaper clippings from the early 90s on tender announcement ahead of loan approval (left) and secrecy surrounding environmental assessment (centre) of Arun III before its eventual cancellation in August 1995.</figcaption> </figure>  The government was forced to soften its position and agree to the investors’ terms following the cancellation of Baby Arun. It directed NEA to sign a power purchase agreement (PPA) with Khimti. It was concluded in January 1996, and this was followed by a second PPA in July 1996 with Panda Energy, the American developer of the 45MW Upper Bhotekosi project. The expensive USD-denominated agreements to buy power from two international private producers, with price escalation clauses tied to the New York Consumer Price Index, sent alarm bells ringing. There was worry that the country was heading towards unaffordable tariff rates for the consumer and potential bankruptcy for NEA as a result of inevitable future weakening of the Nepali Rupee. The government had strong-armed NEA into signing these agreements, and realised that concessionary financing terms that Nepal was used to receiving for public sector projects such as Baby Arun and Kali Gandaki A, that included below-market interest rates and 40 years repayment period with a 10 year grace period before starting repayment, were not the norm for private sector investors. Nepal’s status as a less than attractive destination for foreign investment meant that the country had few options but to accept expensive dollar PPAs from international developers with the high commercial interest rates and short repayment periods imposed by their banks because of high investment risks. In the end, the government ended up having to additionally provide a sovereign guarantee in order to close the deal at the insistence of the lenders – committing it to repayment in case NEA defaulted on paying the IPPs. It is reasonable to assume that the extraordinarily high political cost of agreeing to the PPA terms would have meant that no government would have willingly agreed to them in 1995 had it not suffered the trauma of the loss of concessionary-financed public sector projects as large as the Baby Arun. It has taken NEA 25 years to consider offering dollar-denominated PPAs again: to cover the foreign exchange portion of the investment in the 216MW Upper Trisuli-1 and 120MW Rasuwa-Bhotekosi Hydropower projects. It seemed unlikely at the time, but it turned out that the dire situation Nepal found itself in 1995 planted the seed to mobilise investment for affordable power from within the country. Double Whammy After the dual shock of first losing investment in Baby Arun and having to sign expensive power purchase agreements with international IPPs, the first proposal for an alternative strategy to mitigate the risk of foreign currency investment into hydropower projects came from a group of engineers within the Arun III team at NEA. Led by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4900">Deputy Director Damber Bahadur Nepali,</a> engineers convinced the leadership that NEA needed to invest in a subsidiary company to build a series of locally-designed and domestically-financed projects that would have lower cost with rupee-denominated PPAs. They registered the Chilime Hydropower Company Limited (CHCL) in October 1995 with 51% shares from NEA, 25% from its employees, and 24% available for the general public, 10% of which was prioritised for local residents at the project site. The 22.1MW project is in Rasuwa on a tributary of the Trisuli, and mobilised debt financing from the Employee Provident Fund, which manages retirement savings for employees of the government, public enterprises, and private sector institutions. CHCL’s experience showed that NEA employees themselves believed that individual hydropower projects with operational independence from NEA could be developed profitably in Nepal by its own engineers -- and they were willing to put their own money on the line. Chilime also demonstrated that there was money in the country, particularly with retirement funds, looking for opportunities for long-term investments. Following completion of Chilime in 2003, CHCL led the formation of three other NEA subsidiary companies that completed construction in 2023 and 2024, producing 168.3MW using fully rupee-tied investment. NEA’s largest subsidiary, the Upper Tamakosi Hydropower Limited, completed construction of its 456MW plant in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1571" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>DAMNED: The $700 million 456MW Upper Tamakosi built entirely with domestic funds before it was destroyed by the September floods last year. </figcaption> </figure>  There were some delays and cost overruns on this run-of-river project, the largest in the country with a final cost of over $700 million -- all of it sourced domestically. The five subsidiary companies launched by NEA have produced almost two times as much new power as NEA has over the past 30 years. Seven other NEA subsidiaries are currently constructing projects to add another 474MW to the national grid. But even more important than NEA subsidiaries have been local IPPs: Nepali companies which have over the past three decades enthusiastically entered the hydropower sector. From a regulatory perspective, the credit for mobilising domestic private investment to engage in power