<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2023020814028/63e39f7f9c7e80680e0d6ff5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1112"/><figcaption>Chargé d'affaires L Douglas welcomes BP Koirala to the US Embassy inauguration in 1959</figcaption></figure>Having requested an appointment with the American Consulate in Calcutta, BP Koirala went to the Consulate on October 15, 1953, and talked with the American Consul, who sent a record of his conversation with Koirala to the American Embassy in New Delhi. The trenchant criticisms Koirala expressed about the dominant and controversial role India had assumed in the internal affairs of Nepal are well worth noting, particularly since BP was often accused of being ‘pro-Indian’ at the time.Back then, BP’s brother, MP Koirala, was in charge of the government, but there was no Nepali Congress member in the cabinet. King Tribhuvan had left Nepal in September for medical treatment in Switzerland. BP was president of the Nepali Congress but had held no government position since November 1951. The Congress itself was split into three factions, and the Koirala brothers remained at odds. This document (from which a few parenthetical remarks have been omitted here) is part of the U.S. State Department files on Nepal and was located in the U.S. National Archives in College Park, Maryland. American Consul Garrett Soulen who spoke with Koirala wrote the following report at the conclusion of the meeting:I [Consul Soulen] must say that after having read at least some of the press reports about B.P., I had expected a man older appearing in years and a person with more or less a firebrand temperament. I was surprised on both counts: B.P. appears to be not more than 35 or 36 (he says he is 40, with a 5-year-old son at school in Patna) and he was anything but a demagogue or a firebrand. I have seldom heard a less dispassionate recitation of facts and opinions from a purported nationalist. I was impressed with his [B.P.’s] apparent frankness and probable sincerity.I could not help but think many, many times during his conversation, “I have heard this before;” the correlation between the facts and opinions as [B.P.] recited them and like facts and opinions made to me by Sikkimese in regard to their state (Bhutan also) was striking to an extreme. The gist is “big stick GOI [Government of India] policies towards border states and against minorities in those border regions, coupled with a most inept implementation of such policies.” Despite the fact that we here in Calcutta, primarily because of the reserve exercised by Indian officials in discussing these matters, undoubtedly hear much more of the other side of the question than the GOI’s, it would appear that the implementation of GOI policy toward Nepal, Sikkim, Naga Hills, Lushai Hills, and to a lesser extent Bhutan (only because they hold themselves aloof) is always to the benefit of Indians, and especially from a monetary standpoint.Among the various subjects which B.P. brought up and on which he discoursed at some length, the following are worthy of note.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2023020814028/63e39f839c7e80680e0d6ff6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="768" height="514"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>[B.P.] saw Prime Minister Nehru August 13 and on a subsequent date. At both meetings when he endeavored to point out to Nehru the errors which the Indians were committing in Nepal in the implementation of their policy, he was cut off short and told that because of geographic location Nepal was going to have to develop under the aegis of the GOI. B.P. tried to point out that Nepalis were slowly but surely developing a nationalist spirit, that this nationalist spirit could be channeled into agreeable Indo-Nepal relations which could be mutually beneficial to both countries, or it could develop as a hard core of absolute independence from all other nations, or it could develop in such a way that Communists under the guise of nationalism and with the aid, abetment and tutelage of the Communists in Tibet (possibly with the help of Indian Communists as well) could establish a Red regime on the southern slopes of the Himalayas.When B.P. asked Nehru what Nehru’s intentions were for Nepal, Nehru reportedly was very angry with such a direct question and answered only to the effect that he, Nehru, wished to see a strong economically prosperous Nepal develop.On the Communist issue, B.P. claims Nehru lectured him severely to the effect that for the next ten years there would be no danger from Communism to India or Nepal, because “China has her hands full with her own problems.” (In our conversation this morning the USSR was never mentioned). In B.P.’s opinion, Nehru might possibly be correct with his ten-year prognostication if he is thinking only about armed invasion of the sub-continent. However, B.P. pointed out that even with plenty of problems on their hands in China, Korea, Indo-China and Tibet, the Chinese Communists and/or their Tibetan, Nepali and Indian cohorts could still carry out enough disruptive tactics, especially in the fields of economics, industry, finance and state administration, to seriously hamstring and thwart the efforts of any but a very strong, stable national government.