<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

Nepal showed inconsistent performance at the T20 World Cup 2026 in Mumbai with flashes of brilliance, but ultimately snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rhinos-hit-the-ground-running">near-win against England</a>, a test cricket team by an associate country, in the opening game showed promise and suggested that Nepal’s cricket was on the cusp of glory. The Nepal Premier League and a flawless performance in the qualifiers had raised hopes that perhaps the Rhinos could progress out of the group stage. However, subsequent losses against newcomers Italy and the West Indies were harsh reality checks about the true state of the game: there is a lot of catching up to do in the present, and structural changes to put in place to win big in the future. Head Coach Stuart Law summed it all up quite harshly: “To go from that high to then go to an extreme low four days later, that’s not showing mental toughness.” He was worried about the distraction of social media and lack of focus among players: “When you’re in cricket, do your cricket. It’s a difficult one for me because I’m a social media dinosaur, I don’t understand it. You don’t have to keep showing your face if we’re winning games.” Finally a late-night win against Scotland on Tuesday redeemed some of Nepal’s pride. A strong opening partnership, yet another rugged Dipendra Singh Airee innings and Sompal Kami’s vindictive 3 for 25 helped Nepal beat Scotland in their last group game at the T20 World Cup.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  There was nothing riding on the game but honour, it means at least that Nepal do not crash out on zero. The game ebbed and flowed. Scotland started well and looked set to score 200 before collapsing in the end at 170. The Nepal batting effort also started out well, but in the middle overs after some wickets had fallen, it looked like the team was whimpering out again. Boundaries dried up, the run rate creeped up to almost 13, before Airee and Jha woke up and took charge and got to 171 with a few balls to spare. The dhaka topi crowd in the stands loved it. A big part of the reason Nepal’s performance was so much better against England than in the other games was the mentality going in. Against England, Nepal were clear underdogs and could play freely. Even a nasty defeat would have been forgiven. Against newcomers Italy, these roles were flipped. Fans and perhaps the players underestimated Italy, a nation much better known for its football culture. But it had put together a smart, experienced team made up of Italian cricketers with South African, Australian, English, Indian, Pakistani and Sri Lankan heritage. And Nepal may have won a series against West Indies last year, but against the full strength Caribbean squad they were easily beaten.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  Another key difference is that Nepal was batting second against England. Against Italy and the West Indies, having to set a target rather than chase it, there was miserable batting failure. The front of the order — openers Kushal Bhurtel and Aasif Sheikh, captain Rohit Poudel — did not pace themselves well. They started much too slow, not able to take advantage of the first six powerplay overs. Airee’s 58 and Sompal Kami’s 26 off 11 against the West Indies were the only innings of any note. The middle order of Bam, Jha, Aarif Sheikh was not much better. Nepal really struggled with the ball too in that game, taking the one wicket against the West Indies and none against Italy. Of course, it is a huge ask of your bowling attack to defend anything below 150 in the modern T20 game. There were questionable tactical choices. Early wickets are essential when defending a low score. But key wicket taker Sandeep Lamichhane was not brought on until the middle overs, when the opponents had made too many runs to feel any fear. So they took him on and he had a really poor tournament, going for a lot of runs.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  To captain Poudel’s credit, he acknowledged the bad showing against Italy: “It was not a 123 all-out wicket. We are professionals and not turning up for the game was disappointing.” Coach Law thinks that Nepal is going to get to the next step. If the team is ambitious, and hopes to compete at the elite level, then it cannot celebrate a loss against England. If it wants to win consistently, it has to shed the ‘Cardiac Kids’ nickname. It is better to win than to be fun to watch but lose. The T20 game is so brisk and so it is often won in the margins. Good catching and fielding can create momentum and save a team the 5, 10 runs that win the game. Nepal were uncharacteristically poor in the field against Italy and West Indies, often fumbling and leaking boundaries. Airee didn’t get any of his usual run-outs either. Nepal lost cheap wickets through run-outs and stumpings. All these unforced errors right through the match add up on the scoreboard.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  SKILL SET Mentality is important but sport performance ultimately comes down to skill. There looked to be a large gap, and perhaps one of the reasons is because the Nepal team is so full of all-rounders. Airee’s two-way performance is undeniable, but Bhurtel, Paudel and Karan KC do plenty of both too and they do not do it super well very often. If the team wants to get consistent, it must have consistent performers with the bat and ball. That calls for some of these players to focus completely on one skill over the other. You do not see openers bowling so much in the top teams as Bhurtel does. The main reason for this skill gap, and one of the hardest parts about being an associate nation, is how little cricket the members of the team play compared to the test nations. Said Stuart Law: “The longer format is where you learn how to play the game. The shorter formats are where you have your fun. We need some sort of multi-day games.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  The contrast in experience showed during the Italy game. Most of the members of the Italy team were well into their thirties, had played a high volume of domestic cricket and were more self-assured. So, while the young Nepali team were more athletic, they seemed to lack the skill and experience to know what to do when things were going wrong. The Italians seemed to go about their game with a lot more self assurance. In the long run, this means setting up grassroot structures, getting kids into formal training when young, and setting up a longer format domestic league. In the short term, CAAN could organise frequent series with other associate nations, and individual athletes could go play long form club cricket abroad. Surely some team in the world has to have a spot for a player like Airee, for example. It has been Airee’s tournament. Scores of 44 v England, 58 v West Indies, and now a match-winning 50 against Scotland that gives the travelling Nepali support something to cheer for. The tournament could have been a lot more, but it is wholesome to end on a win.