generation goes to Minister of Water Resources Shailaja Acharya, who in 1998 offered a flat feed-in-tariff of Rs4/kWh for hydropower projects under 10MW. This upfront offer removed a major barrier that early developers had faced of having to spend money to carry out a detailed feasibility study before they could even start tariff negotiations with NEA. She had laid the foundation stone of the Chilime project, and proved to be the champion of opening up the sector for domestic IPPs. The guarantee of a PPA with a fixed tariff, irrespective of project specifications, gave small power developers the confidence to apply for survey licenses and invest in feasibility studies so they could directly approach commercial banks and make a case for their project producing required revenue to repay loans. Domestic IPPs started adding power to the national grid in 2002. Their contribution was initially modest, and first projects were small and commercial lenders who took time to be confident about providing debt financing to a sector which had previously not been considered suitable for private sector investment. While the first 10 years were slow, with less than 10MW being added to the grid each year, this increased twenty fold over the following ten years, resulting in the equivalent of a Baby Arun being added by Nepali IPPs to the grid each year. A total of 84 IPPs added 232MW, 328 MW, 454MW, and 400MW of new generation to the grid in 2021-2024 (graph). There was explosive, exponential growth as domestic developers have surged ahead to account for 76% of the new megawatts added to the grid since 2020, compared to 24% by NEA and its subsidiary companies. The megawatts that IPPs are adding have followed the classic ‘hockey stick curve’ with the ‘breakout point’, signaling the rapid growth phase in 2020. Private producers are expected to accelerate new generation in the coming years with 300 solar and hydropower projects adding 11,000MW. Another 166 hydropower and 96 solar projects are currently in the survey stage, and are in line to add another 11,000MW to the construction pipeline. One major challenge is finding financing required for the projects. Domestic investment will no longer be sufficient to finance this ambitious pipeline of renewable energy projects. Project developers as well as NEA and the Electricity Regulatory Commission will have to leverage their substantial experience accumulated through the construction of over 200 projects to attract regional and international investment and hedge the risks of dollar-denominated PPAs. Following the cancellation of Baby Arun, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Nepal developed a highly distributed power sector</a>. The national electricity grid is currently supplied with power from a remarkably decentralised array of hundreds of hydropower and solar photovoltaic projects spread across 43 districts and all seven provinces.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1228" height="867" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  This presents a sharp contrast to the pathway of a few large public sector hydropower projects with a sprinkling of private sector projects that was envisioned as part of NEA’s investment planning when Baby Arun was being considered the front runner for investment. The strategy then was to allow public sector investment in a few large hydropower projects with thermal plants to fill the gap. Knowing what we know now about acceleration of climate change impacts and increased extreme weather events, following this path would have made Nepal’s power sector highly vulnerable. Decentralised generation greatly improves the resilience of Nepal’s power supply as damage to power plants in one part of the country need not affect other areas that have their own generation. Following the investment plan where over two thirds of the country’s power supply would have come from power plants on the Arun River, would have greatly imperiled Nepal’s energy security. All rivers in Nepal are susceptible to flooding from cloudbursts made more frequent by climate change. The Arun River which is fed by glaciers in Tibet is also at risk to glacial lake outburst floods. Bikash Pandey is Director of Clean Energy and Circular Economy at Winrock International. People Power is his regular column in Nepali Times on global energy issues relevant to Nepal. <h2>Decentralised and Diversified</h2> In the 30 years since the cancellation of ‘Baby Arun’: Hydropower projects constructed cover capacities ranging from less than 1MW to 456MW and developed by IPPs from across the country with strong local involvement in purchasing equity shares. Renewable energy sources contributed to the generation mix through solar IPPs that further contribute to climate resilience, and cover shortfalls during low rainfall. The government is committed to solar contributing 10% of the power on the grid. Increasing solar beyond this target and providing incentives to project developers to invest in utility-scale battery storage would further improve resilience. BIG ARUN: The 900MW Arun III project under construction since 2018 at Num in Sankhuwasabha (pictured, below) is a separate initiative by a different project developer using a different financing modality. The ‘Baby Arun’ version of Arun III was cancelled in 1995.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> </figure>

