<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

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible While premium beauty product outlets were closing during the Covid-19 pandemic, two young women gambled on setting up a new skin and haircare brand with natural ingredients mostly sourced from Nepal and suited for the Nepali complexion. Arushree Sharma Khatiwada and Megha Agarwal were batchmates in school before they left for studies abroad, returning to set up Avani Nepal after year-long rigorous research into ayurveda-based cosmetic products. Avani in Sanskrit means ‘earth’, and as the name suggests it is committed to bringing all natural, pure and authentic range of beauty solutions.&nbsp; “We found a gap in the Nepali market demand for cosmetics, which is why we decided on a brand sourced from all-natural Himalayan herbs that are not used or explored properly,” says co-founder Khatiwada.&nbsp; Nepal is a treasure trove for medicinal plants and those with therapeutic properties. After all, legend has it that Hanuman flew right across the subcontinent from Sri Lanka to the Himalaya to find a rare medicinal plant to save the life of Lord Ram, who was wounded in battle. When he could not find the specific plant, he tore off a whole mountain and brought it down. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/looking-good-by-doing-good">Looking good by doing good</a>, Sudiksha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314120356_32323fd084540236fe4edb3b98286c131d67c73310279c8038510da1e1ae1bc0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260314120356_32323fd084540236fe4edb3b98286c131d67c73310279c8038510da1e1ae1bc0" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="2012" loading="lazy" alt="Avani"> </figure>  Medicinal plants in Nepal range from yarsagumba to jatamasi and 500 other species traditionally used in the Ayurveda as well as now in the wellness industry. Avani is also trying to experiment hibiscus, Himalayan honey and other plants to eventually launch an export drive. Running a business in Nepal is no easy task, especially for small scale locally crafted products but in a few years, Avani has ammased loyal customer base and have many repeat customers. “While it was tricky initially, we were determined to launch our products with the best quality ingredients and in an affordable price range,” says Khatiwada. Following a worldwide trend and emulating the method used by Korean cosmetic brands, Avani has deployed celebrities and influencers to increase its outreach through tikTok , Facebook and YouTube. &nbsp;Actresses Barsha Shiwakoti and Shilpa Maskey and makeup artists like Lemi have reviewed their products favourably. Sutainability is a big part of the brand, and Avani uses glass bottles, cardboard boxes, paper bags for all its products. Plastic use is cut to a minimum, and where used is recycled.&nbsp; “Many people think that sustainable brands are expensive, we want to bust that myth,” Khatiwada told us. “We focus on being eco-friendly using ethically sourced materials that are paraben, silicon, and cruelty free.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/proud-to-wear-dolpo">Proud to wear DOLPO</a>, Vishad Raj Onta  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314120356_da0d7d4082a9aa51c96ecbcb8a2e7a5bc60e27de202fb339a522036aa3f50b49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260314120356_da0d7d4082a9aa51c96ecbcb8a2e7a5bc60e27de202fb339a522036aa3f50b49" data-rendition-name="original" width="1048" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Avani"> </figure>  Avani has expanded its business to get a toehold in Nepal’s tourism and wellness industry, and the products are carried by spas in leading hotels and resorts in Kathmandu and Pokhara such as the Terraces, Marriott, and Kavya resort, and is in talk with the Hideaway Resort in Pokhara.&nbsp; The skin and haircare brand that initially started with 10 products has since expanded its line to 60 with goods placed in more than 100 stores across Kathmandu. Plans are in the works to expand to India, China and in Japan partnering with Okada. Avani Nepal’s founders say that they support empowerment through employment and training opportunities for women at the company. Khatiwada herself has been engaged with organisations such as Nepal Women Chamber of Commerce, and Nepal Youth Entrepreneur Forum. Additional support from the government such as the provision of lower excise duties has helped but guidance for export and other business regulations is as crucial. Such an environment would also foster opportunities for the youth who are otherwise moving away for jobs or study abroad. “While everyone is trying to go abroad, opportunities can be created here in Nepal itself, with adequate support from the government,” says Khatiwada. “In the meantime, we are eyeing for long term benefits. We are trying to create a legacy for cosmetic brands in Nepal.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/java-in-the-himalaya-y1ilc21h">Java in the Himalaya</a>, Vishad Raj Onta

Redefining the criteria for beauty

