<figure><img width="1024" height="683" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101132/636a22909c7e80680e041795jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Arundhati Roy with Maati Ke Laal in her flat in Delhi. Photo: SHAHIDUL ALAM/DRIK/MAJORITY WORLD</figcaption></figure>Indian author Arundhati Roy <a href="https://pen-international.org/news/arundhati-roy-writes-to-shahidul-alam-day-of-the-imprisoned-writer-2018">wrote a letter</a> to imprisoned Bangladeshi <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/gallery/2018/oct/15/jailed-bangladesh-photojournalist-shahidul-alam">photographer Shahidul Alam</a> on the 100th day of his incarceration on 14 November, which was also the <a href="https://pen-international.org/">PEN International</a>’s Day of the Imprisoned Writer, 2018. Alam was <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/nov/20/bangladeshi-activist-shahidul-alam-released-from-prison">released on bail</a> on 20 November, and he wrote back to Arundhati. Nepali Times brings you both letters below:  --Dear Shahidul,It’s been more than a 100 days now since they took you away. Times aren’t easy in your country or in mine, so when we first heard that unknown men had abducted you from your home, of course we feared the worst. Were you going to be ‘encountered’ (our word in India for extra-judicial murder by security forces) or killed by ‘non-state actors’? Would your body be found in an alley, or floating in some shallow pond on the outskirts of Dhaka? When your arrest was announced and you surfaced alive in a police station, our first reaction was one of sheer joy.Am I really writing to you? Perhaps not. If I were, I wouldn’t need to say very much beyond, ‘Dearest Shahidul, no matter how lonely your prison cell, know that we have our eyes on you. We are looking out for you.’Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-100th-day-in-jail/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam 100th day in Jail</a>If I were really writing to you I wouldn’t need to tell you how your work, your photographs and your words, has, over decades, inscribed a vivid map of humankind in our part of the world—its pain, its joy, its violence, its sorrow and desolation, its stupidity, its cruelty, its sheer, crazy complicatedness—onto our consciousness. Your work is lit up, made luminous, as much by love as it is by a probing, questioning anger born of witnessing at first hand the things that you have witnessed. Those who have imprisoned you have not remotely understood what it is that you do. We can only hope, for their sake, that someday they will.Your arrest is meant to be a warning to your fellow citizens: ‘If we can do this to Shahidul Alam, think of what we can do to the rest of you—all you nameless, faceless, ordinary people. Watch. And be afraid.’The formal charge against you is that you have criticised your country in your (alleged) Facebook posts. You have been arrested under the Section 57 of Bangladesh’s infamous Information and Communications Technology Act (ICT) which authorizes ‘the prosecution of any person who publishes, in electronic form, material that is fake and obscene; defamatory; tends to deprave and corrupt its audience; causes or may cause deterioration in law and order; prejudices the image of the state or a person; or causes or may cause hurt to religious belief’.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-photo-kathmandu-award/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam Photo Kathmandu award</a>, Alisha SettWhat sort of law is this, this absurd, indiscriminate, catch-all, fishing trawler type of law? What place does it have in a country that calls itself a democracy? Who has the right to decide what the correct ‘image of the state’ is, and should be? Is there only one legally approved and acceptable image of Bangladesh? Section 57 potentially criminalizes all forms of speech except blatant sycophancy. It’s an attack, not on intellectuals, but on intelligence itself. We hear that over the last five years more than 1200 journalists in Bangladesh have been charged under it, and that 400 trials are already underway.In India too, this sort of attack on our intelligence is becoming normalized. Our equivalent of Bangladesh’s ICT Act is the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act under which hundreds of people including students, activists, lawyers and academics are being arrested in wave after wave. The cases against them, like the one against you, are flimsy and ludicrous. Even the police know that they are likely to be acquitted by higher courts. But the hope is that by then, their spirits will have been broken by years in prison. The process is the punishment.