<figure></figure> <img width="960" height="540" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8da89c7e80680e06b35cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Undocumented workers in Kuwait from Nepal line up for travel documents at the Nepal Embassy in Kuwait. </figcaption> More than 2,500 undocumented Nepali workers in Kuwait have taken advantage of the government’s amnesty to apply for travel documents so they can eventually fly back to Kathmandu. Kuwait announced the move last month aimed mainly at Bangladeshi and other South Asian workers without proper papers. Under the scheme, overstay fees are waived, workers are offered free flights home, and transitory housing and food till their travel dates. In addition, workers are allowed to return to Kuwait for employment legally. The month-long scheme has been phased by nationality, and the slot for Nepalis to apply is between April 26-30. There are an estimated 7,000 undocumented Nepali workers in Kuwait who could benefit. Some 2,500 Nepali workers have applied for travel documents at the Nepal Embassy in Kuwait while those with valid passports apply directly with the Kuwaiti authorities and do not need to go through the embassy. <img width="960" height="540" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8daa9c7e80680e06b35djpeg.jpg" alt=""> One Nepali woman arrived in Kuwait two years ago even though her agent had promised to take her to Israel. She had to spend a month in Delhi and travel via India because of the Nepal government’s ban on female Nepali workers travelling to the Gulf. The Kuwaiti family where she worked was abusive, and she ran away to her placement office. She finally found other Nepali women in similar situations, and worked at odd jobs without papers. But with the COVID-19 crisis, it has not been easy. She has decided at take up the amnesty offer, and was at the Nepal Embassy this week to make a new travel document. She has been put up in a temporary shelter in a converted school, and shares a classroom with 14 other Nepali women. “The accommodation is good. The food could be better, but I cannot complain. We are waiting for tests. We are packed and ready with our belongings. I just want to go home,” she said over the phone. For workers who have racked up overstay fines, and do not have jobs because of the pandemic, the amnesty offer provides relief. Most are domestic workers including female migrants. <img width="960" height="640" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dad9c7e80680e06b35ejpeg.jpg" alt=""> While the Kuwaiti amnesty move has been welcomed, some human rights activists say Kuwait is using the pandemic as an excuse to get rid of undocumented workers. They say sooner or later, other Gulf countries will also start pressuring Nepal to take back its workers. In fact, the UAE has asked some South Asian countries to take back workers who want to return. This week there were large crowds at the Nepal Embassy in Kuwait City as undocumented workers lined up in scorching heat to apply for travel documents. “We try to manage the crowd and ask them to maintain distance, but there were just too many workers,” said the NRNA volunteer. “They are just so desperate, we can just pray that there will not be any transmission.” There have so far been 3,440 confirmed coronavirus cases in Kuwait, of which 51 are Nepali. Nepalis in Kuwait are helping each other in times of need. One Nepali female worker said a dai drove her 35km to the embassy and dropped her back home, and that was just one of the many trips he made to help fellow-Nepalis. The embassy has also sprung into action after initial hiccups over getting the necessary information to Nepali workers. But the onus is now on the Nepal government to permit the Kuwaiti charter flights to Kathmandu, and to arrange for proper quarantine space and transport back to the districts for the several thousand Nepalis who may soon be returning from Kuwait and other Gulf countries. The flights for the returnees will also need special permission because Nepal’s lockdown and a ban on all international and domestic flights has been extended till 15 May.