[Regarding American TCA (Technical Cooperative Assistance)], B.P. said that until July 1953 he had been “quite friendly” with Paul Rose [head of the U.S. Point Four Program in Nepal] in Kathmandu and that although they had not discussed politics as such, B.P. thought Rose “understood his mind.” B.P. had occasionally visited Father Moran’s school [at Godawari] and had discussed many of his problems with that gentleman. He had over the previous year been in contact with other Americans and certain other foreigners, including British Ambassador Summerhayes, and certain FAO [the UN Food &amp; Agriculture Organization] people who had been to Nepal on inspection trips. During the August conversations, Nehru had brought these contacts to B.P.’s attention and in no uncertain terms had let it be known that the GOI did not approve of such activities, and that such contacts should cease, especially contacts with Americans. B.P. went no further than to say that Nehru had spoken deprecatingly about America.B.P. claims that the usurpation by the GOI of the most prominent place in Nepal’s economic and political situation is borne out by many facts. Among many which he mentioned [were that] M.P. Koirala is under the direct jurisdiction of the GOI. The GOI has also directly controlled the King. [U.S.] Ambassador Bowles’ endeavors to break through that barrier were unsuccessful. For example, a [U.S.] expert [on administration] by the name of [Merrill R.] Goodall, who is supposed to have been assigned in Nepal for a matter of three months as an adviser, lasted only two weeks before GOI forced his recall. The [American] TCA program in Nepal has been hamstrung, primarily by GOI intransigence, if not by design, which was reflected through the Government of Nepal’s lack of cooperation in getting its projects rolling. [An FAO expert] told B.P. it appeared to him that the GON was purposely holding back cooperation with TCA on the orders of the GOI.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2023020814028/63e39f869c7e80680e0d6ff7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="668"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal at the present time has 11,000 men under arms. Five thousand of these men are supposedly under training with the Indian Military Mission. The remaining 6,000 are under the Nepalese Army command. The Indian Military Mission rankles most Nepalese officers, and the same feeling against it is held by the majority of the rank and file. In B.P.’s opinion, there was absolutely no necessity for the GOI to set up this separate headquarters for its military mission. In fact, the mission itself is much too large, and its scope of operations is much broader than contemplated by any Nepali who entered into the negotiations. According to B.P., the Nepali Army needs outside assistance training in only two categories: (1) engineering troops, and (2) artillery. According to him, the Gurkhas have earned a world-wide reputation as excellent infantrymen not only in world wars but also in the continuous skirmishes and incidents in which the British (with Gurkha troops) have been engaged for many years. Nepalese officers, who during the last war had certain Indian officers under their command, now find themselves with those same officers in command of them, for training purposes but nevertheless on Nepal’s soil. Nepali army officers consider themselves superior soldiers to the Indian, and although they may not have as “smart a step or cut of uniform,” they are only too willing to stand on their reputation earned through actual battle experience. Nepali Army officers are fearful that the Indian Military Mission will break down the morale of the Nepali troops, for the Indian officers tend to be haughty with the Nepali officers and on many occasions criticize them in front of Nepali troops. Evidently B.P. took up the matter of the Indian Military Mission with Nehru in August, for he remarked that Nehru had said, “Well, we have at least made your troops smart,” (meaning good appearing for parade ground exhibitions). B.P. claims that the anti-Indian feeling (which he did not specifically mention as such) pervaded the entire Nepalese Army and the police force. He believes both units have a majority of men who are extremely nationalistic in outlook.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2023020814028/63e39f899c7e80680e0d6ff8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="2042"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Trade with Tibet is considerable. [B.P.] implied that India encouraged such trade and especially for Indian manufactured articles. He said that the Chinese in Tibet were assiduously cultivating Nepalese traders there, and that although these men were of small account financially and at present of little moment politically, nevertheless practically all of them were coming back into Nepal favorably impressed and to a certain extent condoning the Chinese action in Tibet. B.P. feels that these men, with their tales, have had and will continue to have a disturbing influence on the people in the mountains. He said it was not so much a question about the correctness or propriety of what the Chinese had done and were doing in Tibet, as it was the impression made on [Nepalese traders] of how much easier it is to live under a stable government (even totalitarian) than it is to live and do business in a country with practically no government.