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/freeshahidulalam/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#FreeShahidulAlam</a>So, as I write this letter to you, dear Shahidul, I am tempted to add, dear Sudha, dear Saibaba, dear Surendra, dear Shoma, dear Mahesh, dear Sudhir, dear Rona, dear Arun, dear Vernon, and also, dear Tariq, dear Aijaz, dear Aamir, dear Kopa, dear Kamla, dear Madavi, dear Maase, dear Raju, dear hundreds and hundreds of others.How is it possible for people to defend themselves against laws like these? It’s like having to prove one’s innocence before a panel of certified paranoics. Every argument only serves to magnify their paranoia and heighten their delusions.As both our countries hurtle towards general elections, we know that we can expect more arrests, more lynching, more killing, more bloggers hacked to death, more orchestrated ethnic, religious and caste conflagrations— more false-flag “terrorist” strikes, more assassinations of journalists and writers. Elections, we know, means fire in the ducts.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The death of democracy</a>, Aditya Adhikari Your Prime Minister, who claims to be a secular democrat, has announced that she will build 500 mosques with the billion dollars the Government of Saudi Arabia has donated to Bangladesh. These mosques are supposedly meant to disseminate the ‘correct’ kind of Islam.Here in India, our rulers have dropped all pretense of the secularism and socialism that are enshrined in our constitution. In order to distract attention from the catastrophic failures of governance and deepening popular resentment, as institution after institution—our courts, universities, banks, intelligence agencies—is pushed into crisis, the ruling power, (not the Government, but its holding company, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh,) is alternately cajoling and threatening the Supreme Court to pass an order clearing the decks for the construction of a giant Hindu temple on the site where the Babri Masjid once stood before it was demolished by a rampaging mob. It’s amazing how politicians’ piety peaks and troughs with election cycles.This is what we are up against, these neat definitions of the perfect nation, the perfect man, the perfect citizen, the perfect Hindu, the perfect Muslim. The postscript to this is the perfect majority and the satanic minority. The people of Europe and the Soviet Union have lived through the devastation that these sorts of ideas caused. They have suffered the matchless terror of neatness. Only recently Europe marked the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht—the event that marked the beginning of the Holocaust. There too it all began quite slowly. There too it began with elections. And there too the old murmurs have started up again.Here we’re going to witness our own scorched-earth elections in the coming days. They will use their fishing-trawler laws, they will jump at shadows to decimate the opposition.Fortunately, we are an irredeemably untidy people. And hopefully we will stand up to them in our diverse and untidy ways.Dear Shahidul, I believe the tide will turn. It will. It must. This foolish, shortsighted cruelty will give way to something kinder and more visionary. This particular malaise, this bout of ill-health that has engulfed our planet will pass.I hope to see you in Dhaka very soon.With loveArundhati <figure><img width="700" height="400" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101132/636a22929c7e80680e041796jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Shahidul Alam is released from the prision.</figcaption></figure>Dearest Arundhati,It was a letter I read and reread long before it appeared before my eyes. It was through layers of metal bars that I strained to listen to Rahnuma’s words. At over 130 decibels, the noise made by us screaming prisoners, straining to hear and be heard, was akin to a crowded stadium or a fire siren. As she repeated her words over and over again, I faintly heard, Arundhati. Letter. It was just over a hundred days that I had been incarcerated. A hundred days since I’d slept on my own bed, fed my fish, cycled down the streets of Dhaka. A hundred days since I’d pressed my shutter as I searched for that elusive light.Those words, screamed out but barely heard was the nourishment I needed. Did you write it by hand? What was the paper like? In this digital age, you probably used a keyboard. What font had you used? What point size? And the words. Words that you so gracefully string together. I relished the imagined words. Your words. I missed words as I missed my bed, my fish and Rahnuma’s touch. When they asked me what I needed in jail, books