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Nepalis in Kuwait apply to return home

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937609c7e80680e03fe30jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: OM ASTHA RAI</figcaption></figure>What is it about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-lottery-of-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">labour migration</a> that keeps drawing hundreds of thousands of people every year away from their homes and families despite the evident risks?<a href="http://panosa.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Panos South Asia</a>’s new collection of reportage from the region, Uncertain Journeys: Labour Migration from South Asia seeks to answer this question through the eyes of 15 senior journalists who researched their stories in destination countries. Based on their interviews, they analyse various aspects of labour migration.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/changing-the-headlines-on-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Changing the headlines on migration</a>, Upasana Khadka<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/labour-pain/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Labour pain</a>, Om Astha RaiThe first chapter on Nepal is by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/caught-in-the-middle/migration-agency-exploitation,4003" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Upasana Khadka</a>, who has reported widely on the issue of Nepali migrants in the Gulf and Malaysia <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/changing-the-headlines-on-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">for this newspaper</a>. Khadka likens labour migration to a lottery, a culturally fatalistic view borne out of desperation to escape poverty back home. She narrates the stories of four individuals: Sharmila, Ramesh, Shama and Ram who are unlucky and are either caught, cheated, trafficked, or deported. Yet, even though they know the risks,  thousands of others take same route to seek their fortunes. <img width="200" height="174" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937639c7e80680e03fe31jpeg.jpg" alt="">‘Individuals are often aware of the common risks of migration … however, many continue to make risky decisions, not always because of lack of information, but despite it … it is possibility of being lucky that encourages so many to take risks,” she writes.Khadka also talks about the lack of bilateral agreements that have encouraged  avenues for illegal migration. Case in point is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/homes-away-from-home/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">blanket ban on female domestic workers leaving Nepal</a>, despite which migrants continue to risk unauthorised channels to make it to their destination, setting in motion the chain of trafficking.Janak Raj Sapkota, author of the much-acclaimed book Kahar: Baideshi Rojgarile Bitholindo Samaj’ delves into human trafficking in Nepal under the guise of legal foreign employment, and the lack of laws that makes the connection between the two that has helped traffickers work behind the scenes.He argues that the political protection enjoyed by the remittance industry has aided this form of modern-day slavery to flourish, and until the ambiguities in legal structures are cleared and stronger policies are in place, Nepalis abroad will continue to be duped, or worse, abused and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/paying-an-arm-and-a-leg/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">maimed</a>. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/paying-an-arm-and-a-leg/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Paying an arm and a leg</a>, Om Astha Rai<a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Killed in the line of Duty</a>, Om Astha Rai and Sonia AwaleUncertain Journeys: Labour Migration from South AsiaEdited by A.S. PanneerselvanSpeaking Tiger Publishing, New Delhi Price: INR 499<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937649c7e80680e03fe32jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="278">Filmmaker Kesang Tseten whose acclaimed 2008 documentary <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1519643/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In Search of the Riyal</a> about four young Nepalis on journeys to the Gulf first bought the stark realities behind the remittances, also has a chapter about filming in Qatar and how he had to sneak behind aircraft crew to capture conversations with migrants inside the planes.Eleven years later he revisits characters from the first film for a sequel. He found that Danvir Jogi is still in Qatar and making good money, Navin Rai returned to a broken marriage and left again for Dubai, Prem Bareilly is in Dharan working as a silversmith amidst stigma of being a Dalit and Bhojraj Darzi is now a successful pig farmer in Nepal. But none of these are representative tales, Tsenten stresses, pointing out that it is vital to understand and sympathise with Nepalis opting to go abroad.The chapters on other South Asian show that there are a lot of similarities between the tragic tales of Nepali workers and those from Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and India. The case of Zulfiqar Ali of Pakistan who was charged with drug trafficking and consequently spent 13 years in death row in Indonesia reminds one of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank" rel="noopener">conviction and incarceration of Govinda Mainali</a>, who was falsely accused of the murder and robbery of a Japanese woman in Tokyo in 1997.