- High Court employee Amrita KC fulfilled her duties as a polling officer in Nepalganj on election day, with her six-month-old daughter held in her arms.&nbsp; - The same morning in Kathmandu-1, RSP candidate Ranju Neupane appeared at the polling station to cast her vote with her 10-day-old baby. The next day, she became the first candidate declared a winner by the Election Commission. Her party won a supermajority and will now be tasked with reforms in governance, development, the economy, and service delivery. At least four of the winning RSP candidates are doctors, and the party must fulfil its campaign promise of improving healthcare access across Nepal. Among the lowest-ranking region for healthcare indicators in Nepal is Madhes Province. Across the districts of Madhes and Karnali, where maternal and neonatal health outcomes remain poorer than in the rest of the nation, local governments in collaboration with non-profits, have financed and facilitated the operation of birthing centres where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-haemorrhaging-nurses">nurses are lifelines</a> for pregnant women, new mothers, and newborn babies.&nbsp; At the Inarwari birthing centre in Rautahat district, nurse midwife Manisha Kushwaha gently applies ultrasound gel on the abdomen of 28-year-old Robina Khatun who is having a sonogram in the first trimester.&nbsp; Kushwaha glides the transducer over Khatun’s belly before pronouncing her baby healthy. She will later send the ultrasound machine for the municipality’s monthly mobile sonogram program in a neighbouring village.&nbsp; Ministry of Health and Population guidelines recommend that pregnant people make eight antenatal care (ANC) visits to health posts before their delivery date. Expecting mothers are also provided Rs800 for the eight visits and travel costs according to geographical region. In Baudhimai, the local government provides more incentives: 10 eggs for non-vegetarian and protein powder for vegetarian mothers-to-be per visit. The municipality also provides free ambulance service for pregnant women, and conducts a monthly mobile sonogram program across all communities.&nbsp; The initiatives of local governments, health officials, non-profits, and volunteers have meant that institutional deliveries here have increased drastically. In Rautahat, institutional deliveries have increased from 50% to 68% in four years, according to figures from the non-profit One Heart Worldwide that works to improve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-lagging-in-safe-motherhood">maternal and neonatal health</a> outcomes arcoss Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020352_a3f66142aa6a0333b78d82cd5520b1818633a580885232c10625572e014b1b15.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260314020352_a3f66142aa6a0333b78d82cd5520b1818633a580885232c10625572e014b1b15" data-rendition-name="original" width="1034" height="650" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  “Home deliveries have completely stopped in Inarwari, and women are increasingly accessing ante-natal and post-natal care, as well as family planning measures,” says Manisha Kushwaha. “Women and families here are now more aware of maternal and neonatal healthcare.” One of them is Noor Jahan Khatun, who had her first baby at home and gave birth to her second child at the local birthing centre despite wanting another home birth. When the due date for her third child came around, she walked to the health post herself.&nbsp; “I realised it is much better to give birth at the hospital,” Noor, who is pregnant with her fourth child, told us. “They have everything we need in case of complications.” The nursing staff at the birthing centre, as well as other centres in the municipality also periodically review their training in the birthing simulation room set up on the premises of the Inarwari birthing centre so that they retain their training and continue to hone their skills. Over in Sarlahi’s Sundarpur in Chakraghatta Rural Municipality, a state-of-the-art birthing centre now stands adjacent to the derelict old structure from which nurses previously had to provide services.&nbsp; The new and improved maternity ward was built last year with Rs2.4 million from the municipality and a Rs2 million from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/what-can-be-more-fulfilling-than-saving-lives">One Heart Worldwide</a> under a cost-sharing public-private partnership formula.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_4e7f71b535541d56d267baa6f2656faf008b7e98cc16da0042253f4c0db3eeb7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260312120328_4e7f71b535541d56d267baa6f2656faf008b7e98cc16da0042253f4c0db3eeb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> <figcaption>Sundarpur birthing centre in Sarlahi built through the collaboration of the local government and One Heart Worldwide.</figcaption> </figure>  Chief nurse Sunita Rai has been stationed here for the last six years, and looks at the old building. “I remember when we had to deliver babies while ankle-deep in flood water during monsoon,” recalls Rai. “This new facility and the equipment have improved service.”&nbsp; Since the start of the fiscal year, the six-nurse team at Sundarpur has delivered more than 140 babies. One day last month, a national holiday, the centre was quieter than usual, with just two women waiting for delivery.