were on top of my list. The first lot of books came in. Mujib’s prison diaries, Schendel’s History of Bangladesh, and the book you’d given me when we last met, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness. I’d been meaning to read it ever since we said goodbye in Delhi, but our lives had been taken over by the immediacy of our struggles. Now I had the time.I imagined other letters. The one Shiv Viswanathan had written when Binayak Sen had been sentenced for sedition, or the one Rahgu Rai wrote asking that I be freed. But this one was not to a prime minister. It had been written for me. To me. There are no pigeons in Keraniganj, and sparrows are perhaps too small to carry letters. As I fed them from my window, I could imagine one carrying across a tiny wad of paper, carefully tied to its feet. Paper I would unfold gently, smoothing the creases. It would have been a letter I had read before it was written.I could read your letter, not because I remember you sitting across your wooden table in your open kitchen. Not because I remember you rubbing noses with Maati Ke Laal as she interrupted our chat, insisting on not being ignored. Not because of Sanjay’s book on Kashmir, which we had opened together. My reading relied on our shared legacies, on our collective griefs, on the struggles we both face as autocrats rule our lands. You have Kashmir and we have the Chittagong Hill Tracts. You have ‘encounters’ and we have ‘crossfire’. ‘Goom’ we both share. We both live in what are called democracies, though we know we lack voice.Your book weaves complex characters, the absurdities and the beauty that is India. It finds the calm within the chaos. A moment of kindness, within the grotesque injustice. I look around me and see hijras in the high security cells in Surjamukhi. Occasionally they walk out, their bright saris, glowing amidst the drab clothes of other prisoners. They remind me of your Anjum. Of your Saddam, as I see Koutuk da feeding the cats, making his way to those pretentiously named jail buildings, Jamuna, Meghna, Korotowa and Padma, seeking out the one that might have missed its meal. As I speak to prisoners falsely charged, and left to rot in a legal system that lets people be forgotten, and the Sharbahara man Tipu Biswas, his eyes glowing with passion, insisting on justice even in jail, I am reminded of  your Musa, defiant against the odds.It was here in Keraniganj that I met Badal Farazi, wrongfully charged by Indian courts, and eventually sent to Bangladesh. Ten years in jail for a crime, the courts knew he could not have committed. My government too scared to speak against this utter wrongness of Indian justice. Too scared to upset the big brother. Keraniganj was where top terror Joseph had been. Released through a presidential pardon, whisked away in the middle of the night and sent overseas. In my case it had taken six attempts before bail had finally been granted. They had tried to block my bail just as they had tried to stop me from sleeping on a bed, or getting access to a doctor. Even after bail was granted, they had tried to prevent my release. But we triumphed in the end, and we held hands and sang songs as I left the jail gate. The case still hangs over my head and the threat of bail being withdrawn is the threat they hope will silence my tongue, my pen and my camera. But the ink in our pens still run. The keyboards still clatter.Yesterday we were in Dhakeswari Mandir. It was Taposh and Haimanti’s daughter Riddhi’s ‘mukhe bhat’, her first solid food. As they lit candles and circled the tulshi plant, I wondered if they would dig up the temple because they had heard of a mosque underneath. One more mosque to add to the 500 our prime minister has promised using Saudi money.They swore in the new cabinet yesterday ‘I will faithfully discharge the duties upon which I am about to enter according to law: That I will bear true faith and allegiance to Bangladesh: And that I will not allow my personal interest to influence the discharge of my duties as a member of Parliament.’ Given that their very means of being there was based on an election where every rule had been flouted, the constitution abused, to protect their personal interest, this oath was particularly perverse. A slap on our face with sandals, a terrible insult in South Asia. They will sit in their duty-free cars, flags waving. They, the biggest lawbreakers in the land, will sit on boards of banks and schools. They will pass the new laws. They took their oath as a mother of four was writhing in hospital, gang-raped by party faithful, for having the audacity of voting the ‘wrong’ way.But yes, Arundhati, the tide will turn, and the nameless, faceless people will rise. They will rise against the entire state machinery, now reduced to servility. They will rise as they did in ’71. They, who never clamoured for muktijoddha honours, who never claimed benefits for their children, who never wore Mujib coats in public. They, their children and their children’s children, will rise to bring back the core principles they had fought for. We will have secularism. We will have democracy. We will have social equality. We will win back this land.I’ll see you in Dhaka. A humongous hug awaits.Love,Shahidul Dhaka. 7th January 2019First published in <a href="http://www.newagebd.net/article/61212/they-will-rise-shahidul-alam-replies-to-arundhati-roy">The New Age</a>