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank" rel="noopener">From Chitwan to Chiyoda</a>, Kunda DixitIn a chapter appropriately titled ‘A Return to Nothingness’, narration of an everyday scene at Indian airports, of the body bags being unloaded is not unlike <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali migrants returning home in coffins at Kathmandu airport</a>. The migration of Sri Lankan farmers to the Gulf because of droughts caused by climate change is similar to that of <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/recharging-the-mountains-" target="_blank" rel="noopener">outmigration of people from the mid-hills of Nepal</a>. Bangladeshis overcharged and cheated of jobs in Singapore echo the plight of most <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali migrants in Malaysia</a>. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kleptocrats of Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur</a>, Ramu Sapkota and Alyaa Alhadjri<a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/home-they-bring-the-workers-dead" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Home they bring workers dead</a>, Upasana Khadka Amidst the poignant stories of loss, there are tiny rays of hope. Following the three decades of war in Sri Lanka, women were forced to leave as domestic workers and toil hard in the Gulf, but discovered themselves in the process as individuals with rights and freedom.  What ties all of these stories together are the shared stories of aspiration and shattered dreams. Meanwhile all South Asian nations rely on the same destinations resulting in completion with each other, allowing employers to get away with little pay and exploitation in turn.Each chapter is a raw portrayal of a migrant life, and the book gives significant understanding of the poverty and social injustice in South Asia.The book is being launched at the Nepal Literature Festival in Pokhara during the weekend. <h2>Riyal revisited </h2> <figure><img width="1400" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937659c7e80680e03fe33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“The tidal wave of migration that began 20 years ago continues…” That is how Kesang Tseten begins his documentary sequel to the 2008 film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1519643/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In Search of the Riyal</a>. He tries to locate migrant workers he had filmed a decade ago, to find out what has become of them.Were their dreams realised? Did the Nepali workers in Qatar and UAE find what they were looking for? Were the intervening years kind to them? In The Riyalists, acclaimed film-maker Tseten (pictured, above) spends the first five minutes setting the stage for the journey ahead. We get to revisit young Nepalis on scaffolds whom we first met in the previous award-winning documentary.Ten years ago Dhanvir Jogi, a lanky lad from Terathum left behind his three-month-old son and started training at an institute in Kathmandu. He was diligent and hopeful, but worried about falling sick in the hot desert. In In Search of the Riyal Prem Bareily who often faced the stigma of being a Dalit back home in Dharan, did not shy away from his fears: “They might be talking about killing me but I wouldn’t know… I won’t understand their language.” Bhoj Darzi was fully aware of the risk he was putting himself into. He had heard of Nepalis returning home in coffins. Yet he took a loan in the hope of trading his job as a tailor in Jhapa for a more financially secure position in the Gulf. Shy and awkard, Nabin Rai, has a sad story with a happy ending. Tseten narrates: “It was the image of Nabin in his crisp white shirt and his newly married wife sporting a blue umbrella that remained etched in my mind from the earlier film.” But after two years in Qatar, Nabin came back to find that his wife took off with another man and abandoned his twin daughters. Nabin remarried and left for Dubai. Today, he is a foreman at an offshore gas rig and earns a good salary. He gets to visit home every three months where he is building a new home for his family.Dhanvir, who is with the same construction company in Qatar, has managed to acquire some land, get his sisters married, send his son to school, but missed out on his upbringing. “I was thin and young when I came,” he says on camera, “I’ll go back old.”Prem left Doha because he was not paid on time and mistreated by employers, and now works as a silversmith but faces stiff competition. He proudly shows the best worker certificate he received in Qatar and often regrets his decision to return. “I make good enough living here but there is no saving for future,” he rues.In Bhoj, there is no trace of a young man who once explained with wonder how the food tray inside planes worked. He was deported from Dubai for going on strike, framed by fellow workers. He left for Qatar next but returned shortly afterwards when his wife fell sick. His mother and wife run a local garment factory and he recently overtook his dead brother’s profitable piggery. He believes Nepalis can make it at home if they work hard. The four men are just a few of the