The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu">Kathmandu Valley civilisation</a> can also be called a hydrological culture where sophisticated<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-needs-to-plan-for-plenty-and-scarcity-of-water"> water management</a> allowed densely-packed settlements to co-exist with intense <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming">agriculture</a> on the fertile soil of the former lake-bed. Both needed plenty of water, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/geopolitics-of-nepal-s-rivers">the Valley’s rivers </a>are not snowfed. So, the rulers of the kingdoms sourced them from the surrounding hills in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-ancient-water-spouts-still-functioning">network of canals </a>that did not just provide water for irrigation and fill ponds that recharged ground water, but also ensured urban supply through sunken spouts called hiti.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025032705030_4e0cf8c700f36086c3ea12917b03f2ae1f5224db3c9eac61c02b9a2a0d3ba91a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025032705030_4e0cf8c700f36086c3ea12917b03f2ae1f5224db3c9eac61c02b9a2a0d3ba91a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1227" loading="lazy" alt="Hiti "> <figcaption>Photo: HAYLEY SAUL</figcaption> </figure>  The fact that the hiti system is still a vital source of water for the residents of inner city <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-green-city-is-a-smart-city">Kathmandu</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/patan-for-beginners">Patan</a> or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/clash-of-cultures-in-bhaktapur">Bhaktapur </a>despite rapid urbanisation is a testament to the engineering and planning expertise of our ancestors dating back to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/losing-loose-change-in-nepal">Lichhavi period</a> (400–750 CE) and later expanded during the Malla era (10th–18th century CE). ‘The Liquid Landscape of Kathmandu Valley: Hiti Pranali Water Heritage’ is a new exhibition at<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/patans-museum-piece"> Patan Museum</a> to pay tribute to this <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/culture-cannot-be-an-afterthought">cultural heritage</a> and explores recent archaeological research that offers solutions to not just their preservation but also to maintain them to supplement modern systems.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/saving-nepal-s-hiti-heritage">Saving Nepal’s hiti heritage</a> The research by Hayley Saul of Heritage for Global Challenges Research Centre and PhD scholar Anoj Khanal at the University of York in the UK entailed using Ground Penetration Radar (GPR) to generate electromagnetic waves to map underground water conduits. Collaborating in the research was engineer and author of the seminal book Hiti Pranali, Padma Sunder Joshi of the Madan Bhandari University of Science and Technology. “We used GPR to explore if we can find filtration systems or functions that allow for the flow and control of water and its distribution,” Saul explained. Although many of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-with-the-old-in-nepal">historical monuments of the Valley</a> that were destroyed in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu">the 2015 earthquake </a>have now been rebuilt, there has been minimal work in finding out about underground water conduits that may have been damaged, and in their restitution. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present">A portal into Patan’s past and present</a>, Prakriti Kandel GPR technology can be used to map the main canals (raj kulo) and their branches, explore how they were designed and built in the first place, without having to carry out expensive excavation -- which would be difficult anyway because much of the Valley floor is now built up.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025032705038_c51c4e9e1a59d413f652d10f78b1ea7ee49a6c02e4ca01dff29c1ed79df10796.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025032705038_c51c4e9e1a59d413f652d10f78b1ea7ee49a6c02e4ca01dff29c1ed79df10796" data-rendition-name="original" width="14888" height="10627" loading="lazy" alt="Hiti GPR results"> <figcaption>Photo: HAYLEY SAUL and ANOJ KHANAL</figcaption> </figure>  Local governments can now use the data collected by the researchers to map out the network canals, enforce building restrictions if needed and to maintain them.&nbsp; The hiti of Kathmandu were not just functional, but sacred and served as social and spiritual hubs. They provided water for drinking, laundry, household use, rituals, while also serving as gathering places for communities.