The Rosi Valley is a ravaged landscape of boulders, tree trunks, overturned tipper trucks, tilted concrete houses and the surrounding mountains with claw marks. A week later, survivors are still in shock. Many who witnessed the 2015 earthquake say this disaster was worse, and it was made even more deadly because of unregulated quarries and stone mines in the Rosi watershed upstream. They blame collusion between contractors and municipality officials. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers">The revenge of the rivers</a>, Shamshad Admad  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_c55becabe58855ee897cacf411e0889923bd699b07d563444f16c009362ed50e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241007131020_c55becabe58855ee897cacf411e0889923bd699b07d563444f16c009362ed50e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> <figcaption>Panauti and quarries in the Rosi watershed in this Google Map image taken in May 2024.</figcaption> </figure>  Kumar Gurung, 54, was bailing out muddy water from inside his half-demolished house. He had bought the home only two days previously in the village of Bhaleswar with Rs3 million that his son, Dinesh, saved after working in Qatar. “My son’s years of hard work were washed away in minutes by the Rosi,” said Gurung in a raspy voice due to fever. Upriver in Panauti, Ganesh Dahal stares with his head resting on a hand, at what is left of his house which is buried by mud. This was the spot from where he had helped dig out the bodies of his 2 month old grand-daughter and daughter-in-law.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008151024_2ec425286997c5f75e6d43e8e6a6c5cbf17d9bfe55899518fbddcb9bb87f34ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241008151024_2ec425286997c5f75e6d43e8e6a6c5cbf17d9bfe55899518fbddcb9bb87f34ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Quarries along the Rosi River in Khusadevi."> <figcaption>Quarries along the Rosi River in Khusadevi.</figcaption> </figure>  “It took just minutes for ten lives to be lost,” he says, explaining that he is counting his daughter-in-law, her baby, and eight goats which were also like family. Ganesh’s wife is weeping silently nearby as relatives console her. Their daughter Puja had just come down a few days previously from her husband’s house to spend time with her parents. It was early morning on 28 September, and it had been raining constantly for two days already. Puja had got up at dawn to feed her baby, given the goats fodder, when the mudslide hit the house and she raised the alarm. The whole family decided to move up the mountain for safety. Ganesh’s daughter-in-law, Gopini, carried the baby and told Puja to run ahead. Just then a bigger slide buried them. “I was a little way behind, but saw the landslide take Gopini and the baby away,” Ganesh remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_ce23b02a81f46223f4be66d65fc2fa015fc3952ec53234258bfe9b0b0d4370b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241007131020_ce23b02a81f46223f4be66d65fc2fa015fc3952ec53234258bfe9b0b0d4370b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_5c078a7eb2fe3b15f653ad7d0c9047339bb2dddd538c395f07e20689eb9c3e63.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241007131020_5c078a7eb2fe3b15f653ad7d0c9047339bb2dddd538c395f07e20689eb9c3e63" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="2296" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> <figcaption>Photos: ARCHANA DARJI and SHAMSHAD AHMAD</figcaption> </figure>  The wall of mud also buried the home that he had rebuilt after it was damaged by the 2015 earthquake. His sons rushed home from Banepa, and started digging but it was not till the next morning that they found Gopini’s body still clasping the dead baby. “No one helped us, neither the police nor the officials we elected to the municipality,” says Ganesh. “They still have not come.” Homesteads in these mountains are scattered along the slopes, and help is hard to reach. Still, even a week later, no government agency has visited the village. The roads are damaged, so the family cannot even go anywhere. At nearby Jorghatta village, Guman Singh has just retrieved household items from his home which was buried by a mudslide. Scattered around him are bottles of spices, cooking oil and some food.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_25aa6caddc4d3f305bbdce2809375d1a8a5e2579cc9b3ff50aba8e4f661f9c8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241007131020_25aa6caddc4d3f305bbdce2809375d1a8a5e2579cc9b3ff50aba8e4f661f9c8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007131020_8eb71c38cd867ce7e5ead08be2455ddde91a012e04442484499e310a24ca412e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241007131020_8eb71c38cd867ce7e5ead08be2455ddde91a012e04442484499e310a24ca412e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi flood"> </figure>  &nbsp;Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair">Flood of despair</a>, Rastraraj Bhandari “It’s gone, everything is gone,” he mutters. “We heard it coming down, so we ran for safety. But we lost the house and everything in it. Neighbour Namrata Nagarkoti’s house was also swept away. “It is like I am not conscious, and watching myself going about,” she says, still in shock of what has befallen her family. There was a lot of commotion that morning from neighbours who shouted: “Run, run, there is a flood coming.” She and her family managed to climb to higher ground, but watched the flood take their home away. “We had no time to take anything out,” she says. “We had just harvested the paddy and corn, we had some cash. We have nothing except the clothes we are wearing.” The Rosi River has changed course and is now flowing through Tilak Tamang’s house which only has one wall left. His roadside eatery is filled with slushy mud. “We had no time to take anything out,” Tamang says. “I just have this T-shirt and half pants I am wearing. The Rosi took everything.