hundreds of thousands of Nepalis toiling abroad. Their lives are mostly fascinating, not tragic. But what draws audience to these individuals is Tseten’s simple but compelling storytelling, his poignant narration, flawless direction interwoven with clips from ten years ago. Viewers will be struck by his compassion for less fortunate compatriots.There are moments of laughter, of camaraderie, of loss and farewells. Through it all, Tsenten is with us, uncovering men’s lives, sharing their grief and intact hopes, bringing us an intimate portrayal of Nepali migrants away and at home. The day this documentary will be launched, another 1,500 young Nepali men and women will fly off, forsaking their fields and families for the hopes of a better future. This film will help us understand why they leave despite real risks, and the need to create opportunities at home. The Riyalists Directed by Kesang Tseten Sunyata Film Productions, 2018 61 minutesSonia Awale

Sonia Awale

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Shared stories, shattered dreams of South Asian migrant workers

‘One early morning, we heard the ambassador’s wife cry out, “Ram, Ram, Ram!” A disaster has befallen Nepal!” She had heard on the radio that a fire had consumed Singha Durbar." This is not about the arson attack on 9 September 2025, but the one on 8 July, 1973. It started in the South Wing of the then single-largest building in all of Nepal. It took two days to bring the blaze under control, requiring the use of explosives to demolish one wing to protect the imposing western facade. As Bhekh Bahadur Thapa recalls in the English translation of his memoir A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy, he was then on leave from the Nepal government serving with the IDRC in Ottawa.&nbsp; He had already served as Nepal’s Finance Secretary at age 25, went on to be Finance Minister and Governor of Nepal Rastra Bank. He was already younger than some of the GenZ ministers in Nepal’s present RSP government. Thapa, now 89, was at the launch of the book in February which was attended by former diplomats and bureaucrats. After speeches by panelists, there was a question from the audience about how Thapa had managed to be the diplomat he was, managing Nepal’s international relations on the world stage.&nbsp; Writer and journalist Akhilesh Upadhyay, who was moderating the panel, responded by going into the section of the book where we see Thapa as an ambassador to the US, playing tennis with White House officials, cultivating a network of contacts to project the identity and welfare of Nepal, and making it possible for a state visit by King Birendra to Ronald Reagan’s America. The book is full of anecdotes that suggest Thapa was a clever and strategic diplomat, always calm and unruffled, easily making friends in high places with his maturity and engaging sense of humour. Thapa’s memoir is heavy on details about Nepal’s administrative history during the years he was active in public service, serving as minister and ambassador under three kings: Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra, and alongside five prime ministers.&nbsp; Aside from an insider look on how certain treaties, development deals and research projects in Nepal came into fruition, Thapa goes into great detail about his personal and professional relationships with the kings, ministers, ambassadors, foreign leaders and politicians.&nbsp; As a reader, one is struck by the level of detail around the events that unfolded in Nepal over the years during Thapa’s tenure. Was Thapa recording a journal over the years of the events and the conversations that transpired, or were they committed to his phenomenal memory? Either way, the reader gets a glimpse of Nepal’s recent history from the early days of the Panchayat, through the People’s Movement and the democracy period, the Maoist insurgency, Royal Palace massacre of 2001, and Gyanendra’s coup of 2005.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1584" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How to win friends and influence nations NT"> </figure>  Not enough is said about the political parties of the time whose presence led to the way Nepal’s multiparty democracy came to be shaped. The book keeps its focus on the administration and the key figures around it, mostly those in the Panchayat era. Towards the second half of the book, we do start to hear about political parties, but not in great depth. Another figure whose presence in the book is conspicuously less prominent is that of his wife, Rita Thapa — the person who seems to have rescued him every time financial quandary or family care became a challenge. Yet, we do not see her as a full person. Perhaps because of the personal tragedies in his life, the children are also barely mentioned.&nbsp; The book is therefore less personal and more technical. Throughout, we learn about Thapa’s thinking as he navigated the world of diplomacy to win him the trust of those who mattered. There are tips here for a new generation of Nepali officials and diplomats about how much commitment and focus is needed to be good at one’s job and serve the national interest. This book adds to tomes that have been written on Nepal’s fragile relationship with India. ‘India has always wished for Nepal to remain dependent on it,’ writes Thapa, who served as Nepal’s ambassador to India and later in the Eminent Persons Group &nbsp;on Indo-Nepal relations that has been allowed to languish. The book has several insights into the Indo-Nepal trysts with diplomacy and agency.