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Arundhati and Shahidul write to each other

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933ba9c7e80680e03dfb6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>On the 100th day of incarceration of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/freeshahidulalam/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bangladeshi photographer Shahidul Alam</a>, 34 prominent South Asians including Arundhati Roy, Shabana Azmi, Amitav Ghosh, Mohammad Hanif, Nepal's former Chief Justice Sushila Karki, among others have signed a letter to Prime Minister Hasina Wazed demanding his immediate release.The letter states: 'As well-wishers of Bangladesh and supporters of its 166 million citizens’ struggle for dignity, social justice and prosperity, we are distressed by the continued imprisonment of photographer and cultural activist <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCpmlkiqbf4" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam</a>.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933be9c7e80680e03dfb7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5760" height="3840">The internationally renowned <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-photo-kathmandu-award/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">photographer and mentor to many Nepali photojournalists </a>was forcefully taken from his home on 5 August and has been held at Dhaka Central Jail for the last 100 days. He is accused of ‘hurting the image of the nation’ while reporting on protests by young students demanding road safety. He has been denied bail five times.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/freeshahidulalam/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#FreeShahidulAlam</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The death of democracy</a>, Aditya Adhikari The letter notes: 'Shahidul Alam is a Bangladeshi citizen, but the rest of us in South Asia are also proud to call him our own, for the values of truth, justice and social equality he promotes.'<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933c29c7e80680e03dfb8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="908"><figcaption>Portrait taken by Shahidul Alam of Nepal's former Chief Justice Sushila Karki for an interview in Nepali Times. Karki was one of the signatories to a joint letterto Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina Wazed, demanding his release. Photo: SHAHIDUL ALAM/DRIK.</figcaption></figure>Other distinguished persons who have joined this appeal include singer/songwriter Moushumi Bhowmik (Kolkata), political scientist Jayadeva Uyangoda (Colombo), poet/critic Sankha Ghosh (Kolkata), historian/writer Ramchandra Guha (Bangalore), photographer Raghu Rai (Delhi), artist Salima Hashmi (Lahore) photographer Dayanita Singh (Delhi), Manjushree Thapa and Kanak Mani dixit (Kathmandu) among others.The signatories adds: 'It is clear to us that the case of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam is being used as a means to suppress criticism</a> by others in civil society. His arrest and continued detention appear to be manifestation of an intolerant political atmosphere, an attempt to threaten and silence the voice of Bangladeshi citizens.'Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-photo-kathmandu-award/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam Photo Kathmandu award</a>, Alisha Sett<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933c49c7e80680e03dfb9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1334"><figcaption>Photo of Arundhati Roy that Shahidul Alam took. Photo: SHAHIDUL ALAM/DRIK.