&nbsp; With the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/water-for-the-ages"> introduction of modern water mains </a>from the late 19th century onwards and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">rapid urban growth</a>, many hiti have fallen into disrepair or dried up. Of the at least 573 stone spouts once counted in Kathmandu Valley, many are lost, damaged, or no longer functional due to neglect, pollution, and encroachment of ponds and canals that feed them. Joshi explains that<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/thimi-s-urban-tissue"> Kathmandu’s ancient urban planners </a>developed the hiti network after the kingdoms located to higher ground to leave the lower areas for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal">agriculture</a>. It forced them to devise ways to bring water through a network of canals fed by aquifiers, and use the gradient to sunken hiti stone spouts for distribution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025032705034_ae12c7503ea6717c4a727a1c14a500f964e0e86668f9f923950cfb8a6c907d81.png" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025032705034_ae12c7503ea6717c4a727a1c14a500f964e0e86668f9f923950cfb8a6c907d81" data-rendition-name="original" width="890" height="677" loading="lazy" alt="Hiti map"> </figure>  The exhibition at Patan Museum also demonstrates that the hiti system incorporates space for living beings, making it a self-functioning <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-tigers-trees-and-rivers">ecosystem </a>in itself. The existence of plants such as ferns and algae, and snakes and frogs indicate a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/orchids-of-godavari-phulchoki">healthy ecosystem </a>in the sunken spouts. Absence of such biodiversity today indicates that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-waters-of-life">water systems</a> have been degraded or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/too-little-too-much-or-too-polluted">polluted</a>. “The<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-must-keep-water-on-its-land"> ponds </a>were used to collect water and recharge groundwater and aquifers,” explains Joshi. “They were primarily used for farming ducks which needed the algae in the ponds as food.”&nbsp; Every June just before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon">the monsoon</a>, Kathmandu Valley’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-marks-ihi-with-a-difference">Newa community </a>ritually cleans wells and other sources of water to maintain drainage and ensure that they serve as effective storage systems. Which is why Kathmandu’s hydrological culture is such an important part of its civilisation to this day.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250327100320_02d01e05c3f8aa3cde1f5af1569e8e09bf84dee88ebda76bb68ee0e0df669c80.png" data-media-id="editor_29" data-image-id="20250327100320_02d01e05c3f8aa3cde1f5af1569e8e09bf84dee88ebda76bb68ee0e0df669c80" data-rendition-name="original" width="1339" height="634" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu hiti NT"> </figure>  Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-water-emergency">The Water Emergency</a>, Ajaya Dixit The underground network of water canals also showed advanced engineering skills, and the system was so well built that it has lasted centuries, even though local communities may have lost the skills needed to build and maintain them. Says Anoj Khanal, “The wisdom from the past must be preserve and used. The technique and knowledge must be adapted to the modern times.” The York University team used the GPR technology at 33 hiti sites in Patan, and now hope to do similar research in Kathmandu.&nbsp; The hiti system thrived because it worked in balance with nature which has been disrupted with modern pressures as over-extraction of ground water and the disappearance of recharge ponds. Pollution from septic tanks and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/blueprint-for-a-net-zero-nepal">industrial waste</a> contaminate aquifers, while <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown</a> alter rainfall patterns. Many hiti that once flowed year-round are now dry even during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/soon-monsoon">the monsoon</a>.&nbsp; The hiti exhibition showcases the intricate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage">heritage of Kathmandu Valley</a>’s water supply network and how <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">modern technology</a> can help restore them. It is also a call to action to preserve the canals, spouts, ponds and the catchment areas on the Valley’s rim.&nbsp; Says Khanal, “It is possible to revive the hiti using the maps of water conduits underground to figure out alternate routes where water can flow. It is better late than never.” The Liquid Landscape of Kathmandu Valley: Hiti Pranali Water Heritage Until 30 March Patan Museum