&nbsp; China’s role is also recorded, viewed through conversations during a visit to Beijing, but all that was before Nepal’s neighbour to the north emerged as a world economic and military power. The book also has such sudden instances of quirkiness and humour. For instance, we see a young Thapa in America explaining to a government official why he would like to return to Nepal instead of settling down in the US. “Because, Nepal is beautiful,” he said. The text is immaculate and does not read much like a translation, credit for which clearly goes to the team that put the edition together: translator Prawin Adhikari, &nbsp;Anagha Neelakanthan and Bhekh Thapa’s daughter, Manjushree. As Nepal enters a new era of governance and diplomacy, A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy should be essential reading for students of political science, economics and foreign affairs who can gain a fresh perspective on the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; There are dozens of forgotten state secrets recorded in the book, but the reader must also remember this is a story told from one person’s perspective and there may be others.&nbsp; So, what really made Thapa the diplomat he was? I met him in 2004 at the Kantipur TV studio when he was serving as king Gyanendra’s foreign minister. He was there for a studio interview, and I was just done with my English newscast.&nbsp; He surprised me at the door: “Pratibha! I’ve been reading your articles in The Kathmandu Post. You must keep writing.” I thanked him, glad to have been noticed for my work by a stranger. That was perhaps one of the things that set Thapa apart — he excelled at staying close to those in power, while also noticing those who were not.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Book details"> </figure>

How to win friends and influence nations

This is the 91st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

The nation’s daughter

This is the 90th 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. The Musahar community lives in the Nepal Tarai and India, they have been historically excluded and are at the bottom of the economic and caste ladder. Many families still work as sharecroppers for landlords, but overseas migration is changing their lives as this conversation between Abhinash Sada and Lalit Majhi shows. Both were home for a vacation from work in Malaysia which coincided with the election. They are hopeful that the new RSP government will improve things.&nbsp; Abhinash: I was born into such poverty that we worried about the next meal. My family used to work near the river, mining sand and gravel. They were paid in rice. Sometimes we children went to the field to help with work, not for money but for the roti we got for lunch. I was eight when I was sent to school, and I still remember the first day. Lalit: We were classmates. Abhinash already knew how to recite the Nepali alphabet, but did not know how to read the letters. Meanwhile, I knew how to write s v u but did not know what those letters stood for. I just liked using a stick to scribble the alphabets in the sand while tending to the water buffalos. We finally learnt the alphabets properly in school. We used to skip school a lot but became interested after they offered sports like volleyball, and they also let us use a computer once every week. We started focusing on our studies, and Abinash used to stay at my my house so we could start studying together at 4AM because the teacher said our minds were freshest in the morning.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1787" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> </figure>  Abhinash: I used to sleep over at Lalit’s house so we could get up and study together early in the morning before school. We enjoyed studying so much we even asked the teacher for more homework. Sometimes, we used to skip class to do some work to earn some money so we could afford stationery or uniforms. Lalit ranked better than me in class.&nbsp; Lalit: My best memories of childhood was us swimming in the river after the rains when water levels were high. My mother thought we would get sick, but we did not listen. When we finally came home in the evenings, she would be fuming. My father worked in Punjab as a contractor and took fellow villagers there to work.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040432_0f8b3936c1edef4ff2e3682a66131278bf822022b1e8ae3aca1418e0fa232136.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260411040432_0f8b3936c1edef4ff2e3682a66131278bf822022b1e8ae3aca1418e0fa232136" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash with his family.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: My father went to Saudi Arabia to support the family. When he came home for a break, he enrolled me in a private school so my English would improve and private schools were also stricter. I was in Grade 5 in the government school, but the private school put me in kindergarten. It felt strange because everyone else was much younger. After three years, I rejoined Grade 6 in the government school but Lalit had already moved on to Grade 8. We no longer studied together. Lalit: I did not pass my SLC. Instead of retaking the exam, I went to Chennai and got a dishwashing job although I was promised waiter. I came back after a month and started getting my paperwork done for Qatar. I borrowed Rs100,000 from a villager at 36% interest. Even so, in three years there I helped my family repay loans and bail out my eldest brother who had been cheated in Malaysia. All my savings in Qatar and what my middle brother earned in Malaysia went to rescue our oldest brother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_716000dceca4fbf31b9364fa712e30cbdca83783d59c8e10b47f6ae3e39b8825.