[Regarding the Indo-Nepal trade agreement of 1950], I cannot remember all the various details [B.P.] mentioned. The gist of it was, however, that India is now pressing for the Government of Nepal (which means private traders as well) to handle all of their imports into Nepal through GOI offices. I remember one specific example of what appears to be economic exploitation: Nepal imports considerable quantities of betelnut, primarily from Malaya. It used to be possible for a Nepali trader to deal directly with a trader in Malaya or some intermediary for this commodity. Now it has to be obtained through the GOI, and if there is a licensee in India for the import of this commodity, the Nepali trader must deal through that licensee, in effect making the Indian an extra middle man to squeeze out a bit more blood from the turnip.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2023020814028/63e39f8d9c7e80680e0d6ff9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="379"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When B.P. was speaking about exports, imports, Indian policy, etc., he said that in August Nehru, in pointing out to him the dangers of becoming dependent upon “great countries,” had told B.P. about [U.S.] Ambassador Allen’s representation to Nehru, because India had exported a ton of thorium to Communist China; the Battle Act was mentioned in this connection. [The U.S. Mutual Defense Assistance Control Act of 1951 banned U.S. assistance to countries doing business with the Soviet Union, and India refused to accept any American-imposed limits on its trade.] Nehru was evidently incensed over that episode and had spoken very disparagingly about the United States in that connection.B.P. claims to have very drastically revised his opinion of Nehru over the past year and a half. He said that in mid-1951 he had been warned by Jai Prakash Narayan that he, B.P., was putting much too much trust in Nehru for the good of Nepal. Narayan had continued with a softening remark to the effect that one must not put that much trust in any foreign nation’s prime minister, for countries, like people, are still antagonistic toward each other and try to take advantage. Since mid-1951, B.P. has realized more and more that Nehru is not the master of his own destiny and feels that during the past year Nehru has taken a backward step from his previous high ideals and ideology. B.P. implied that this change may have been forced upon Nehru, and actually said that a small group in the Ministry of External Affairs has been responsible for most of this retrogression. He gave Nehru the benefit of the doubt on general policy matters, but blamed Nehru for being so busy with so many things that he could not properly control his lieutenants. B.P. said that when he spoke to Nehru about generalities, they were in near agreement, but when it came to discussion of the implementation of policy, Nehru invariably became upset to the point of anger and would not listen to reason. B.P. believes that Nehru’s subordinates force upon Nehru their own ideas when it comes to implementation [of policy]; the result is probably not what Nehru had anticipated. B.P. said there is the possibility that Nehru is the kind of man who believes he must back up his subordinates in the decisions which they take whether they are right or wrong—in any event, the developing situation is not one which could be considered conducive to good Indo-Nepal relations.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2023020814028/63e39f909c7e80680e0d6ffajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="920"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>B.P. stated categorically that the situation within Nepal was deteriorating and had been for the past nine months. He claims to be most anxious over the way the Communist situation will develop this next winter and spring. As he expressed it, the Communist Party is under ban but is still operating quite openly. The people are extremely dissatisfied not only with their economic ills but with the fact that their government is not a government, that day by day it becomes more and more a puppet, subject to the whims of GOI. The Nepalese people, at least those in the Valley, are fast losing faith in what government there is, and as a result, seeing practically only one alternative—Communism—are slowly but surely tending to listen more and more to the promises and claims put out by its adherents.B.P. asked for nothing. He did say that he had hoped on his last visit to New Delhi to see Ambassador Allen but that circumstances had been inopportune. He mentioned the fact that he had no contact with the [U.S.] Embassy. I offered no help in this regard, but merely expressed my pleasure in having had an opportunity to listen to him.Note: The above passage has been reprinted by permission from the recent book, America Meets Nepal, 1944-1952: Problems, Personalities and Political Change, by Daniel W. Edwards. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/last-days-with-bp-koirala/">Last Days with BP Koirala</a> <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11692#.Y7jap-xBz9E">Forgetting to remember BP</a>, Ted Riccardi<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup/">America, Nepal and the Royal Coup</a>, Tom Robertson<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6932#.Y7jbnexBz9E">Back at Sundarijal &gt;1</a>