&nbsp; But fewer-than-usual patients does not mean there is no work to be done. In the afternoon, nurses make the rounds of the community to conduct post-natal care visits, and to keep track of how the new mothers and babies in the village are doing. This is important because neonatal mortality of babies within the first month of birth is still high. “For the people in this village we are both the doctor and the nurse,” Rai says matter-of-factly as she walks towards the village to see a new mother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020352_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260314020352_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027" data-rendition-name="original" width="790" height="542" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  In Sarlahi's Laxmipur Kodraha, Kanchan Rai makes her own rounds, calling out to several young children playing in the pale afternoon sun. Rai has been stationed in Laxmipur for 10 years and delivered most of those children playing outside herself. A beloved member of the community, Rai is greeted by several women and invited in for tea and snacks as she walks by. The Laxmipur birthing centre has seen major renovations to make it more spacious, better equipped, and hygienic. Mothers now have more privacy, especially from men who in the past would simply barge in wanting to know which woman from the village was about to give birth.&nbsp; “We deliver 400 babies on average every year,” Rai says. “There have been zero home births in this village for the last five years, and women are increasingly accessing maternal healthcare and family planning services.” Institutional deliveries in Sarlahi have gone up from 37% to 71% over the past five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020348_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260314020348_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac" data-rendition-name="original" width="359" height="329" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  Pregnant women who require C-sections, or those who experience complications during pregnancies, are referred to the nearest provincial hospitals in Gaur or Malangwa. “Community-based awareness programs about going for hospital visits have helped reduce home deliveries, and counselling sessions provided to new mothers at provincial hospitals have contributed to better maternal and neonatal health outcomes,” says Sachin Yadav, obstetrician-gynaecologist at Malangwa Provincial Hospital. SAFE MOTHERHOOD Newborns with birth asphyxia, tachycardia, meconium aspiration syndrome and other complications are admitted to the special newborn care unit at the Gaur Provincial Hospital. But Apsana Khatun, chief nurse at the hospital’s maternal and neonatal unit says: “We have not been able to provide neo-natal care as effectively because we do not have an NICU.”&nbsp; Provincial hospitals provide life-saving services, but remain underfunded and in need of life-saving equipment. At the Gaur Hospital, Rukmini Kumari Shah gently rocks her three-day-old son, who was admitted to the special newborn care unit due to birth asphyxia and dehydration.&nbsp; “I have not even been able to think of a name for him,” says the 25-year-old. “My other two children were born normal but I worry for this one.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_2736dbc7660fdb60d928df22b387d084a244607126567e5cbf37235177d1ac3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260312120328_2736dbc7660fdb60d928df22b387d084a244607126567e5cbf37235177d1ac3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> <figcaption>Gaur Provincial Hospital.</figcaption> </figure>  This is where the election pledge of the RSP will be tested. Will the new government cut through the bureaucracy, corruption and resource constraints to provide life-saving services to mothers and babies in places like Rautahat and Sarlahi? There has been no maternal mortality at the Malangwa Provincial Hospital for the last two years, but the hospital has had neonatal deaths. “We need more spacious waiting areas and training for maternal and neonatal healthcare workers,” says Sachin Yadav. “Without that we are unable to serve our patients and have to send them to Kathmandu or Birganj.” In Baudhimai village, patient numbers have increased by 140% in the last three years, but the federal government slashed the health budget by 60%. The government across three levels is supposed to provide 98 types of essential medicine free of cost at primary healthcare centres, but the federal and provincial governments often fail to make their share of the drugs available.&nbsp; “Federal and especially provincial governments have been irresponsible when it comes to investing in local healthcare,” says Baudhimai mayor Pradeep Kumar Yadav. Health workers and institutions continue to work without being paid or funded when the budget remains frozen for months at a time. “It does not matter to a patient when the fiscal year begins,” says Sachin Yadav at the Malangwa Provincial Hospital. “Maternal deaths do not wait for the budget to be released.” And despite budget constraints, political posturing still continues. At local levels, officials build multiple birthing centres in each ward when one would suffice, and these buildings remain empty.