Nepal goes in and out of T20

After his critically acclaimed 2023 book of essays सुन्यताको मुल्य on the state of women and children in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">Karnali</a>, paediatrician and writer Nawaraj KC has come out with a next one, Swasparsh. The new book is almost a sequel to the first one, with real-life stories drawn from his medical practice and social engagement. Both are powerful accounts of suffering, resilience, and the search for human dignity in Nepal’s most remote and underserved districts. The book opens with deeply disturbing yet real incidents of the suicide of a Grade 2 student. A &nbsp;frantic mother rushes in with a son who had already written a suicide note but was saved at the last moment. There is a desperate call from a young woman threatening to jump into the Karnali River.&nbsp; We meet children carrying immense trauma: a toddler who refuses to eat after losing her mother, and another child who stops speaking after experiencing sexual abuse within the family. The emotional climax comes when KC himself falls into depression after being violently attacked by a drug addict patient, leaving him with a serious head injury.&nbsp; But this is not a book of only sad stories of deprivation and poverty. It is how people who find themselves in the worst circumstances struggle to overcome what life has thrown their way, and triumph in the end. By just surviving against all odds, people emerge stronger, often with a renewed commitment to helping others. As a paediatrician working out of his native Surkhet in Karnali Province, KC's work brings him face-to-face with the human side of what a centralised government’s neglect and apathy can do to communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-dasain-in-kalikot">Nepal’s most far-flung region</a>. KC shows empathy not just to human beings in trouble, but also animals and underlines the importance of coexisting with the natural world. By helping others individuals ultimately help themselves. Although a paediatrician by profession, KC demonstrates a deep understanding of structural oppression, gender discrimination, caste hierarchy, class inequality, and regional marginalisation within the Nepali state.&nbsp; He also captures moments of tenderness, such as young couples supporting one another through hardship. How poverty can drive families to take heartbreaking decisions — like a patient forced to discontinue life-saving medicine in order to qualify for disability allowances needed to repay debt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1646" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  A former teacher is forced to beg despite receiving treatment, exposing the failure of conventional development models that ignore sustainable livelihoods.&nbsp; Then there are inspirational stories like the one of Mandire, who ran away at age 12 to work as a labourer in India, suffered severe burns while unloading coal, and lost a hand. Despite this, his infectious smile and fortitude transformed him into a local symbol of hope both in India and Nepal.&nbsp; Even in old age, he is always smiling and helping others less fortunate.&nbsp; Through Mandire’s story, KC explores the science of the healing power of a smile, the positive psychology of a ‘mental gymnasium’ in which optimism is cultivated through conscious practice.&nbsp; For example, a young girl from the historically marginalised Badi community which faces deep social exclusion refuses to accept her circumstances, and grows into an advocate for other disadvantaged children. A devoted foster mother dedicates her life to raising orphans, empowering them despite her own hardships. One of the book’s strengths lies in its accessibility. In Nepali language, KC blends science, philosophy, and lived experience into everyday language that resonates with villagers and ordinary readers. He comes across not only as a doctor and healer, but also as a teacher, nature lover, and social activist. He tries to introduce greenery to a remote school, and how this transformed children’s learning experience. He reflects that his patients are his greatest teachers helping to expand knowledge beyond medicine and technology into the realms of humanity and ethics. I read Swasparsh after witnessing the recent GenZ movement. The book’s recurring calls to youth, appearing at the end of several chapters, has special relevance today. KC reminds young readers that hardship is part of everyday life, but within struggle lies the potential for healing and growth.&nbsp; He encourages self-reflection, self-healing, and cultivating a positive mindset. Above all, he asserts that humanity’s greatest gift is its own human capacity henceforth solutions to all problems lie within oneselves rather than outside forces. The GenZ movement represents an urban youth revolt against traditional political parties and state institutions that have failed to deliver opportunities and accountability. Rising unemployment, widespread corruption, and frustration with stagnant governance have fuelled demands for new political alternatives.&nbsp; With the 5 March election less than three weeks away, many young people hope that new forces will be capable of bringing systemic change. Yet whether these forces can truly meet their aspirations remains uncertain. Established political actors are reluctant to relinquish power, while emerging groups often lack organisational depth and historical experience. In many ways, these new political actors resemble the people of Karnali: resource-poor, And in the periphery of power, yet rich in commitment and determination. Drawing from Buddhist teachings that recognise suffering, understanding its causes, and seeking pathways to overcome it, KC indirectly inspires today’s youth. Every problem contains the seeds of its own solution, provided we learn to know ourselves, care for ourselves, and care for others. Ultimately, the title Swasparsh means self-healing, self-reflection, and self-confidence. At a time of political uncertainty and generational change, this book speaks directly to Nepal’s younger and the emerging alternative forces — reminding them that transformation begins from within.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  Hisila Yami served as CA member, Minister of Physical Planning &amp; Works, Minister of Tourism &amp; Minister of Land Reform. At present, she is a member of Central Political Council in Pragatishil Loktantrik Party and is a lecturer in IOE Pulchok.