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008151028_c2cb6d1529b0f9b6419cc97ab5199ef9aab4a8e54f0bacfa8c4bedcba570560e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241008151028_c2cb6d1529b0f9b6419cc97ab5199ef9aab4a8e54f0bacfa8c4bedcba570560e" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="Downstream from the Rosi after it joins the Sun Kosi, a 200m section of the B P Highway was washed away by the flood on 28 September, cutting off Kathmandu from the eastern parts of the country."> <figcaption>Downstream from the Rosi after it joins the Sun Kosi, a 200m section of the B P Highway was washed away by the flood on 28 September, cutting off Kathmandu from the eastern parts of the country. PEMA LAMA / RSS</figcaption> </figure>  Nearby, Dil Kumari Raut was luckier. She managed to save her livestock and her home, but her paddy field ready for harvest is all gone. “What is important is that I am alive,” she tells us. Of the total 244 people who are so far known to have lost their lives in Nepal’s flood last week, 69 died only in the Rosi Valley. Of the 71 injured, most are still in Dhulikhel Hospital. Some villagers had walked all day to Bhaleswar to get relief supplies and food, they were resting by the road and looked tired, hungry and traumatised. Panauti Municipality is distributing 35kg of rice, 2kg dal, salt, and cooking oil to each family. But some of the villagers complained they got only half the rice. “Most of the relief supplies are going to friends of the local officials and those living along the roads,” says Dinesh Gurung. “For us from up the mountains there is nothing.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008151028_2dd3673e5ff21a10e60fd3a25b5944292f1c89d04f8f486782679b0505b92d99.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241008151028_2dd3673e5ff21a10e60fd3a25b5944292f1c89d04f8f486782679b0505b92d99" data-rendition-name="original" width="858" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="How the floodplain of the Sun Kosi at Mulkot, downstream from the Rosi, has been overbuilt between 2003 and 2024. The resort was swept away, as was a part of the highway."> <figcaption>How the floodplain of the Sun Kosi at Mulkot, downstream from the Rosi, has been overbuilt between 2003 and 2024. The resort was swept away, as was a part of the highway. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  With Dasain around the corner, most villagers up here say they have nothing to eat, no safe drinking water, no electricity and no homes. “Where do we go now?” asks Indra Tamang. “Where is the government?” Most villagers said they had never got the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">forecast warnings</a> the Department of Meteorology put out about the heavy rainfall a week before the flood hit. Although most in Kathmandu had heard the warnings on the radio or phones, the information had not gotten up here in the mountains of Kavre. “It was normal to expect rain, but we did not know it was going to be so heavy,” says Tanka Banjara, who is the disaster management coordinator for his ward council. “If we had been forewarned, we could have moved to safer places.” Many seniors here do not recall <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">rain and flood damage on this scale</a> before. There was a flood in 1981 also, but the damage was not as bad. “Our village has become a cemetery. How can we survive here?” asks Ganesh Dahal.&nbsp;

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A flood of tears on the Rosi

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/637237999c7e80680e0c733cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="533"/><figcaption>Sangam and Laxmi Mahato, sisters of Dilip Mahato, who was killed by the sand mafia three years ago for protesting their mining operation. Photos: ANITA BHETWAL</figcaption></figure>Sangam and Laxmi Mahato were very happy that their only brother, 24-year-old Om Prakash (Dilip) Mahato, was coming home after graduating from college in India.The sisters got to spend barely two weeks with Dilip before he was murdered by contractors extracting sand from the Aurahi River by the village. They crushed him beneath a tipper truck.Dilip had been protesting illegal sand mining and actively organising the local community to conserve the fragile Chure Hills. More than two years after his death, after being threatened by their brother’s killers, the sisters have brought their struggle for justice to Kathmandu.Their father Ram Jiwan Mahato has also come to Kathmandu with his daughters and said in a resigned voice: "Our life isn't the same anymore. I want to see the criminals pay for their crime while I am still alive. We had to come to Kathmandu to make our voice heard.”Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/">Drawing a line in the sand</a>, Bhrikuti Rai<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/6372379b9c7e80680e0c733djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="702" height="837"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the last three years, the case against the seven perpetrators has been postponed more than ten times by the courts, while the contractors are still gouging out sand from the Aurahi. Acting on a case filed by one of the accused, the Dhanusa District Court has also issued an interim order forbidding the family from obstructing the sand mining operations.But Sangam, 24, and Laxmi, 22,  are not giving up without a fight. They have vowed to carry on Dilip’s struggle, to bring his murderers to justice, and to end the destructive extraction from their river.“Our brother walked half the way,” Sangam said resolutely. “We will complete the rest.”A month and a half after Dilip’s murder, the community in Shreepur village decided to stop sand mining. Barely two days later, dozens of tipper trucks arrived at night to transport sand.As per Nepal’s Riverine Material Management Procedure 2019, the use of heavy equipment in sand mining of river beds is banned to limit the destruction.When Sangam called the police, elected officials passed the buck to the local municipality. The local contractor Bechan Sharma and officers from the Dhalkebar Police Station reached the scene. But instead of apprehending the contractor, police inspector Tej Bahadur Karki threatened the sisters. The family continues to receive threats and is under immense pressure to withdraw the murder complaint. They are constantly followed wherever they go, while others have tried to bribe the family. None of this has stopped Dilip’s family from trying to prevent illegal sand mining from their neighbourhood.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/need-and-greed/">Need and greed</a>, EditorialBefore she travelled to Kathmandu with her sister, Laxmi took this reporter to the banks of the Aurahi. Two excavators and four tractors were busy extracting sand from the river against the 2019 guidelines.When we called the Dhalkebar police that there was illegal sand extraction going on in the river bed, the person at the other end of the line dismissed it saying, “Even if we come, they will have left by the time we get there.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/6372379e9c7e80680e0c733ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="462"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The police did not show up for the next hour, but within minutes of our call, the trucks and the bulldozers were gone.Since Dilip’s murder, the contractors have taken away sand from a 10 km stretch of the river. But every time they call the police, they immediately get threats from the sand mafia.Last year, when Dilip’s cousin Aditya asked the proprietor of the Churimai Crusher Industry Binod Mahato to stop his illegal activity, goons came to his house and threatened to kill him.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hiding-their-head-in-the-sand/">Hiding their head in the sand</a>, Ramu Sapkota“After that, my mother did not let me stay at home,” recalled Aditya, who stayed away for six months.Despite the risk, Ram Jiwan is proud of his daughters. “I lost one son, and my daughters continuously receive threats, but there is no fear in our blood.”Before coming to Kathmandu, Sangam and Laxmi collected data on the activities of sand and boulder miners and quarry owners in the region. Even if the authorities don’t take any action against the perpetrators, they want the community to be aware of the issues. “If we teach the students about the importance of conserving the Chure, some of them may continue the fight,” said Sangam.But Laxmi believes that, ultimately, change has to come from the central, provincial and local governments, with strict implementation of environmental protection policies.When not fighting for the environment, or running around the courts, Sangam gives tuition classes to school children and Laxmi teaches at Janata Secondary School in Mithila Municipality. They earn barely enough to pay off the Rs3.5 million that the family owes money lenders.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/crushers-of-justice/">Crushers of justice</a>, EditorialSangam also heads the Om Prakash Mahato (Dilip) Environment Conservation Academy, an NGO established two years ago, and Laxmi keeps track of the ongoing court case.The Dilip Academy has built a garden area, Dilip Chure Batika, after receiving Rs1.5million from the President Chure Tarai-Madhes Conservation Development Board. The family has also invested Rs2 million from the central government, and Rs500,000 from the Madhes government after Dilip’s death in the institution.But what the sisters really want is justice, and the termination of the sand mining contracts. In a community which marries off daughters after Grade 10, it was Dilip who convinced their parents to let his sisters go to college.With his support, the two sisters were preparing for the civil service exams when he was killed. Both sisters now want to go to university to study Environment Science.Said Sangam: “If our brother were alive, the situation of not only our family but also the environment would have been better. We want to contribute however we can to fulfil his dreams.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/drowning-in-sorrow/">Drowning in sorrow</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel

Anita Bhetwal

Sisters carry on slain brother’s fight

Drawing a line in the sand