</figcaption></figure>Full text of letter with list of signatories:H.E. Sheikh Hasina Wazed Prime Minister of Bangladesh Prime Minister’s Office Dhaka, Bangladesh 13 November 2018 Subject: Appeal for release of Shahidul Alam on 100th day in custody Your Excellency: As well-wishers of Bangladesh and supporters of its 166 million citizens’ struggle for dignity, social justice and prosperity, we are distressed by the continued imprisonment of photographer and cultural activist Shahidul Alam. Since the founding of the nation in 1971, the people of Bangladesh have led by example, fighting poverty, ending social injustices and being standard-bearers of participatory development. This advance has been made possible by the democratic spirit of the people, who have challenged military rulers and autocrats alike. As well-wishers of Bangladesh, we fear that these gains are in danger due to the rising political intolerance and denial of fundamental freedoms. Shahidul Alam is a Bangladeshi citizen, but the rest of us in South Asia are also proud to call him our own, for the values of truth, justice and social equality he promotes. His work and activism are respected all over our region and beyond, with innumerable friends who admire his concern for the voiceless and marginalised. One example is his latest work highlighting the tragedy of the Rohingya people, who have been given refuge in Bangladesh by your Government. Since Shahidul Alam was forcefully taken from his home on the 5th of August, he was remanded first in Detective Branch custody for seven days and, then held at Dhaka Central Jail at Keraniganj. He is accused of ‘hurting the image of the nation’ while reporting on protests by young students demanding road safety. It is clear to us that the case of Shahidul Alam is being used as a means to suppress criticism by others in civil society. His arrest and continued detention appear to be manifestation of an intolerant political atmosphere, an attempt to threaten and silence the voice of Bangladeshi citizens. With the country preparing for general elections, this is a time when there should be more space for debate and discussion, not less. As believers in the rule of law, we are shocked to learn that government lawyers continue to oppose Shahidul Alam’s release on bail using various stratagems and delays intended to deprive him of his fundamental rights to liberty and due process. Across South Asia, politicians and citizens have fought for the right to speak, and to write, and it is astonishing to us that a government today, especially one which seeks to harness technology for progress, should choose to use a law to proscribe online speech to jail a citizen.Sincerely,<ol><li dir="ltr">Akram Khan, London</li> <li dir="ltr">Amar Kanwar, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Amitav Ghosh, Goa</li> <li dir="ltr">Anish Kapoor, London</li> <li dir="ltr">Aparna Sen, Kolkata</li> <li dir="ltr">Arundhati Roy, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Ashok Vajpeyi, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Buddhadeb Dasgupta, Kolkata</li> <li dir="ltr">Dayanita Singh, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Ina Puri, Kolkata</li> <li dir="ltr">Jayadeva Uyangoda, Colombo</li> <li dir="ltr">Kanak Mani Dixit, Kathmandu</li> <li dir="ltr">Laila Tyabji, New Delhi;</li> <li dir="ltr">Manjushree Thapa, Toronto</li> <li dir="ltr">Mohammed Hanif, Karachi</li> <li dir="ltr">Moushumi Bhowmik, Kolkata</li> <li dir="ltr">Nandita Das, Kolkata</li> <li dir="ltr">Nimalka Fernando, Colombo</li> <li dir="ltr">Patricia Mukhim, Shillong</li> <li dir="ltr">Pooja Sood, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Rachana Singh, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Raghu Rai, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Rajdeep Sardesai, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Ramchandra Guha, Bangalore</li> <li dir="ltr">Romilla Thapar, New Delhi  </li> <li dir="ltr">Salima Hashmi, Lahore</li> <li dir="ltr">Sanjay Kak, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Sanjoy Hazarika, Shillong</li> <li dir="ltr">Sankha Ghosh, Kolkata</li> <li dir="ltr">Shabana Azmi, Mumbai</li> <li dir="ltr">Sushila Karki, Kathmandu</li> <li dir="ltr">Vijay Prashad, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Vikram Seth, New Delhi</li> <li dir="ltr">Vrinda Grover, New Delhi</li></ol>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCpmlkiqbf4

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Shahidul Alam 100th day in jail

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