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260411040436_716000dceca4fbf31b9364fa712e30cbdca83783d59c8e10b47f6ae3e39b8825" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Lalit with his mother.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: We Musahars can work hard. Our forebears worked from childhood tilling the fields of land owners whose children went to school. Saying no was not an option. Our fathers’ generation prioritised education because they did not want us to be trapped in servitude. I studied until Grade 12 but failed my exam. I worked in a sweet factory in Bangalore to support my parents. I returned after a year, and did odd jobs in a brick factory and sometimes as a day labourer with my father. I did not go abroad because I did not have money and people were not willing to lend to us. It was only when I got a free recruitment job in Malaysia that I decided to migrate.&nbsp; Lalit: I came back from Qatar, got married and remigrated to Malaysia with Abinash. It has been 2.5 years and we work in the same factory and share a dorm room just as we did as kids. With the money we earned, we have bought land back in our village. We are returning to Malaysia after our vacation here. My wife put mehendi in my palms, and told me that I should remember her whenever I see it. I also gave her a silver chain I was wearing as memento. My wife said the mehendi will last about a month and will fade away, that is the most difficult part of being overseas — but after a few weeks the working life takes over and we get occupied with duty.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1787" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash's family seeing him off in 2023.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_5a4faef596e76365fce3181fe8f3a215306755287cbe353c433e34758df0aaec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260411040436_5a4faef596e76365fce3181fe8f3a215306755287cbe353c433e34758df0aaec" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash and Lalit getting welcomed by family after their return.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: The election coincided with my vacation and I voted for the RSP in both ballots. They have already started building a road in our area, so there is hope. People in other parties were angry, but I told them my one vote would not have made a difference, they would have still lost. You can feel new energy in the village now, maybe things will change. We Musahars have always been discriminated against, even though our situation has improved. At least we do not have to worry about food anymore. It is not just my father who is the breadwinner. Now, I am also earning to support the family.&nbsp; Lalit: The whole point about migrating is to take care of my parents and make sure they are happy. They are my role models, and struggled all their lives for us. They invested in our studies so we would not have to live through what they did. They are happy that we are earning and supporting them. We bought land with the money saved in Malaysia. Now, as we go back, the next goal is to build a house. Then we will think about our future. When Abhinash and I were children, we thought we would be ठुलो मान्छे one day. I looked up to my teacher and wanted to be like him. But now that I am grown up, I do not have anyone I look up to. I just make my goals and achieve them.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_83af55ced9108a0604495df2f808e497f6ecb73d1772c30af72cef94a4f21915.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260411040436_83af55ced9108a0604495df2f808e497f6ecb73d1772c30af72cef94a4f21915" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> </figure>  Abhinash: We have our whole lives ahead of us, and it is our turn to support our parents. What is the point of anything if our family is not happy? I do not want my parents to have to depend on others for money. We Musahars have been historically mistreated. We are known to be too trusting, and we do as we are told. We grew up believing that we were underdogs because of our caste. People still treat us as untouchable, although less than before. We were invited to parties but made to sit separately; at friends’ houses, we were asked to remain outside. We accepted all this because that is way it always was. Even when it made us feel bad. My younger brother stopped going to parties altogether because he did not like that discriminatory treatment. The new generation is not like that thankfully.&nbsp; Lalit: I once ran away from a feast because the Musahar invitees had to eat last. High caste or low caste, we all have the same red blood. The young ones thankfully are not like that. We were invited to a wedding recently during this vacation from Malaysia, and all of us young boys sat and ate together. But if the elders had been around they would have asked Abhinash and me to sit separately from the others.&nbsp;

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