<figure><img width="960" height="640" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c179c7e80680e0bd473jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Although Nepal is used to localised rains even post-monsoon, last October saw unprecedented nationwide downpour. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI.</figcaption></figure>On 11 October 2021, Nepal’s Department of Hydrology and Meteorology declared that the southwest monsoon had officially exited the country. Paddy fields across the country were golden with ripening rice, and Nepalis were getting ready to prepare for the Dasain festival.On 15 October, the Met Office reported that a westerly system had become active, and there was likely to be some rain. Indeed, the frontal system lashed the Indian state of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/more-himalayan-tsunamis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Uttarakhand</a>, triggering landslides and causing <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandus-flash-floods-are-4-decades-in-the-making/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">flash floods</a>.Nepal is used to localised rains even after the monsoon ends, but this was the first time in 12 years that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">there was widespread nationwide rain in October</a>. And it was not just ordinary showers, the cloudbursts dumped more than 500mm of rain in Dadeldhura on 17-19 October. Sunsari got nearly 400mm in just 24 hours on 19-20 October.Landslides and floods killed over 120 people across the country, 28 are still missing. Nepal’s Ministry of Agriculture had predicted paddy harvests to exceed target because of a healthy monsoon, but the unexpected rain in October cost nearly Rs12 billion in damage to the rice crop, reducing Nepal’s GDP by 0.6%. Sudurpaschim Province alone <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/post-monsoon-rain-ruins-nepals-crops/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lost up to one-third of paddy that was ready for harvest</a>. <figure><img width="597" height="321" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c199c7e80680e0bd474jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>24-hour rainfall 18-19 October. Source: DHM</figcaption></figure>Roads, bridges, irrigation schemes and hydropower plants were damaged or destroyed. There was $85 million damage to 26 hydroelectric schemes.     Since then, climate scientists and meteorologists have been scratching their heads to figure out what happened, and why there were not more accurate weather forecasts about the severity of the unseasonal precipitation.A new paper ‘<a href="http://isetnepal.org.np/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/Early-Warning-System-in-October-2021-Rainfall-Final.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Missed Opportunities in Utilisation of Weather Forecasts: An Analysis of the October 2021 Disaster in Nepal</a>’ by risk reduction experts Dinanath Bhandari and Ajaya Dixit investigates what happened, if it could have been foreseen, and how it can be prevented in future.The authors look at the challenge of predicting post-monsoon and winter precipitation, and how <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the global climate crisis is affecting rainfall patterns</a> that used to be fairly regular in the past. The paper analyses precipitation data since 1971 to show that total post-monsoon rains have gone down all over Nepal except parts of the trans-Himalaya.‘Existing meteorological stations are inadequate to cover the diversity of Nepal’s microclimates, and the high mountain and remote regions have fewer stations than required for climate trend analysis,’ the paper notes. <figure><img width="592" height="318" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c1a9c7e80680e0bd475jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>24-hour rainfall October 19-20. Source: DHM</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="592" height="318" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c1c9c7e80680e0bd476jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>24-hour rainfall October 20-21. Source: DHM</figcaption></figure>The authors also look into why there was widespread damage and human casualties despite weather alerts through media. Although the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology did predict rain, the messaging did not include location and time-specific impact-based forecasting, they say.Although the National Disaster Risk Management and Mitigation Authority (NDRMMA) did issue early warnings through social media platforms, including daily situation reports, the paper says that these tended to focus on post-event rescue and relief, and not enough on early warning.Even when the correct forecast was available, there was not enough coordination with various other agencies of government like the Ministry of Agriculture, the Ministry of Local Development, local governments, as well as the security agencies for emergency rescue. <figure><img width="649" height="360" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c1e9c7e80680e0bd477jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Stations with over 200 mm of accumulated rainfall in 2021 October</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="608" height="674" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c209c7e80680e0bd478jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Maximum 24-hour October rainfall above 140 mm in October (1951 to 2009)</figcaption></figure>This could have been due to the impending Dasain holiday mood, but the authors also blame ‘location specific impact-based rainfall forecasts’. In other words, the early warning was too general. The authors imply that the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology should not just be in the business of issuing forecasts, but also work with local authorities for preparedness and timely action.  ‘The argument that the frequency of extreme rainfall events in the post-monsoon has increased seems to be valid,’ the paper says. ‘In 2009, the post-monsoon high rainfall was concentrated in west Nepal. It was the same initially in 2021, but the widespread and unseasonal rainfall last year seemed to catch everyone by surprise and there was not even some semblance of preparedness for rescue and relief to be dominant in disaster management response.’Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lessons-still-not-learnt/">Lessons still not learnt</a>, Editorial

