“Now with every gust of wind, the smell of dead bodies fills the air.” Thar Nge, a resident of Sagaing in Burma, was speaking to the conditions in earthquake-affected areas following the country’s catastrophic 7.7M earthquake on 28 March last month. Over four thousand people died in the disaster. For many in Nepal, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/photos-nepal-earthquake-2015,2207">scenes of the earthquake </a>on the news and photos on social media brought back painful memories of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu">the 2015 Nepal earthquake</a> 10 years ago this week. As a data analyst at Togglecorp, a private data analysis and software development company in Kathmandu, I have worked on several projects that included reviews of secondary data related to the most recent earthquakes in Burma, Morocco, Türkiye-Syria, and Nepal. The data shows a clear pattern and painful gaps in how countries respond to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-tale-of-two-disasters">large-scale disasters</a>. Analysis conducted through the Data Entry and Exploration Platform (DEEP) reveals a clear but grim reality: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/preserving-patan-post-earthquake">the cost of earthquakes</a> is not just measured in lives lost or buildings destroyed, but also in the speed, equity, and coordination of response efforts.<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later"> Some communities rebuild</a>, many are left behind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250424070420_af853d6ca37b2e338a359939119c313cb40d19c4b15e9e2d6a910d04969f76a7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250424070420_af853d6ca37b2e338a359939119c313cb40d19c4b15e9e2d6a910d04969f76a7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1414" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Technology and tectonics"> </figure>  The data exposed not only shared struggles between Nepal, Burma and other countries that have suffered from earthquakes, such as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/this-is-a-test">health system overloads and water-related disease outbreaks</a>, but also how drastically governance and politics affect outcomes. One theme that emerged, especially in Nepal and other countries in the region, is that earthquakes do not discriminate, but responses do. In the Burma earthquake, in some regions, 90% of homes were wiped out and over 28 hospitals were destroyed. Even as this happened, aid workers continued to face security threats while<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/helping-during-earthquake,2247"> delivering aid</a> and much-needed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/covid-19-relief-efforts">relief efforts</a>. Nepal faced similar hospital infrastructure challenges during the 2015 earthquake, where up to 90% of health facilities in districts like Sindhupalchok, Dolakha, and Gorkha were either destroyed or overwhelmed. In some areas, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-healer-of-far-western-nepal">doctors treated patients</a> in open fields, under tarpaulins, due to the collapse of ward buildings and lack of emergency tents. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/structural-problems">Structural problems</a>, Sonia Awale In the aftermath of the 2023 Türkiye-Syria earthquake, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-in-the-time-of-cholera">cholera outbreaks </a>surged due to failed water, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/toilet-trained-in-nepal">sanitation and hygiene systems</a>, and temporary tents could not keep up with displacement needs. While Nepal did not experience cholera outbreaks on that scale, post-quake <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-success-in-typhoid-vaccine-trial">diarrheal diseases</a> and sanitation concerns were widely reported, particularly in temporary camps with inadequate toilet facilities and poor hygiene practices. After the September 2023 earthquake in Morocco, because of the inaccessibility of many of its mountain villages, families had to dig with their bare hands to clear rubble while medical staff were forced to treat the sick and injured outdoors. Nepal shares similar geographic challenges seen in Morocco and Burma. During <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-better-than-before">the 2015 earthquake</a>, landslides and damaged roads cut off villages in Rasuwa, Gorkha, and Lamjung, forcing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/drones-to-the-rescue-in-melamchi">rescue teams</a> to rely on helicopters. Even today, remote hill and mountain areas, especially in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-karnali-s-hunger-emergency">Karnali </a>and Sudurpaschim provinces, remain hard to reach during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-more-women-die-in-nepal-s-natural-disasters">natural disasters</a>. While earthquakes are natural, the unequal and delayed response is manmade and preventable. Patterns across countries repeat, often due to preventable gaps. One glaring example is the chronic