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Conversation between BP Koirala and the American Consul in Calcutta in 1953

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

Sky is the limit

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

Nepal’s AI-generated election

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

Time, transience, transition

The slow, arduous labour of democracy rarely announces itself with the fanfare of constitutional moments. &nbsp;It proceeds instead through committee rooms, ward meetings, half-attended assemblies, the awkward choreography of speech and silence, and the everyday compromises between aspiration and constraint.&nbsp; The book Nepal’s Federalism and the Pursuit of Deliberative Democracy attends precisely to this unglamorous terrain. In it, Vishnu Kumari Tandon does not ask whether democracy is desirable — an already settled question — but whether it can be made to think, to listen, and to endure under conditions of inequality, historical fracture, and institutional novelty.&nbsp; Her wager is modest yet demanding: that federalism, when tethered to participatory planning and deliberative fors, might recalibrate the relationship between state and citizen without promising redemption. Tandon’s Nepal is neither a site of democratic salvation nor a study in failure. It is a space of trial, where ideas migrate from constitutional text to municipal practice, altered by context, power, and expectation. Democracy here appears not as an ideal form but as a situated practice -- procedural, contested, and unfinished.&nbsp; The book’s quiet achievement lies in redirecting debates on deliberative democracy away from abstract normativity and toward the ethical friction of lived institutions. Federalism arrives in Nepal not as a technocratic reform but as a historical concession, wrested from conflict, exclusion, and prolonged political unrest. Tandon, who is a governance consultant at the World Bank, situates the 2015 Constitution within this unsettled genealogy, treating federalism less as an administrative innovation than as a moral response to longstanding claims of marginalisation.&nbsp; The constitutional recognition of local autonomy is thus freighted with ethical expectation. Yet the book refuses to equate decentralisation with empowerment. Federalism, Tandon insists, redistributes power without dissolving hierarchy. Domination may simply reappear closer to home. The central question, therefore, is not whether local governments exist, but how they govern: whether institutionalised participation genuinely alters the terms on which citizens speak, decide, and contest public priorities. Federalism emerges not as a stable structure but as a field of tension—between autonomy and dependence, inclusion and capture, aspiration and capacity. It is within this unstable terrain that the democratic experiment unfolds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127090120_62bd86d5cbb0dc9d199b797b2c90a5be37213b6c9236f79220706469cd3689a0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127090120_62bd86d5cbb0dc9d199b797b2c90a5be37213b6c9236f79220706469cd3689a0" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Vishnu Kumari Tandon"> <figcaption>Vishnu Kumari Tandon</figcaption> </figure>  UNEQUAL SKIES&nbsp; Participation, one of democracy’s most invoked terms, often risks conceptual exhaustion. Tandon restores its weight by treating participation as labour rather than ritual. Drawing on fieldwork in Buddhabhumi and Dhanushadham municipalities, she reconstructs the choreography of local planning: assemblies, committees, and councils through which proposals circulate, stall, or vanish. Participation here is unevenly distributed. It is shaped by gendered expectations, caste hierarchies, economic precarity, and anticipations of return. Attendance becomes a calculation rather than a civic reflex. This analytical attention to motivation marks one of the book’s strengths.