&nbsp; Politics also plays a significant role in whether or not local officials are willing to agree when health officials try to refer pregnancy-related complications to better-equipped facilities. And while services have improved due to the efforts of dedicated healthcare officials, they are transferred from one place to another at the whim of governments that come and go, which means staff turnover in these institutions is very high, affecting consistent service delivery. &nbsp; Yadav has been at Malangwa for three years— during which yearly institutional deliveries have gone from 2,000 to 3,200 and C-section births have gone from 150 to 700. He had just begun to hit his stride at the hospital when he received transfer letters to another hospital.&nbsp; So far, he has managed to hold on to his position in Malangwa, but he does not know how long he will be able to delay the transfer. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Tackling patriarchy</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_7df47f32c19a10cd59efbd7e2639a1b719bd4f6ca50bfa24189c8ecc65f21d09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260312120328_7df47f32c19a10cd59efbd7e2639a1b719bd4f6ca50bfa24189c8ecc65f21d09" data-rendition-name="original" width="1850" height="3000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> </figure>  Nepal has made dramatic progress in reducing the maternal mortality rate (MMR) from 539 per 100,000 births to 142 over the past 30 years. But that is the national average. MMR is still high in parts of Nepal where access to healthcare and adoption of health services are not as extensive. One reason is that despite birthing centres and awareness of pre- and post-natal healthcare, s<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-slaughter-of-our-daughters">ocio-cultural norms in a patriarchal society</a> also mean that female literacy remains low, and the rate of underage marriage is high.&nbsp; Rautahat has the lowest literacy rate in Nepal, and the lowest female literacy rate. This has a direct correlation with its its fertility and maternal mortality rates. Gaur Hospital continues to see maternal and intrauterine fetal death (IUFD) deaths due to a lack of ANC visits by patients. In the absence of education and information, socio-cultural misconceptions still persist. Women refuse to take essential pre-natal medication like folic acid because they think it will affect their babies’ complexion, and do not eat enough fruits because they believe it will cause fetal pneumonia.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020348_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260314020348_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856" data-rendition-name="original" width="377" height="367" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  Women are also expected to get through their pregnancies without going for health check ups in keeping with the tradition of their mothers and mothers-in-law enduring pregnancy and childbirth at home without access to healthcare. Maternal and neonatal health outcomes are also affected by child marriage, as well as the patriarchy-enforced preference of a male child in the family.&nbsp; At Gaur Provincial Hospital, 25-year-old Asha Kumari stands with her hands braced against the hospital bed as she is gripped by a contraction. Her eldest child is already 12, and she is at the hospital to have her fifth baby.&nbsp; “She had already had two children by the time she was 18,” explains her mother, who is here with Asha’s mother-in-law. &nbsp; Officials worry that reporting instances of child marriage might mean that women no longer trust health workers and hospitals, and stop accessing healthcare altogether. They insist that investment in maternal health needs to be accompanied by socio-cultural interventions. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FtVA--CRk3nM%3Fsi%3DJtFs6cwqOhJua9NI&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>

Motherhood in the Madhes

Nepal’s new political wave has been described in many ways: a generational shift, a technocratic shift, a shift in ideas, and a shift in political behaviour. Young leaders now sit in Parliament, many with international education and policy experience.
But amid this excitement, a quieter truth risks getting lost: this political transformation is also the ascent of people who, until recently, were the grassroots themselves.
For the first time, many of the people now sitting in government are not distant elites. They are people I have marched with, argued with, worked with, and been inspired by for more than a decade.
They are people who once stood ankle‑deep in floodwaters, not in front of press conferences. As optimism rises around the new government, we must not forget that the climate crisis has not slowed down. 
The monsoon is at our doorstep again. And if the disasters from previous years taught us anything, it is that climate impacts do not wait for political transitions. And our mountains and rivers do not care who sits in Singha Darbar.