underfunding of Mental Health and Psychosocial Support despite growing recognition that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/it-s-an-emergency-nepal-needs-to-improve-trauma-care">trauma constitutes a silent second wave of devastation</a>. In Syria, only 3,000 people received <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14138">psychological first aid</a>, while over 1.5 million were displaced. In Burma, with over 9 million severely affected, most women and girls in areas like Sagaing and Mandalay had no access to<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13680"> mental health services</a>. Healthcare systems also collapsed quickly. Hospitals like Morocco’s Mohammed VI University Hospital treated patients outdoors, and Burma saw around 25 hospitals in Mandalay, 28 in Shan, 22 in Bago and 24 in Naypyitaw damaged or destroyed. While <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/artificially-intelligent-medicine">mobile medical units</a> have proven effective, reaching 7,870 people in Syria, they remain underused due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon">poor planning </a>and lack of pre-positioned support. Protection risks spiked in both Burma and Syria, where displaced women lacked safe shelters, lighting, or dignity kits. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/disastrous-preparedness">Nepal’s own experience in 2015</a> tragically echoes these patterns: mental health issues were sidelined, hospitals in districts like Sindhupalchok and Dolakha were affected, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/educating-your-sons-will-protect-your-daughters">gender-based protection</a> in temporary shelters was grossly inadequate. The lesson from this cross-country analysis is clear: unless countries like Nepal invest in mental health services, mobile health infrastructure, and gender-sensitive protection before disaster strikes, history will continue to repeat itself in harsh ways.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250424070424_d3c38d3935e61e2b4d0c2ec5b8fd67cc5f32b58ada6fb70fe979a12f8133ef1f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_25" data-image-id="20250424070424_d3c38d3935e61e2b4d0c2ec5b8fd67cc5f32b58ada6fb70fe979a12f8133ef1f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1414" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Technology and tectonics"> </figure>  Here is where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">technology</a> proves critical. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/finding-your-way-in-nepal?fbclid=IwAR3Ls8S90Qcjv8CYsuZb2QjaFaMKnOar0L2jDiT3D1o7hx8ipoJRrTUbXDI">Data and digital tools</a> can identify trends across borders, strengthen coordination, and improve early response. In Nepal, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/internet-in-everything">digital targeting tools</a> have helped humanitarian responders fine-tune who needs what and where, even in remote or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/civic-appeal-for-stability-and-governance">politically unstable settings</a>. For example, digital tools like Vulnerability Assessment Mapping and KOBO surveys were used after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviewing-lessons-of-the-2015-nepal-earthquake">Nepal’s 2015 earthquake </a>to identify <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bungamati-builds-back">vulnerable households</a> in hard-to-reach areas of Sindhupalchok and Dolakha, helping responders deliver aid more accurately. These platforms ensure that responses are not only faster and more efficient but also cost-effective, avoiding duplication and ensuring that limited resources go where they are needed most. By collecting and analysing the right kind of data, including field reports, government updates, and third-party insights, the analysis through a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/addressing-nepals-digital-divide">digital-first approach</a> can help shape a more inclusive, evidence-based response to disasters. The shift from ad hoc reaction to data-informed action allows us to save time, money, and lives. Ultimately, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/yes-quakes-can-be-forecast">earthquakes will continue to strike</a>, but how we respond can and must change. Tools like DEEP and the use of cross-crisis digital analysis are essential for humanitarian professionals to make smarter decisions, faster. With <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/back-to-classroom-for-earthquake-preparedness">better preparedness </a>plans, integrated <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bhaktapur-2-0-d8m66qhb">community-level responses</a>, and real-time insights, we can transform how governments and aid agencies protect people in moments of crisis. Earthquakes reveal more than seismic cracks: they expose the weaknesses in our humanitarian systems. And with the right tools and mindset, we can start sealing those cracks before the next tremors hit. Ruby Thapaliya is a Humanitarian Data Analyst with a background in public health, currently working at Togglecorp.