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Kathmandu’s liquid landscape

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141156/636d02fd9c7e80680e0a36adjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6720" height="4480"/><figcaption>Photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Ratna Man Shrestha has spent his entire life in Kirtipur, the ancient hilltop town overlooking Kathmandu Valley. Year after year, the 78-year-old has seen his neighbourhood change.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Traditional narrow houses</a> with exposed brick, carved <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/coming-out-of-the-woodwork/?preview_nonce=9d7ef77938" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wooden windows</a> and tile roofs have given way to high rise concrete boxes, rented by recently arrived residents. On the streets, the friendly Newa “jwajalapa” greeting is now interspersed with “lhasso” and “fyafulla” of the new arrivals.Even the humble falcha rest stop in front of his house, where he grew up playing as a child, hanging out with friends as he got older, and even took refuge after the 2015 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/building-back-cheaper-and-stronger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">earthquake</a>, has changed."It was all wood when we were young, then they tore it down and rebuilt it using concrete,” says Ratna Man.Falcha are not just a part of Kathmandu Valley’s architectural heritage, but buildings around which much of the life of a neighbourhood took place. They used to be where pilgrims and traders could spend the night free of cost, or where the community came together during <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-festivals-muted-amidst-coronavirus-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">festivals and jatra.</a>https://youtu.be/X__-y8ZPvqMRecently, Ratna Man noticed that his neighbourhood falcha was being renovated again, but this time being restored to its quaint original design with carved wooden columns, beams, tile roof and traditional brick masonry and even a stone Ganesh figure in an alcove.Many of the rest stops here were damaged or demolished over time. Others lost their traditional design, and were replaced with soulless concrete structures housing various community clubs.But Kirtipur is now leading the way in reviving the humble falcha so that it will also bring back not just their traditional architecture, but stimulate the culture and community spirit associated with them.“This is what it used to look like in the old days,” Ratna Man tells us. ‘I hope it stays this way.”Walking down the lanes of Kirtipur, or indeed any of the other old towns of Kathmandu Valley, it is easy to visualise what the old Newa settlements looked like: narrow stone-paved alleys lined with houses leading to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-loses-its-open-spaces/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">open courtyards</a> and the ubiquitous falcha meant for travelers and locals alike.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141156/636d03019c7e80680e0a36aejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6720" height="4480">The open rest stops were located near wells or <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-temple-by-another-name/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">temples,</a> along busy thoroughfares or tucked in the alleys, often built by the nobility as a part of their community responsibility. But with haphazard urbanisation, road expansion and changing lifestyles, the Valley’s architecture and street life has been transformed.Many of the rest stops here were damaged or demolished over time. Others lost their traditional design, and were replaced with soulless concrete structures housing various community clubs.Since taking office, Kirtipur Mayor Ramesh Maharjan and his team have renovated and rebuilt more than 20 falcha in the Municipality, which has a population of 70,000.“A <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/crafting-a-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">tangible heritage</a> like falcha is an integral part of our identity,” says Maharjan. “It was important to restore them to their original style, but they are also a part of our intangible heritage, providing a place for the community to gather, especially for older residents to relax.”Architects and engineers from the municipality were involved in the study and design of the rest stops, with a particular focus on maintaining the traditional look and ambience of the falcha.“In the past, many of the falcha were turned into concrete structures and the essence was lost, we wanted to make sure that was not the case this time,” adds Maharjan.As Kirtipur’s falcha are restored, the rest stops are once more filled with people, mostly senior citizens from the neighbourhood, to chat, or watch passersby and children play nearby.Come evening, the historic town resonates with the sound of Dafa Bhajan as old and young gather in neighbourhood falcha to perform devotional songs accompanied by traditional instruments.“Without falcha, it would not be possible to continue this tradition,” says Badri Lal Shrestha, who on a recent Saturday evening was busy playing madal on the ground floor of a renovated falcha for an impromptu performance.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141156/636d03069c7e80680e0a36afjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6720" height="4480">“This gives us not only a space to come together but a place to store our musical instruments. It would be inconvenient to sing and play out in the open,” he adds. This falcha is built in the sattal style, with the ground floor is used for bhajan, and the first floor as storage.There are now 17 dafa groups active in Kirtipur, up from 11 from a few years back, and Mayor Maharjan says it was because restoring the falcha has also brought back the traditional activities that used to happen in them.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141156/636d030a9c7e80680e0a36b0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6720" height="4480">Buddhi Kumari Shrestha is happy that the rest stop in his Bahiri Gaun neighbourhood is finally being renovated. “This is the route for the Gaijatra procession takes place, so now we will have a space to watch it from. After all what is a jatra without viewers,” she says.To make the rest stops pay for their own maintenance, the municipality plans to generate income from them. “We can display and sell traditional arts and crafts, as well as traditional Newa food during festivals,” says the mayor. “The idea is to make the falcha pay for itself.”