We were used to getting stuck in Kathmandu’s notorious traffic with gas fumes and horns blaring. We are still stuck in traffic, but now it is mostly the quiet hum of EVs, and street-level air is noticeably cleaner. Alongside Norway, Nepal has the highest combustion-to-EV conversion rates in the world. And we are not even a middle-income country yet. How did we get here?&nbsp; For the first time in Nepal’s history, 2025 saw an unprecedented turn of events: two back-to-back auto shows a week apart in August, independent of each other. This was timed for the warm up to the Dasain season. &nbsp;&nbsp; The first auto show 6-11 August was the <a href="https://naimanepal.org/mobility-expo" target="_blank">NAIMA Mobility Expo 2025 </a>by the newly established Nepal Automobile Importers and Manufacturers Association which saw 35 new models, many of them EVs with 50 participating brands like Toyota, BYD, Hyundai, Kia, MG, Mahindra, Omoda &amp; Jaecoo, Proton and Leapmotor.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1770" height="1097" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The exhibition had a strong focus on two-wheelers aimed at affordable and easy mobility in a town now known for long traffic jams (see report). NAIMA attracted a record 100,000 visitors in six days.&nbsp; The second one was the Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association Auto Show 2025 (<a href="https://youtu.be/emSd0mUuMjU" target="_blank">NADA</a>) to address the growing demands for cars and two-wheelers. It was a natural expression of new market forces at work, on one hand, and popular taste, on the other — one influencing the other.&nbsp; This year’s NADA Auto Show was its 17th iteration, and carried a hefty legacy: exhibiting a contemporary lineup from manufacturers such as Tata, Suzuki, Xpeng and Nammi, but also classics for vintage car lovers like the 1928 Ford Model A and a rare 1955 Austin Princess Dm4 sedan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1381" height="848" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  It also showcased the Deepal eVTOL (a 2-seater drone), and a humanoid robot with dog. Curious onlookers at Bhrikuti Mandap thronged the show with footfall crossing 170,000.&nbsp; Earlier this year, I had traveled to attend India's largest auto show, the <a href="https://youtu.be/OgIIvXx6yOM?si=zNmMgklzCJpagTye" target="_blank">Bharat Mobility Global expo</a> in January in New Delhi. It was part of a <a href="https://youtu.be/GT6LBKiJvyg?si=r7YaxahjSAnsIfBY" target="_blank">roadtrip</a> from one capital to another with BYD Nepal on a Dolphin. The journey took three days through Bhairawa and then the Lucknow-Agra Expressway, covering a distance of 1200km one way.&nbsp; The drive through the horrid Narayanghat-Butwal corridor alone was testimony that EVs are no longer fragile and could handle a beating. And while both Nepal's economy pales in comparison to India, it was evident that the private passenger segment is well on its way to electrification. More than 70% of all vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric. Sales representatives are unanimous: inquiries for EVs are at an all-time high and overshadow demand for ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles. Besides four-wheelers, a fast-growing proportion of scooters were also electric.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="863" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  I have spent the last two years <a href="https://youtu.be/256YQa37Ol8?si=Sv1wQ8EdvgMCiTM_" target="_blank">reviewing</a> many of these EVs. The days of batter-powered cars being small toy cars, with sub-par build quality and the range of golf carts have long gone.&nbsp; Fit and finishing in both Chinese and Indian EVs are comparable to established brand names even in Japanese and European markets. But most significantly for us in Nepal, battery technology and range have made inter-city travel on our highways imaginable. The media sometimes portrays Nepal as a prime testing/dumping ground for EVs due to lack of regulation and the proximity to the world’s largest EV exporter (China) and our tough geographical conditions. That is just a part of the story. What actually stands out is the incredible appetite for risk among Nepali buyers.&nbsp; Since the Covid pandemic charging infrastructure has spread across the country. My early trips between Kathmandu and Pokhara saw the possibility of topping up with just one charging gun at the <a href="https://rsr.com.np/" target="_blank">Riverside Springs Resort in Kurintar</a> – and I would have to wait in line, or the charger simply would not be working.&nbsp; These days, by the time I cross Kurintar from Koteswor in my Kona, I will have passed at least 10 charging stations with multiple guns. &nbsp; On my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">YouTube reviews</a>, people from across the globe ask about range and handling EVs on poor road conditions like ours. The occasional skeptics also leave comments like: ‘If this works in the higher altitudes and mountainous roads of Nepal, then it should be a breeze down here in the flats of Australia and/or hills around Auckland!’