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Post-disaster lessons for Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108111152/636a35859c7e80680e0482b4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>BOLT FROM THE BLUE: A cloud to ground lightning flash strikes Chobar, illuminating Swayambhu and the Balaju area of Kathmandu in 2011. Photo: SHRI RAM SHARMA</figcaption></figure>The devastating <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/groound-zero-in-pheta/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">tornado that ravaged Bara</a> and Parsa districts last week, killing 28 people and injuring 600, made daily headlines. But lightning strikes kill more people annually in Nepal than floods and storms, yet do not get as much attention.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/lightning-strikes-killing-people-in-Nepal,2940" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lightning</a> is responsible for 24,000 deaths worldwide every year. In Nepal, after the 2015 earthquake, lightning accounted for the highest number of deaths due to disaster in the last eight years, with 840 fatalities. In fact, Nepal tops the list of countries with the most lightning fatalities per unit area. More people die every year in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-if-it-roars-go-indoors,529">electric storms</a> in Nepal than in the whole of North America.Janak Rawal, 14, of Accham lost his life when he was struck by lightning at his house on Monday night. Sixteen others sustained injuries. A similar incident in Mechinagar Rural Municipality on the same day claimed the life of Prakash Raut and left two injured. Recently, three people in Baitadi were struck with lightning as they were using their mobile phones outside their homes.“We ignore lightning because unlike other disasters it rarely leads to mass casualties. The strikes are sporadic and scattered, but it is a major killer nonetheless,” says Shri Ram Sharma, professor at Amrit Science Campus in Kathmandu.Sharma developed a keen interest in lightning after his sister was struck by a thunderbolt when he was a child and survived miraculously. He now researches lightning strike patterns in Nepal.<iframe id="datawrapper-chart-qbO1M" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important;" title="Lightning Fatalities in Nepal" src="//datawrapper.dwcdn.net/qbO1M/2/" height="600" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" aria-label="Nepal districts (2018) choropleth map"></iframe>Since 2011, lightning fatalities have exceeded 100 every year except in 2015/16 and 2018/19. In 2015, the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/27/a-month-that-felt-like-a-year/">Nepal earthquake</a> struck during the pre-monsoon and lead to miscalculations on total deaths caused by lightning. The sharp decline in human fatalities this year is mostly due to under-reporting. Lightning strikes are also occurring more often at unusual times, such as early mornings and late nights, when people are safe in their homes.However, the decreases in these two years are anomalies in the overall trend of fatalities, which are much higher. This could be due to better reporting after the National Emergency Operation Centre was set up at the Home Ministry five years ago, but studies have also linked the increase in intensity and frequency of thunderstorms to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-normal-2/">climate change</a>.A 2014 report in the journal Science stated that for every 1 degree Celsius of warming, there is a 12% increase in lightning activity, meaning that the number of strikes in the United States could increase 50% by the end of the century.Nepal has just experienced an unusual winter with heavy precipitation, and rare thunderstorms. Such storms are uncommon in winter in the Himalayas, occuring primarily in the pre-monsoon season between March-June as a result of convection systems created when hot air from the Indian plains rises along the mountains.“Extreme weather events caused by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/on-thin-ice-in-the-khumbu/">climate change</a> have a role in increasing the electric charge inside clouds and occur at times when they traditionally would not,” explained Sharma. “This has added to Nepal’s pre-existing vulnerability as one of the countries most susceptible to lightning fatalities.”Globally, up to 95% of all lightning is negatively charged, but it is the 5% of positively charged lightning strikes that are more lethal. In Nepal 34% of all cloud-to-ground strikes are positively charged.Nepal’s topography, and the proximity of eastern mountains to moisture from the Bay of Bengal, make the country more prone to thunderstorms. The other reasons for the country's high fatality rate is that lightning from storm clouds travels much shorter distances to reach the ground in the high mountains. Nepal is also the most densely populated mountainous country in the world.Within Nepal itself, a districtwise breakdown of fatalities (see charts)  shows that Makwanpur is the most dangerous, with 54 deaths and 245 injuries due to lightning in the last five years.