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Technology and tectonics

The relentless <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/solidarity-with-gaza" target="_blank">siege on Gaza</a> is a dark reflection on humanity. Well over <a href="https://reliefweb.int/report/occupied-palestinian-territory/100th-day-gaza-genocide-100000-palestinians-killed-missing-or-wounded-enar" target="_blank">100,000</a> Palestinians have been declared killed, injured, or missing over the past six months, and the overwhelming majority are innocent civilians who bear no responsibility for Hamas’ <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack" target="_blank">7 October attack.</a>&nbsp;
The United Nations Security Council has finally <a href="https://press.un.org/en/2024/sc15641.doc.htm" target="_blank">passed</a> a resolution calling for an immediate ceasefire and the immediate release of hostages held by Hamas. Now, all UN member states, particularly Israel’s political and military allies, must do everything in their power to ensure that the resolution is implemented in full as soon as possible.
For Gazans who survive Israel’s military assaults, a lethal combination of displacement, hunger, and disease awaits. Israel’s blockade of humanitarian supplies, food, and clean water has made life in the enclave a nightmare.&nbsp;
Aid agencies <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/women-gaza-birth-pregnancies-1.7143489#:~:text=Aid%20agencies%20and%20doctors%20say,and%20food%20for%20the%20infants." target="_blank">report</a> mothers giving birth without anaesthetics, babies dying from dehydration and malnutrition, and sickness ravaging entire communities. With no one in Gaza safe from massacre, we have reached the threshold of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2024/mar/22/unicef-official-utter-annihilation-gaza" target="_blank">population-scale annihilation</a>.
The trauma is now reverberating across the whole region. Gazans are haunted by post-traumatic stress disorder and grief, and more than one million children are in dire need of <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/statements/2024/02/child-rights-committee-statement-children-gaza" target="_blank">psycho-social support</a>. The latest devastation adds to the suffering inflicted by Israel’s 18-year-old <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/10/18/israel-unlawful-gaza-blockade-deadly-children" target="_blank">blockade of Gaza</a>.&nbsp;
And in the West Bank, Palestinians face multiple threats, from unconstrained settler violence and forced displacement to the constant threat of arbitrary detention.&nbsp;
At the same time, more than 100 Israelis and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-nepali-s-lucky-escape-from-hamas" target="_blank">many foreigners</a> are still held <a href="https://www.wsj.com/world/middle-east/hamas-hostages-israel-gaza-41432124" target="_blank">hostage</a> by Hamas, in contravention of international humanitarian law, prolonging the pain felt by their families and those of the civilians killed on 7 October.
Worse may come if Israel <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/the-international-order-is-dying-in-gaza" target="_blank">defies warnings</a> from its closest allies and moves ahead with its plans for an <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-68591487" target="_blank">assault on Rafah</a>, which is currently host to <a href="https://apnews.com/article/gaza-rafah-israel-hamas-war-photo-gallery-2a93ded7d44b9720d941f7e53c5bf45e" target="_blank">1.5 million people</a>, including over 600,000 children.&nbsp;
Many of those seeking refuge in this border city have already endured the trauma of multiple displacements over the past half-year. A full-scale Israeli military incursion must not be allowed to happen.
I write these words as someone who looked into the eyes of young Palestinians while preparing the 1996 UN report <a href="https://childrenandarmedconflict.un.org/about/the-mandate/mandate/the-machel-reports/" target="_blank">The Impact of Armed Conflict on Children</a>. Speaking to children in refugee camps, we promised that their suffering would end.&nbsp;
Not only have we failed to make good on that promise, we have left an even more hostile world for children who happen to be born Palestinian. I carry this haunting failure with me.
I also write these words as a member of The Elders, the group of independent global leaders that I co-founded with my late husband, Nelson Mandela, and which was chaired in its early years by Archbishop <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/desmond-tutu" target="_blank">Desmond Tutu</a> and former UN Secretary-General <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/kofi-a-annan" target="_blank">Kofi Annan</a>.&nbsp;