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1139" height="787" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  SATURATION? However, both the NAIMA and NADA auto show also confirmed that we could be hitting a peak EV. From having just one car in one budget segment, there are now multiple alternatives stretching from the entry of below Rs3 million to the premium and high-end Rs 10 million price point.&nbsp; Furthermore, the price wars on EVs that started in China a year ago have also trickled across to Nepal. Models such as the <a href="https://youtu.be/3wFN2I81Tq0?si=T6L4SAfRpoyNNvYC" target="_blank">MG S5</a>, Nammi Vigo, BYD Atto 2 (and 1) and <a href="https://youtu.be/y214kWbWTc4?si=bIevanDZEPQdkEs4" target="_blank">Deepal S05</a> saw aggressive pricing schemes and discounts that disrupted pre-existing quotas. Consumers can suddenly afford a lot more cars, and travel a lot further for a considerably smaller price tag.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1953" height="1107" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  However, booking numbers at both auto shows did not necessarily translate into actual deliveries. The fact remains that almost 80% of registered vehicles in Nepal are still two-wheelers, and GDP per capita stands at just $1500 — among the lowest in the world.&nbsp; This means that early first-adopters are first-time buyers, and the remaining customers in the market are more skeptical and less willing. But there are also those that are unlikely to consider the EV suitable to travel to off-road rural areas. For the average Nepali family, upgrading or purchasing a new car is no small decision. It happens in five years or more with resale values being a big determinant. The EV boom may be reaching saturation.&nbsp; Both NADA and NAIMA shows drove home the message that Nepal’s transport sector is on an electric fast-track, but the road ahead will be bumpy.&nbsp; Soon after the shows, the glacial debris flow on the Bhote Kosi knocked out the Rasuwa-Kerung border with China, and earlier landslides had already blocked the Koradi checkpoint. Manufacturers are now using the less convenient Korala border in Mustang. BYD, Leapmotor and Omoda &amp; Jaecoo have begun rerouting their vehicles to make up for delivery deadlines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1031" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Although the distance from the capital to the Korala border (470km) is four times longer than from Rasuwa (128km) &nbsp;and Tatopani (112km), it is still considered faster and more cost effective than shipping via India using sea routes.&nbsp; And then Nepal was engulfed in turmoil after the youth-led protests of 8-9 September and its aftermath. Many automobile showrooms around Thapathali including Tata, Hyundai and CG were vandalised and torched.&nbsp; Sushila Karki leads a caretaker government till elections are held in March, and the unsettled situation will affect the economy and investment climate as well as the automobile sector. Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Youtube</a>, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Tiktok</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/casuallyannoyeddriver/" target="_blank">IG</a>, and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

Nepali Times: You just climbed Mt Everest without oxygen and then skied down the mountain. How does one even train for something like that?&nbsp; Andrzej Bargiel: What made skiing down Everest possible was all the years of experience I’ve gained in high-altitude mountains. Spending a lot of time in the high mountains helps me read the snow, the conditions, and potential hazards. I need to ski often, especially in steep and exposed terrain, so that it becomes a place where I feel completely at home.&nbsp; I also climb regularly, I am an IFMGA mountain guide. I also run, ride a bike, and work out in the gym. Like in any endurance sport, I have to prepare my body for the demands of an expedition.&nbsp; What motivated you to do Everest? This was actually my third attempt on Everest. After many years of ski mountaineering and racing, I felt it would be great to use that experience to take on a meaningful project in the Himalaya. It’s about exploring what’s really possible, testing my limits, and seeing how far I can go. I was inspired by people like Davo Karničar, Fredrik Ericsson, and Hans Kammerlander, who showed that skiing in the high mountains can truly be done.