30 years after Baby Arun

Nepal has shut down dozens of social media platforms in a move that is widely seen as an effort to tax the revenue they generate in the country, and to control content critical of government. The sites were blocked as of midnight on Thursday, 4 September and affects all Meta products including WhatsApp and Messenger, Threads, and others. Although YouTube, Google and X are also on the government’s list, they were still working as of Friday midday.&nbsp; The government says it took the action after repeated warnings to the platforms to open offices in Nepal, a Cabinet decision last month setting a deadline, as well as a 17 August Supreme Court ruling also requiring them to register and pay requisite taxes. However, the Bill cited in the ban, ‘The Operation, Use, and Regulation of Social Media in Nepal’ has not yet been passed by Parliament. Some social media platforms which were already paying taxes in Nepal even though they are not officially registered, have also been blocked. The move is the latest in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/big-beautiful-bills" target="_blank">a slew of draft legislations</a> designed to undermine Nepal’s open society. A Bill amending the Print and Publications Act would allow district bureaucrats to shut down media. Another draft Bill would allow political appointees to head a new Media Council with the power to revoke the licenses of journalists.&nbsp; A counter-intelligence Bill would let just about anyone in government to arbitrarily tap phones, read emails and trail citizens. On Wednesday the government announced new immigration requirements that would allow it to track the movement of all foreigners in the country. Yet another draft Bill has been set to Parliament to dissolve the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10675" target="_blank">Social Welfare Council (SWC)</a> and move registration and monitoring of non-governmental organisations, nonprofits and charities to the Ministry of Social Welfare. Seen in this light, the blockage of social media platforms this week is seen as the latest government attempt to constrict freedom of press. Nepal is one of the few remaining open societies in Asia, and now appears to be drifting towards authoritarianism. The government’s sudden shutdown of social media has been greeted with howls of protest on platforms that still remain open, like Viber and TikTok, as well as in Nepal’s mainstream press. Even senior members of the ruling UML-NC coalition have sharply criticised the move, asking if the government is trying to “turn Nepal into North Korea”.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656" data-rendition-name="original" width="4280" height="5187" loading="lazy" alt="social media ban in Nepal"> </figure>  The Regional Director of the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) Beh Lih Yi said in a statement: ‘Nepal’s sweeping ban on social media sets a dangerous precedent for press freedom. Blocking online news platforms vital to journalists will undermine reporting and the public’s right to information. The government must immediately rescind this order and restore access to social media platforms, which are essential tools for exercising press freedom.’ Besides undermining press freedom, blocking social media platforms will also hurt commerce and the economy since so many small and medium business trade through Instagram, Facebook and other platforms. Nepal’s vibrant social media has also been a boost or citizens to assert identity, build solidarity against injustice and play an adversarial role when the mainstream media does not do it. Social media platforms have also become the tenuous link for Nepali families scattered across the world to keep in touch with each other — its importance growing with the increasing size of the diaspora. The government wants social media platforms to register, pay taxes and remove posts on their sites that ‘undermine the national interest and Nepal’s territorial integrity, disturb social and religious harmony’.&nbsp; In response, rights activists have said while there is need for the government to regulate extreme content and hate speech, officials appear to be more intent on clamping down on free speech and trying to force platforms to share the revenue. On Friday, the government had allowed WhatsApp back online, but there were reports that it had instructed the Nepal Telecommunication Authority (NTA) to instruct mobile and internet service providers to block by Friday night all platforms, including Facebook, Instagram, Messenger, WhatsApp, X (Twitter), YouTube, LinkedIn, Reddit, Threads, Snapchat, Pinterest, Signal, Clubhouse, Rumble.&nbsp; Platforms that have registered and are allowed include TikTok, Viber, Nimbuzz, Popo Live, WeTalk, Global Diary and the Nepali portal Hamro Patro. TikTok was banned last year for ‘disturbing social harmony’ and it was lifted after the platform registered its office in Nepal. But even while it was banned, many users simply switched to VPN. Telegram was also banned for ‘financial crimes’ and it has since also been allowed back. NTA officials confirmed that some Asia-Pacific regional offices of platforms, including Meta had been in touch overnight inquiring about the registration process.&nbsp; Nepal is not alone in regulating social media. China bans most Western platforms, Russia and Turkey regulate their and require platforms to locate their data servers in the country. Gulf countries allow social media but keep a tight control on dissent.&nbsp; Experts have said even the government will not dare close down YouTube since so many Nepali individuals and companies make money with posts on that platform, and closing it would also impact on Google and Gmail. Facebook had also just launched a monetisation scheme for videos and reels, and Nepalis uploading content would lose revenue.&nbsp; Blocking the platforms has already hit content creators, influencers and cut small businesses from reaching customers. A survey of social media use in Nepal by Sharecast Initiative showed that 94% of those with smart phones used YouTube, followed by Facebook (92%) while TikTok was in the 50-60% range. X and Instagram were in the single digits. A YouTube ban will also hurt the mainstream media since up to 20% of the revenue of Nepal’s main tv channels came through YouTube. Some 11.1 million Nepalis watch YouTube content every day, the survey showed. ‘For global giants like Meta or Google, Nepal is a small market, and they may not even flinch — but for millions of Nepalis, these platforms are central to daily life, livelihoods, and connections across the world,’ wrote AI consultant Naresh Newar in a LinkedIn post. Some experts said the government’s sweeping ban on social media networks was untenable and the government would be forced to rollback sooner or later. Said editor Shiva Gaunle: “The platforms had given citizens a voice and broken the monopoly of the government, legislators, the courts and journalists over public opinion. This is an effort to reassert that monopoly, but Nepal can never be turned into a North Korea.”