<figure><img width="720" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70889c7e80680e060081jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A scene from students' protest in Kathmandu following the death of Dilip Mahato. Photo: BIKRAM RAI </figcaption></figure>This week, in a crime that shocked the nation, a young engineering student was killed and his body crushed with a tipper truck for opposing a sand-mining contractor in Dhanusha.Just 24 years old, Om Prakash (‘Dilip’) Mahato had come home from college in Bhopal in India. He was incensed about how the Churiyamai Crusher Industry was illegally extracting sand and boulders from the Aurahi River under cover of darkness. The contractor Bipin Mahato had threatened the boy’s father three days previously, saying he would kill him for trying to ruin his business. Before dawn on a fog-bound morning last Friday, Dilip heard earth-moving vehicles near the farm and went to inspect. He was attacked with an iron rod, and killed by contractor Bipin Mahato. To make it look like an accident, his body was then run over by tipper driver Munindra Mahato and Jitendra Mahato.Police have reportedly extracted confessions from all four of the accused, and taken them into custody. The contractor has owned up to impaling Dilip with the sharp end of an iron rod, and the tipper driver has confessed to running over the body.The hopes of Dilip’s farming family was on this hard-working and idealistic young man who was about to graduate. He leaves behind six sisters, ailing parents and a grandfather. As has <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/crushing-tale-of-Chure">often been reported in this paper</a> and in investigative reports in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Chure,3829">other Nepali language media</a>, the appropriately named ‘Crusher’ industry is run by a mafia enjoying political protection from local, district and provincial administrations. Most have strong ties to political parties, with some being wholly or partly owned by those holding office. While activists who have exposed illegal sand mining have often been threatened and silenced in the past, this is the first time that someone opposed to unlawful extraction from rivers has been executed by the quarry mafia. It speaks volumes about the state of impunity in Nepal today that the perpetrators were convinced they could get away with it. Having politicians, the security apparatus and the courts in their pockets, they think they can literally get away with murder. The crime exposes the criminalisation of politics and the politicisation of crime in federal Nepal, where instead of devolving political power, it is wrongdoing that has been decentralised in the past two years..What an irony that the contractor had named his ‘crusher’ company after Churiyamai, the goddess protector of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19811#.XhwHdS2Q0Wo">Chure Hills</a>. This southernmost wrinkle of the Himalayan range that rises from the plains does not have bedrock beneath, but sand, boulders and topsoil. The Chure covers 12% of the country and stretches from east to west, spanning 36 districts. The 200 rivers that originate here are dry most of the year, but turn into raging torrents in the monsoonOnce the trees are cut on a Chure slope, there is nothing to hold the soil together and it is eroded very quickly by rain. The sediment is then swept downstream to the Tarai, raising river beds and making floods worse. Indiscriminate logging, illegal sand and boulder mining has ravaged the Chure, especially in the east-central Tarai.The devastating <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-2019-deluge/">floods last year</a> and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Flood-on-the-border-Nepal-India,3915">in 2017</a> in Rautahat and eastwards, was caused by extreme rainfall, but it was exacerbated by haphazard embankment building and the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/Madhesi-parties-disappoint-in-the-aftermath-of-flood,1009">extraction of sand and boulders</a> from rivers which increased the velocity of their flow.This wanton destruction of the Chure in the hands of a politico-criminal nexus puts more than 10 million Nepali plains-dwellers and many more millions downstream in India <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/development-destruction/">at risk of floods</a>.And then sugarcane farmers were in the capital’s Mandala after failing to be paid by factory owners for the cane they supplied. After being given the runaround, they brought their case to the streets of the capital. They camped out in the winter rain for several days, and the government finally signed an agreement with the farmers, assuring them that factory owners would clear their dues by 21 January.The nefarious nexus between business and government means they scratch each other’s backs, and it is very likely that this agreement will never be implemented, just like all previous ones. The farmers’ agitation has already dropped off the media headlines, so the sugar barons will try to ride this one out, and like in the past the government’s promised subsidy to farmers will never reach them. The Province 2 government belatedly said on Monday it will close all illegal ‘crushers’, but the proof of the pudding in Nepal is always in the eating.Any surprise then that the incompetent men who tolerate these injustices will not allow their own comrade, Shivamaya Tumbahangphe, to take over as Speaker. Instead, they are pushing the candidacy of Agni Sapkota, who is accused of a war crime.