&nbsp; What do you have to be most careful about when skiing at such high altitude? You really have to manage your energy well, because you need to be ready to spend many hours at very high altitude — even above 8,000 meters. Risk management is essential. You have to read the signals nature gives you and make the right decisions, choosing safe moments to move. The dangers are always there: avalanches, crevasses, extreme fatigue, and exposed terrain, so you have to stay fully aware and focused. Safety comes first, always. You also need to stay open to changing your plans, because in the mountains, things don’t always go the way you expect.&nbsp; Why did you choose autumn and not spring?&nbsp; Autumn is really the only season when you can think about making a full ski descent from the summit all the way to base camp. In the spring there’s much more ice left after winter, and the snow cover is broken. A full descent simply isn’t possible then, because too much rock and ice are exposed. Of course, in spring it’s easier to climb the mountain. The conditions are more stable, the snow is firmer, there’s less avalanche risk, and you don’t have to wade through deep snow. The autumn ascent is very complex and demanding, which is why so few expeditions attempt it. But in autumn, skiing becomes possible. Several meters of fresh snow fall on Everest’s slopes, covering the rocks and ice, and that transforms the mountain into something wild, beautiful, and most importantly skiable. What was your favourite part this time? The moment I remember most fondly was reaching the summit — and that first stretch just below the top, when I clicked into my skis and started moving down through surprisingly nice snow. It felt smooth and natural, a kind of free, easy glide down toward the Hillary Step. I could feel the movement, the flow, and at the same time this awareness that I was skiing from the highest point on Earth. It was just a really good feeling. The Icefall was another special moment. I felt from a skier’s point of view that it really worked. I could make my turns, and the descent itself was fun, technical, but a beautiful one too — full of variety, weaving through ice towers and seracs that looked incredible in the sunlight. It was challenging, but also just pure joy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Andrzej Bargiel NT"> </figure>  And what was most challenging? The hardest moment came on 14 September, during our first summit push attempt. We were breaking trail in deep snow and reached the South Col in the evening. I already knew we wouldn’t be going higher that night, so I decided to stay there, to use the climb to acclimatise.&nbsp; But after that attempt failed, the team completely lost faith that the project could still succeed. Almost everyone started packing up, convinced it was over, nobody thought that the snow would stabilise enough.&nbsp; I skied down from the Col early the next morning in really good conditions, while the rest of the team descended on foot. Rebuilding belief within the team that it could still be done was the toughest part, mentally. It took me several days to bring that energy and motivation back, to make everyone believe again that we could try once more. What was your support crew like?&nbsp; I want to thank the whole team — all team members from Poland, all those who contributed to the project, all the sponsors, and the Seven Summit Treks crew, especially Dawa Sherpa, who had the courage to go to the top with me.&nbsp; In the end, his courage made it possible. Doing it alone would have been almost impossible. With him there, I felt safe, and that made all the difference. What potential for skiing do you see in the Himalaya?&nbsp; Huge. There’s massive potential here both for ski touring and for a more recreational form of skiing. In the Himalaya, there are so many mountains you can ski from, and they don’t have to be eight-thousanders.&nbsp; There is an incredible amount of snow even in the lower valleys during the winter, which makes it a really interesting place for skiing. You can find great powder and enjoy long, wide runs.&nbsp; The key, I think, is to keep developing local guiding structures. There should be more certified guides in Nepal, Sherpas gaining guiding qualifications, and a proper professional rescue service. That would definitely increase the sense of safety for both skiers and tourists coming to the mountains. I’d love to come back to the Himalayas one winter just to ski in those lower parts — in deep snow, on much longer and wider skis – that would be pure pleasure. At those lower altitudes, the fun can be so much greater, with a more relaxed, freeride kind of feeling.

free-shahidul-alam

Arundhati and Shahidul write to each other

Shahidul Alam 100th day in jail

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

What makes a Nepali?

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

The man who skied down Everest