<iframe id="datawrapper-chart-x9bFD" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important;" title="Annual Lightning Fatalities in Nepal" src="//datawrapper.dwcdn.net/x9bFD/1/" height="375" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" aria-label="Column Chart"></iframe>Lightning is particularly destructive in an agriculture-dependent country. Thunderbolts deposit a significant amount of nitrate in the soil every time they strike, and an excess of nitrate is detrimental to crops. The fatality rate from lightning strikes for livestock is higher than that for humans. Cattle are five times more likely than people to get killed in an electric storm.In industrialised countries, there are only 0.3 deaths per 1 million population caused by lightning. The fatality rate is much higher in the developing world, with up to 6 deaths per million. Lack of knowledge about lightning and insufficient safeguards in buildings are the main reasons.In Nepal the latter factors compound the topographical and meteorological reasons for fatal strikes. Added up, Nepal’s vulnerability is further increased by the rise in frequency and intensity of storms caused by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/climate-for-change/the-great-himalayan-thaw/">global warming</a>.“We have to get used to more potent lightning and its increased frequency. We need better protection, preparedness and public awareness,” said climate scientist Ngamindra Dahal, who says lightning risk should be prominently incorporated into school curricula.Public buildings such as schools, hospitals and government offices should be equipped with lightning rods. Telecommunication and transmission towers are at high risk because they are located on mountain tops, and need special safety measures integrated into their design. As more people use mobile phones, they must remember that it could be dangerous to use electronic devices during thunderstorms.Experts lament that despite the high fatality rate, lightning does not command the same priority as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/past-disasters-foretold/">earthquakes</a> and other disasters. They want the government to focus on policies that require the public to take lightning into consideration before building new structures.The best strategy moving ahead should be to invest in forecasting equipment and better <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/disastrous-management-in-nepal/">preparedness</a>. The good news is that the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology has set up nine lightning detection stations across Nepal (Dhangadi, Surkhet, Nepalganj, Pokhara, Bhairawa, Kathmandu, Simara, Tumlingtar and Biratnagar) to study thunderstorm activity and provide more accurate forecasts.“Data generated at these stations can indicate long-term lightning trends, their frequency and concentration, which in turn can help with better 'now-casting' of electric storms so people can seek safety,” said senior meteorologist Archana Shrestha at the Deaprtment of Hydrology and Meteorology.Nepal is hosting the annual South Asian Seasonal Forecasting Summit this month, at which international climate scientists will work to provide a collective monsoon forecast for South Asia so that governments in the region can plan for better agricultural productivity and be prepared for extreme weather events.Said Shri Ram Sharma: “With Nepal’s diverse climate and weather systems, we are the best lab in the world for scientists. Nowhere else will you find terrain rising from 70m to nearly 9,000m in the span of 150km. This is what makes Nepal more vulnerable to extreme weather, and why we need more research for better disaster preparedness.”<h2>Thunderbolt physics</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108111152/636a35889c7e80680e0482b5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="512" height="383"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Simply put, lightning flashes are a flow of electric charge, but they are created via a complex mechanism.Through ionisation and movements within a cumulonimbus cloud, two distinct clusters of positive and negative charge form at opposite ends of the cloud. Negatively charged particles accumulate at the bottom while positively charged particles gather at the top.This creates an electric potential difference, or voltage. When the voltage is strong enough, the negative particles move towards the positive side for balance. This can occur within a cloud or between two clouds.The particles, mostly the negatively-charged ones, can also travel down to the ground. This creates the lightning flashes. Extremely high energy is also released in the process, producing heat with temperatures that are five times hotter than the surface of the sun. Because of this heat, air surrounding the lightning flashes heats up and expands quickly, generating loud bursts of thunder.

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Lightning kills more people than floods in Nepal

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

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

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