What is different this time is who holds power.
During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">September 2024 floods in Kathmandu</a>, the first responders were not the state or development machinery. It was ordinary young people. A loosely formed WhatsApp network coordinated everything from dispatching mountain bikers to landslide‑stranded areas, to pooling relief supplies, to delivering materials to army bases for airlifting. These were citizens acting out of necessity, not mandate.
Many from that very network are now part of the government. As I have argued before in Nepali Times, top‑down climate responses in Nepal have always been too little, too late, and too disconnected from lived experience. The only proven path is bottom‑up, community-led adaptation where those who face the risks daily shape the solutions. 
International research backs this: community-based adaptation has been central to success stories from Bangladesh’s cyclone shelters to Vietnam’s mangrove restoration to the Philippines’ barangay disaster committees. The world has repeatedly learned that resilience grows from the ground up, not the top down.
RARE MOMENT
Nepal now has a rare political moment where people with lived experience of crisis sit in positions of authority. The real test is whether this lived experience becomes policy and immediate action.
The expectation should not be that these new leaders deliver because of their degrees. It should be because they remember where they come from and use their privilege to strengthen and fund local institutions, networks and people who kept this country functioning long before governments did.
The monsoon that starts in June will test the government’s commitment to governing from the bottom up. Will these new leaders govern the way they once volunteered — listening first, acting fast, improvising where needed, and involving those closest to the danger? Or will the weight of the state push them back toward the familiar comfort of top‑down plans and consultant reports?
The challenges are complex. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu" target="_blank">Climate change is driving displacement</a>, deepening poverty, and exacerbating gendered vulnerabilities. Climate adaptation, therefore, needs cross-sectoral solutions that understand how these issues intersect.
Long-term transformation is essential. Our major cities like Kathmandu desperately need a future where rivers are protected instead of mined, where an urban forest cools our heat‑trapping city, and where mobility focuses on sustainability, not just shiny EVs. Our mountain villages and terai lowlands deserve a community resilient to climate impacts, with livelihoods protected.
These require years of work. But immediate, life-saving measures cannot wait.
Will the government finally rein in the sand mining and quarrying upstream of the Rosi and Nakkhu Khola? Will someone sit down with the communities on the riverbanks and listen to the early warning signs they’ve learned through pain? Will climate adaptation be prioritised amidst political noise and competing crises?
Or will we find ourselves, yet again, mourning damage that could have been prevented? I have been inspired by many of the individuals now in government — they questioned old hierarchies, challenged worn‑out norms, and believed that things could be done differently. 
But while the faces in Parliament have changed, the bureaucracy has not. Development organisations and civil society groups have not. And those systems are slow: too slow for the speed at which our climate is changing.
So something has to give. And that shift must begin with remembering where this political movement came from: the grassroots. Those now in power must not forget the urgency they once carried in their bones. They cannot forget the feeling of wading into murky floodwater, holding a bag of rice over their heads. 
And it is our responsibility — mine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/turning-green-policies-into-greenbacks" target="_blank">as a writer</a>, yours as a reader, and ours as citizens — to remind them. The real spark for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/measuring-climate-impact-on-culture-and-heritage" target="_blank">climate action</a> comes from personal stories of loss, fear, survival, and solidarity. And suddenly, those stories are no longer outside the halls of government. They are inside.
The question is no longer whether our leaders understand the stakes. They do. They lived it. The real question, as the skies grow heavier again, is this: What will we do with this moment?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu">Rastra Raj Bhandari</a> is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change.

Soon, the monsoon

This week, the RSP held a two-day closed orientation camp for its newly elected members of Parliament. The party has also decided to assign parliamentary and Cabinet roles to leaders only after the new MPs are sworn in on 28 March.&nbsp;
This means the new prime minister and his cabinet of 15 ministers are likely to be installed closer to the Nepali New Year, and the expectation is that it will also usher in a new era of governance and politics in Nepal.&nbsp;
Between now and then, there is much speculation regarding who will become new ministers and from which camp—Balendra Shah's or Rabi Lamichanne’s. Meanwhile, the final argument in the petition against the Rabi Lamichanne case revision is set for Thursday, with a verdict expected on the same day.