Sahina Shrestha

Restoring rest houses to revive culture

Nepalis have rebuilt after every natural calamity of the past, but this time we got foreigners to do it for us<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c9f09c7e80680e02f2ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="934"/><figcaption>Bikram Rai</figcaption></figure>When the world has no more problems and challenges to resolve, we shall all have only three professions to choose from: art, music and cooking.Proof of that are found in the lanes and courtyards of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/patan-museum-updated,1304">ancient towns</a> of Kathmandu Valley. We have done well on all three fronts. Our cultural and natural <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/On-the-way-up/untie-the-knot-in-heritage-reconstruction,862">heritage of the Valley</a> was once the envy of the world, and people came to experience and study them.Then it became, and still is, an exotic tourist destination. The <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Monumental-loss,2215">earthquake of 2015 destroyed</a> over 700 of these globally unique monuments and people are not so sure if they will ever be restored again. One challenge is that the people who have been put in charge of the agencies dedicated for the purpose have no love for this culture, and seem to think wide roads and high rises are more important to turn this ancient civilisation into a modern metropolis.Then there are the landlords who calculate that the more floors they can add on top of their precarious buildings, more rooms they can rent out. There is virtually no regard for heritage features.The third is another section of society which is now really good at begging. They are dependent on outsiders to fix whatever is broken or not working in this country. The way <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/a-rising-nepal,2968">Bouddha was restored</a> in record time with local resources and leadership is a real threat to this group that depends on handouts.In each of the above we are measuring the wrong indices: how wide is the street, how much more can I earn in rent each month, and the size of the foreign grant for restoration. Kathmandu valley’s heritage is being smothered, and this attitude could be the final nail in its coffin.There are two challenges to heritage restoration that are critical: one is the land trust that historically provided the perpetual (annual) payment in grain to the artists, and secondly the guilds that were well organised for centuries to provide the needed skilled and knowledgeable human resources to carry out the restoration work on a regular basis.The feudal state system of the past 250 years ‘nationalised’ a lot of the land to maintain the Jagir system, and the process continues today to expand roads, build offices/barracks and other infrastructure. There is a section of Nepali society that cannot tolerate trees, open spaces and wetlands. They do not see <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/draining-the-swamp/">Rani Pokhari</a> as water storage and recharge system, but see it as prime real estate to enrich themselves and their political bosses.Our country is so great that we have foreigners build us toilets, schools and health posts. They provide us garbage trucks and ambulances. Now, we are seeing <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/kathmandu-monumental-rivalry,4209">our monuments being rebuilt with foreign aid</a> (picture of Hanuman Dhoka, above). Within the next 100 years, there will surely be another earthquake or another manmade disaster. It is scary and sad to think that the restoration we see of our monuments today could well be the last time they are rebuilt. It has happened to many cities and civilisations all over the world, and our heritage is next in line.Unless politicians wake up to see that Nepalis have been rebuilding by themselves after every natural calamity of the past, not much will change.The tourism sector also needs to realise that it depends on having these monuments and the cultural heritage preserved into the future by ourselves.Perhaps UNESCO will one day wake up to the fact that it has no work in Nepal because there are no more monuments to monitor and write emails about. What will happen if the young artists say we shall not give up without a fight? These monuments, the city, the culture and identity of an entire population will disappear if we are not willing to resist the forces bent upon destroying them.It will be a difficult uphill battle, but it can be done. The people of<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapur-shows-the-way-by-rebuilding-itself/"> Bhaktapur have shown leadership</a> in conservation for decades, and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/piece-by-piece-patan-darbar-square-reconstruction,3782">Patan is doing it now</a>. The people of Khokana are organising to defend heritage sites against infrastructure development.We do not have to wait long to see which side will prevail. The question is: which side are youon?Anil Chitrakar is President of Siddharthinc.Read Also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/kathmandu-monumental-rivalry,4209">A monumental rivalry</a>, Om Astha rai<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/restoring-bhai-dega-temple-in-patan,4046">Tangible restoration</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Anil Chitrakar

Measuring what matters

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;