Protest grows against Nepal’s social media ban

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2fZXyjsE28" target="_blank">Yog Narendra Malla</a> became king at age 18, and ruled Patan from 1684-1705 — his reign marked by a cultural and architectural renaissance of the city state. He put up a statue of himself in the palace square with a little bronze bird sitting on the guardian serpent above his head. It is said he told his subjects that he would look after their welfare till the day the bird flew off. During<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu"> the 2015 earthquake</a>, the pedestal collapsed and the statue was damaged. The bird was lost, only to be located in a pile of debris and reinstated when the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/piece-by-piece-patan-darbar-square-reconstruction,3782" target="_blank">statue was consecrated</a> two years later. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/x2fZXyjsE28?si=jYfIb4p6zCLXYQ1T" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> History remembers Yog Narendra Malla as a wise king, but like most<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home"> royalty of the day</a>, he had a weakness for women. He is supposed to have consorted with 30 queens and numerous concubines. At least 33 of them self-immolated themselves on the king's funeral pyre when he died, adhering to the prevailing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Jhola,947">practice of sati</a>. When Yog Narendra Malla’s favourite queen found out that he was carrying on with yet another woman, she got the local community of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood to stage a shadow sex play to quite literally expose his unfaithfulness. Actors enacted the explicit exploits of the king and his mistress, a bright butter lamp projecting the moving shadows of their lovemaking on a thin white drape to entertain those gathered in the square below. The queen made sure that the show was designed to face the home of the king’s paramour to shame them both. She also paid for a group to chant a bhajan with lyrics that ridiculed the king’s extramarital affair. The Jhyalcha Guthi community trust that the queen set up three-and-half century ago is still active to this day, and performs the annual shadow play in the same building in Kwelachhi the day before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra">Indra Jatra </a>every year. This year’s show is on Friday evening, 5 September. The opening lines of the chants that accompany the play are the same words approved by the queen all those years ago: “Raja Yog Narendra ya aparadh…” (King Yog Narendra’s crime…) The community leader of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood, 62-year-old Baburaja Awale, explains the importance of the event: “This Jhyalcha is our<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303"> intangible heritage</a> and oral history. We do not have a written format, it has been passed down from generation to generation. Every word of the bhajan is the story of King Yog Narendra Malla.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1167" loading="lazy" alt="Sex and the city of Patan"> <figcaption>The statue of Yog Narendra Malla being reinstated after it toppled in the 2015 earthquake. Photo: GOPEN RAI/ NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Jhyalcha Pyankha, as the ceremony is called, starts with a puja for the Bhimsen — the god of wealth and prosperity, a popular <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-homecoming-of-nepal-s-gods">deity in Patan</a> who has a temple dedicated just to him in the palace square. This is immediately followed by a bhajan of Bhairab performed with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-house,670">traditional Newa musical instruments</a>. Community members serve snacks consisting of samay baji beaten rice, water buffalo chunks, soybean, green veggies, lentils, ginger, garlic and aila liquor. “In the first act of the shadow play, the man initiates the lovemaking, and in the third it is the woman,” says Laxmi Lal Awale, also a member of the trust that organises the show. The shadow action is all uncensored, but interspersed with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">scenes of everyday life</a>: the woman is spinning a thread, the king is going about his royal chores, and the two sit down to share sanacha fermented pickle that is popular this time of year. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qZ3twuG1wNQ?si=yRfkoC3A-X9cIl8r" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> “Back then, there was no tv, films or YouTube, and yet we managed to stage the shadow play using our own resourcefulness,” says Baburaja Awale. “It is important to continue the tradition.” The challenge now is to ensure that the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain"> younger generation takes over</a>, learning the lyrics of the ancient bhajan. The dafa khala group that performs all over Patan during festivals and religious events is now training teenagers to play the musical instruments and act in the shadow play. The Jhyalcha was staged even after the 2015 earthquake when the falcha where the bhajan is performed collapsed and they made-do in a tin shed. The structure was later rebuilt with a grant from the group, Photo Circle. Lalitpur Metropolitan City sets aside a budget of Rs50,000 to organise the Jhyalcha Pyankha every year, but this is not enough and is supplemented by individual donations. The performers including musicians and actors are all volunteers, and take part in it because it is their community duty. The erotic shadow play was way ahead of its time, not just in its graphic content but the use of contemporary local technology as well as improvisation and pure imagination. Says Laxmi Lal: “Whatever its origin in the legend of King Yog Narendra Malla and his queen, Jhyalcha also served as a medium of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lets-talk-about-it">sex education</a>. In the past, women were discouraged from watching the shadow play, but today everyone is welcome, we all watch it together.” Jhyalcha Pyankha Kwelachhi, Chyasal, Patan 7PM onwards Friday, 5 September