Essays on self-realisation and self-healing

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

There is a growing tendency to frame Nepal’s current political turmoil primarily through the language of Foreign Hands.
Across talk circuits and commentary today, Nepal’s unfolding crisis is increasingly being explained through external influence —foreign powers, hidden backers, geopolitical plots.
In a tense regional environment, this framing is understandable, but it also risks becoming a convenient shortcut. By looking outward first, it subtly shifts attention away from the harder, less comfortable work political parties and institutions have long postponed: internal reform, accountability, and rule-bound governance.
Three collapses in three decades and seven constitutions in as many decades should force us to pause for self-reflection. Add to this nearly thirty changes of government in just as many years.&nbsp;
Nepal’s democratic century, which began in 1950, has been marked by repeated conflicts, transitions, and crises. Not all of these can be explained by — or blamed on — &nbsp;forces from outside. This persistent finger pointing pattern indicates structural weaknesses at home.
Long before the September GenZ uprising, many observers (including myself) had been warning that Nepal was approaching a tipping point.&nbsp;
The concern was not foreign interference, but accumulated internal fragility: weak checks and balances, cartel-like party arrangements, politicised constitutional bodies, episodic accountability, and the near absence of credible, nonpartisan civic watchdogs.&nbsp;
Together, these produced a system operating at the edge of collapse. In such systems, small triggers — a protest, a ban, a spark — can produce cascading effects far beyond their immediate cause.
Explaining this rupture mainly through foreign influence can feel reassuring, but it ultimately absolves domestic actors of responsibility. External pressures do exist, but they become decisive only when internal institutions are already hollowed out and exposed.&nbsp;
When institutions are weak and compromised, outside forces stop dealing with the state as an institution and begin negotiating directly with individual political powerbrokers. At that point, sovereignty erodes quietly — not through invasion, but through leverage.
This is why the current obsession with identifying external hands risks missing the deeper lesson. The more revealing symptom may not be foreign maneuvering, but the ease with which, for example, militant cadres, informal networks, and extra-institutional actors are able to step in and exert influence, right under our nose during this election cycle. This is just the tip of the ever fragile institutional iceberg that needs tending.
CADRE MACHINES
As some have recently noted, these 'cadre machines' are not causes of the crisis so much as indicators of a broken system — filling a vacuum left by institutional decay.
Nepal’s deeper challenge, therefore, is not denying or ignoring outside influence. It is rebuilding the internal capacity that makes such influence less consequential: credible institutions, internal party democracy, transparent rules, and steady and independent civic oversight that operates beyond election cycles. Without this foundation, every crisis will continue to invite external interpretation — and external leverage.
Several recent essays on my Nepal Unplugged newsletter may be of interest to some: why Nepal’s current crisis is better understood through internal institutional fragility than through the language of 'foreign hands'. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Alok K. Bohara, PhD, is Emeritus Professor of Economics at the University of New Mexico, and writes his newsletter <a href="https://substack.com/@nepalunplugged">Nepal Unplugged</a> as an independent observer on Nepal’s socio-economic and political landscape. &nbsp;

free-shahidul-alam

Arundhati and Shahidul write to each other

Shahidul Alam 100th day in jail

Nepal goes in and out of T20

Essays on self-realisation and self-healing

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

Foreign hands, or homegrown failure?