Madiba (Mandela) gave us a mandate to work for peace, justice, and human rights worldwide, and he always considered <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2023/12/5/unpack-the-past-mandela-the-keffiyeh-and-south-africas-palestine-embrace" target="_blank">Palestinian liberation</a> to be key to achieving a just and free world for all.&nbsp;
How can any of us speak credibly of universal human rights and the international rule of law when we permit brutality and occupation to continue for decades?
Amid such despair and lack of moral courage by those with the power to stop the current carnage in Gaza, I am proud of the exceptional leadership that South Africa has shown in bringing a <a href="https://www.icj-cij.org/node/203454" target="_blank">complaint against Israel</a> for violating the Genocide Convention at the International Court of Justice.&nbsp;
The ICJ’s preliminary ruling, on January 26, and the <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/jillgoldenziel/2024/04/01/why-the-international-court-of-justice-gave-israel-a-new-order/#:~:text=On%20March%2028%2C%20the%20International,what%20South%20Africa%20had%20requested." target="_blank">additional measures</a> ordered on March 28, explicitly condemn the atrocities taking place in Gaza and are unambiguous about the steps Israel must take to protect innocent Palestinians, including unhindered provision of humanitarian assistance at scale.
Israel and the countries providing it with military and financial assistance must heed the court’s findings and adhere to their obligations under international law. But we are not helpless in the face of this monumental suffering.&nbsp;
As members of one human family, we have an ethical duty to speak out against these injustices in our own circles of influence. We can wield power through our own individual and community activism. With our votes and protests, we can – and must – demand accountability from our political leaders.
Here is what we must demand. First, additional humanitarian land routes urgently need to be opened to meet the overwhelming need for life-saving aid. The safety of aid deliveries must be guaranteed at all times.&nbsp;
Air drops and the recently proposed <a href="https://www.middleeastmonitor.com/20240327-the-new-maritime-aid-corridor-poses-a-major-threat-to-gaza-and-egypt/" target="_blank">maritime corridor</a> are insufficient, and must not be allowed to absolve Israel of its own responsibility to civilians in Gaza.
Second, world leaders must use military and financial leverage to compel Israel to cease its violations of international law and comply with the ICJ’s orders. All countries providing military assistance to Israel should immediately put these shipments under review and set new conditions for future provision. Those that continue supplying arms are enabling the carnage and may be complicit in war crimes.
Third, decision-makers must provide full financial and political support to the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees. Many donors have rushed to <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/middle-east/20240205-as-donors-suspend-critical-funding-to-unrwa-allegations-against-staff-remain-murky" target="_blank">suspend funding</a> for the organization, pending the outcome of investigations into Israel’s allegations that some UNRWA staff participated in the October 7 attack.&nbsp;
This premature, disproportionate response is now irresponsibly endangering the rights and well-being of millions of Palestinian refugees. The Israeli government has made no secret of its desire to dismantle UNRWA once and for all. Will we allow it to become yet another casualty of the war?
The situation cries out for concerted action by a broad coalition of countries committed to a just and permanent peace that enables Israelis and Palestinians to co-exist under conditions of mutual respect, self-determination, dignity, and security. Palestinian and Israeli lives and security are of equal worth. If this fundamental truth does not prevail on political leaders and ordinary citizens, we will continue to forsake generations of innocent children.
Graça Machel is a Mozambican politician, Deputy Chair of The Elders and founder of the <a href="http://gracamacheltrust.org/new/" target="_blank">Graça Machel Trust</a>. She is the widow of former President of Mozambique Samora Machel and former President of South Africa Nelson Mandela. &nbsp;

The world’s moral failure in Gaza

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th 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. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>

humanitarian-aid

Technology and tectonics

The world’s moral failure in Gaza

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

The Himalaya is not fragile

My father’s son

The war between people