Sex and the city of Patan

This is the 72nd 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. My father ran a store and that is where I spent all my time till Grade 6. Doing my homework. Serving customers. I then moved to my maternal grandparents’ house because I used to get along with my cousin who was a year older than me. We did everything together, and were best friends. We took turns studying: I was a night owl, and he was an early riser. Before I went to bed after studying all night, I woke him up. My mother was 44 when I was born, the same year my eldest brother got married. My sister-in-law becoming a part of our family was how my mother referenced my age. I liked making money, and was always a hustler. In Grade 7, I learnt to handle a tractor and helped my brother-in-law to plough, earning Rs10 a day. As I got better, he paid me more. By Grade 9, I was already making Rs500 per day, but had to slow down to prepare for my exams. From an early age I knew I did not want a 9-5 job. There just wasn’t enough money in it. I wanted to get into business, and compared my brother who worked in the post office and what businessmen made. It did not help that my brother was honest, and never took bribes. A friend and I made money selling cheap Chinese phones at a premium to our friends. We blasted music on the phones and pretended that we were giving them a discount. After SLC, I started teaching math and other subjects. I was soon a shareholder in the same school and in the evening I was involved in our family’s floriculture business, growing amaranth and marigold for garlands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="955" height="1314" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  It was then that a friend suggested we learn the Korean language. We could be earning significantly higher in Korea for similar efforts. I had no plans to go abroad but he convinced me. I did not know anything about Korea, and was scolded at the language institute when I asked someone to point Korea on the map.&nbsp; It was only there that I learnt you had to pass an exam for the Korean Employment Permit System (EPS), and pay for language classes. After a week, I decided it was not for me and dropped out. But my friend convinced me to give it one more try. I did not prepare much for the exam, and it was no surprise that I failed. But it was just by one mark, and people would pity me for failing “just by one mark”. It was a brand of failure. It hurt my ego. I had to turn things around by taking the exams seriously, and locked myself up to study hard.&nbsp; Even when we had visitors, my wife told them I was not home. If I was not in my room learning Korean, I would be with a group of ten of us test-takers comparing notes and practicing late into the night. The exam was difficult, but this time I passed, the only one in my group who did.&nbsp; As someone who never liked the idea of doing a job, I still had my doubts about going to Korea. It did not help that one of my acquaintances had returned a month after he had left, and he discouraged me from migrating given that I was already making good money in Nepal.&nbsp; But my wife suggested that I give it a shot since I had worked so hard for it. And if it really turned out not to be my cup of tea, I could always return. What did I have to lose, I thought, at least I would get to visit Korea. My job there was in an electrical company that made circuit boards. I worked all day, earned good money. In the evenings, I kept myself busy with my real estate business back in Nepal. I had learnt the tricks of the trade from fellow real estate agents back home, but at the time did not have the capital to invest.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  In Korea, it helped that I had salary records that allowed me to get loans from financial institutions both in Korea and in Nepal. Ultimately, I started earning more from my real estate deals in Nepal than from my job in Korea. This was all thanks to my ability to take loans because of the EPS scheme. My wife has been managing the flower business while I was away. My finances grew stronger over the eight years I was in Korea. I paid off the loans that I had borrowed to buy land. But real estate did not satisfy me entirely. I wondered: what is my brand? What will I be known for? What is my contribution to society? Real estate is for wealth, but that is about it. I needed to sell one piece of land and use the revenue to start a venture. I took classes in business, and returned to Nepal six months ago and got back to my family’s ancestral roots in floriculture. In Nepal too, I am continuing the entrepreneurship training I had started in Korea with the Bridge International. Such exposure helps us reflect on our business such as our branding, vision, and proactive aspects like the importance of strong recordkeeping.&nbsp; I am now working to upgrade and expand my floriculture business. With a friend who is still in Korea I am building a cooling room to increase the shelf-life of flowers and other produce and set up a market in my village where others can sell their produce. Floriculture is our primary business, but it is seasonal and earns good money only during festivals like Tihar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  So, I grow tomatoes to ensure year-round earnings. I also am engaged in other businesses like real estate and online shopping. I work round the clock in Nepal — a strong work ethic is something I picked up in Korea.&nbsp; My Korean bosses would work alongside us, that motivated us. I work just as hard in Nepal as I did in Korea. People here often ask me why I am pushing myself so hard. But making garlands comes easy to me, it is work my forebears were involved in. My childhood memories are about plucking flowers with my sister. I have a comparative advantage in this work. It comes naturally to me, it is easy and I enjoy it. And sometimes, if there are too many garlands to make, I can multitask while holding meetings. My fingers just fly. I am good at this job, but my wife is even better and faster.&nbsp; When there is too much load, we can also outsource the work. To be known as the flower guy would be great personal branding. The मखमली guy. Or the सयपत्री guy. I decided to come home for just this with a one-way ticket. “अब पासा: जाँदैन ल्हासा!” &nbsp;

fodder

Safeguarding the soul of sal

Who now owns Nepal's forests?

30 years after Baby Arun

Protest grows against Nepal’s social media ban

Sex and the city of Patan

The flower guy