“In the past, parties did anything to form coalitions and to keep them from splitting ministries and appointing anyone they wanted to, even going against the spirit of the Constitution, but the RSP doesn’t need to partake in any such activities,” says political analyst Indra Adhikari.
Adhikari notes that governance failures in the past was often the result of coalition governments formed through political bargaining that meant the primary party often had to compromise on their agenda.&nbsp;
“But nothing is stopping the party from fulfilling its election manifesto,” she says. “And if they aren’t able to deliver, we know Nepalis are prone to protests, so another revolt is also a possibility.”
Journalist and author Mohan Mainali agrees that the everyday Parliamentary proceedings should go smoothly for new government because of their majority.&nbsp;
But there are questions as to what a near two-thirds majority allows the RSP to achieve in Parliament. Its 182 seats in the Lower House allows the party to enact and amend laws without hurdles and bypass Upper House’s request for Bill revisions. But the RSP has no presence in the National Assembly, and that means that its majority in the Lower House is not enough to amend the Constitution.&nbsp;
“The Constitution poses no obstacles for the RSP to work on improving governance, development and delivery,” says Mainali. &nbsp;“If they do show some performance, it will be easier for them to go into the next election and ask for a two-thirds majority to also amend the constitution,” he adds.
The last coalition government of the UML and Nepali Congress before the GenZ protests had been built upon a primary agreement to make amendments to the Constitution. So, depending on the nature of amendments, the RSP might find some support within the National Assembly at a time when some of the older parties, such as the Nepali Congress, have committed to supporting the new government as well as internal party reforms.
“What we need is a structural overhaul, from our laws and foreign policy to economy and security apparatus, and for this the RSP needs to champion collaboration and consultation for the sake of nation building,” says Indra Adhikari. “So it all comes down to the understanding and judgment of the RSP’s leadership. If they try to go at it alone, it will lead nowhere.”
To be sure, the provincial government could also clean up their act before the next local and provincial elections, which would help the older parties to regain some of their lost footing and rebuild trust.
As it stands, RSP lawmakers will also have to learn to work with each other. Mainali notes that the RSP not being bound by one clear ideology might lead to future problems, including the rumoured animosity between party president Rabi Lamichhane and prime minister-in-waiting Balendra Shah.
“Parties that came before the RSP had an ideology, whether they followed them or not, but the RSP is made of different kinds of people,” says Mainali. “If they are not motivated by a common goal of achieving something tangible in the next five years, it might be difficult for them to stay together.”
Adds Adhikari: “Balendra and Rabi don’t seem to be compatible. Rabi has already failed when it comes to the matters of governance, and Balendra won’t carry that burden. Additionally, there is a struggle between the two in terms of party hierarchy.”
Speaking at the closing of the two-day orientation, from which Balendra Shah was noticably absent, Rabi Lamichanne said that the RSP’s image as intolerant needs to be changed, and that the country is not heading towards totalitarianism but is in the hands of good, new people.
Regardless of the assurance, the general public has seen Balendra Shah and Lamichanne’s disposition in the last several years, and analysts are worried that their personalities and ambition might lead to an environment of increased intolerance.&nbsp;
As it stands in absence of a strong opposition, the responsibility falls on the media and the civil society to be the watchdog and play an effective check and balance role.&nbsp;
“Seeing how Balendra has ignored the media so far and Rabi has made inflammatory remarks in the past, they are probably more intolerant than the likes of Trump and Modi,” says Mainali. He notes that the party does not just have technical human resource and cyber army but a large number of dedicated supporters.&nbsp;
The media must thus continue to build trust by highlighting good work, educating the public on the importance of impartial journalism in democracy and debate any Bill purposed in Parliament, Mainali adds.&nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “The media should praise the government when they do well, motivate them, but it should also point out wrongdoings without fear, and provide recommendations to do better. Otherwise, absolute power corrupts absolutely, which we have seen happen happen in America with Trump and in India with Modi, where extremism has taken over and democracy has been curtailed.”

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Motherhood in the Madhes

Soon, the monsoon

Balancing act