&nbsp; Citizens participate not out of abstract virtue but through pragmatic reasoning, moral obligation, and strategic interest. Participation thus appears neither ennobling nor cynical, but politically intelligible. If participation concerns presence, deliberation concerns voice — and, crucially, whose voice matters. Tandon’s engagement with deliberative democratic theory is respectful yet revisionist. Habermasian ideals of reasoned consensus are treated as aspirational rather than portable, strained by structural inequality. In municipal assemblies, deliberation is patterned by authority: who speaks first, who commands attention, whose claims are legitimised. Marginalised citizens may be present without influence, audible without consequence. Deliberation risks becoming procedural affirmation rather than substantive redistribution of voice. Yet Tandon does not abandon deliberation as a democratic practice. Instead, she broadens its normative horizon. Drawing on second-generation deliberative theory, she legitimises emotion, self-interest, and strategic speech as components of democratic reasoning. Deliberation becomes a contested exchange rather than a purified rationality. The common good, if it appears, emerges provisionally: negotiated rather than presumed. One of the book’s most original contributions lies in its treatment of fiscal decentralisation. Money is not merely a resource but a language through which priorities are articulated and participation structured. The devolution of budgetary authority transforms deliberation into distributive politics. Citizens attend assemblies not simply to speak but to secure roads, water systems, clinics, schools. Voice is tethered to material expectation. This proximity intensifies engagement while sharpening conflict. Fiscal autonomy thus amplifies the stakes of deliberation without guaranteeing its equity. Local representatives emerge as paradoxical figures: empowered yet constrained, accountable yet insulated. Tandon resists binary judgments, showing instead how fiscal decentralisation deepens democratic possibility while exposing institutional fragility. Threaded through the book is a sustained interrogation of the ‘common good’. Revered in theory and suspect in practice, the concept is neither discarded nor sanctified. In unequal societies, appeals to the common good can obscure asymmetries of sacrifice. Empirically, deliberation proceeds through articulated self-interests: neighbourhood demands, caste claims, gendered priorities. Far from undermining democracy, these claims animate it. Self-interest becomes deliberation’s motor rather than its negation. The book thus advances a quiet ethical argument: democracy does not require the transcendence of interest, but its articulation under conditions of mutual visibility. The common good, if it exists, is emergent, fragile, and revisable. Institutions, for Tandon, are moral technologies. Laws mandate participation, but they cannot generate trust, courage, or equality. Procedural compliance may coexist with substantive exclusion. Yet repetition matters. Even imperfect fora can cultivate habits of speaking and being heard. Deliberative democracy, the book suggests, is not an event but a discipline, learned slowly, unevenly, and reversibly. Federalism is less a solution than a condition: one that opens space for democratic learning without securing its outcome. Firmly grounded in Nepal’s political history, the book resists parochialism. Nepal functions as a mirror, reflecting broader dilemmas of democratic deepening across unequal societies. Comparative resonances with Brazil, India, and donor-driven governance reforms are handled without formula or prescription. Nepal is neither an exemplar nor an exception. It is a site where democracy reveals its ordinary difficulties. The prose mirrors the argument: careful, analytic, resistant to grand claims. What lingers is not a verdict but a sensibility: an attentiveness to democracy’s tempo. Deliberative democracy appears less as consensus achieved than as disagreement sustained without rupture. In an age of democratic impatience, Tandon offers a quieter ethic. Democracy must be allowed to think slowly, to falter, and to learn. This book stands as a thoughtful companion to that discipline, reminding us that democratic transformation often occurs far from the centre, in places where speaking itself remains an achievement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127090112_4bd0fdb8c4ef4e44c21e9cba4ae63a8481ca1d61bb20f716b29f649bcdf1a4bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260127090112_4bd0fdb8c4ef4e44c21e9cba4ae63a8481ca1d61bb20f716b29f649bcdf1a4bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Federalism book details NT"> </figure>  Aftab Husain is a Pakistan-born poet and literary and cultural critic. He teaches South Asian literature and culture at the University of Vienna.

government-of-india

Conversation between BP Koirala and the American Consul in Calcutta in 1953

Sky is the limit

Nepal’s AI-generated election

Time, transience, transition

Nepal’s slow grammar of democracy