Crushers of justice

Between the 1980s and 2000s, over 5,000 <a href="https://download.ssrn.com/11/01/06/ssrn_id1736064_code1383023.pdf?response-content-disposition=inline&amp;X-Amz-Security-Token=IQoJb3JpZ2luX2VjEBkaCXVzLWVhc3QtMSJIMEYCIQCiYUc7BuJ7zaDn%2BOTCFOWBgNKqYarnapqY%2FWZbamFVsgIhAOC%2FPFXHR9Dx6xTicWMj5%2BJXdIEGZ7LxKRyjrCe61Ng9KsYFCPL%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2FwEQBBoMMzA4NDc1MzAxMjU3IgzWD1Y1XNz2kaOS3jEqmgX0TbxyBTTrZrpd%2B5N72pFzJAwc%2BxTF8Dc0GnVG2tUGUYyxBt1YmfEqAw5cdOuRCZV23SSKkJwndg9IwI3yrjZGBp9XKxg4lK4Vq0Qy9RMmma5hNCVnA2T0MwGghlnmkgWPZA5ouZPiKFAecf4PE5qml2fu1wj72LEAig5R77cN6nC6%2BxTcygMiuiHrR9yZB4RyvTD9s58avGqUcn9hcIUdku3ydvAGVEgczzgEMCesRMtSgqzHz3E9bju9QLR5RpcDRp0wptfQ89uGXgyBGLCX%2BAl6uareSxQCSaDOthP4PmswWI7y7kBJbQp1pZq8r56Yoa3Qf5WVtmxbsWmDtbOsaSBa0yB6EIS8RKFGeQ%2Bcz%2BnEsOoPHIS%2BqO1k1%2BQuihjN0T66SnWFo8rl8Cv2g4GghY9p9DR3wopBJ6cE%2FtDJMY%2BZ03LkUwS%2Fc7ckyaRpfPX5g6Bb9J56a%2BNA5lnIV5o%2Fpjp%2BZJaVIvEzciyzzTwP58wznmcy3xppvK%2BwXBzBR96cPMXKTdNv9%2FqJ5jlnsgSRJpHWE3UyHbFucwQYXi19i7mCglFSuSkkL5Tg9nQWvXpuP9Z9VmMlQfQ%2F%2FpsfA6KlL81K3UK%2Bp%2FJB2mxQD9SYexZvAf1g21NUSF%2F8I19orsNrT6LutAnoJU%2FOTgO3qMbdgnR%2FuBytI3POnQAEIfbG0Za%2FrEDJ9j8CEbasNXsBMqkx8JKGRG2PUHMRC2xl5Z%2BNIbpsqGB8t%2BvAt40osDpgZStiyeiGdC1nMakUzZtBjWlttzoirCdemwPKJ8M%2BEohj2%2BLEN92yaOKdFewns0gjh%2BUxcotGvBo%2F7QZFappBNjLlR0PyanjcuB4MndEQjeIrd67ntscTKiLDI%2FfzwCHulsl6nbMpewpWFAYwg67guwY6sAGb3VJ2q%2F36hWhrVa8igP2hswnnLlcIU2uhOZa5ge2hCXkUYhL1BcSJfoWy2LwrWCXtdFo%2BT7KMU3p6O3jySdxSop8F4iO%2BJBiXVjSiXm%2FqZo3ri8sVwUgo4ksJI%2BT4AbfK3D3VGYapBgU5LdX%2FjkNwSVoR1vz4vMIyF56i7MKeYG1nFLgc0l9cIjrQI6eY869uIbgZ1XKqqBsuavCbYjSbSy7dMP0QSym%2FgmoWILGE0Q%3D%3D&amp;X-Amz-Algorithm=AWS4-HMAC-SHA256&amp;X-Amz-Date=20250103T172339Z&amp;X-Amz-SignedHeaders=host&amp;X-Amz-Expires=300&amp;X-Amz-Credential=ASIAUPUUPRWE65YAH56X%2F20250103%2Fus-east-1%2Fs3%2Faws4_request&amp;X-Amz-Signature=9b654b526e0779da4fa9f54e2fcde04ac9f7e91fb50d4f8094b1039ebb19e21b&amp;abstractId=1736064">Nepali children were adopted abroad</a>, primarily to the United States, France, and Spain. While international adoption was intended to provide vulnerable children with better opportunities, child trafficking and irregular practices prompted Nepal to suspend adoptions in 2007, and overhaul its policies. By 2010, stricter regulations aligned with the <a href="https://www.hcch.net/en/instruments/conventions/specialised-sections/intercountry-adoption">Hague Adoption Convention</a> drastically reduced adoption numbers. Today, many of these children, now adults, are returning to Nepal in search of their roots, only to encounter a society that no longer recognises them, legally or socially. Behind the statistics lie the <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01GRNPPXAC1Z3AETV9HARNCG5Q">deeply personal and emotional journey</a> of adoptees returning to reconnect with their past, seek family, and rediscover a sense of belonging. These stories reflect a broader struggle for identity and the complexities of bridging two worlds. Maya Adopted at 9 by a family in Barcelona, Maya carried fragmented memories of her early life in Nepal including the painful recollection of the day her mother and sister vanished, leaving her and her younger siblings behind. She had faint images of her mother, elder sister, and the village where she once lived. In June 2017, Maya came to Nepal accompanied by Chandra Kala and two friends, Jay and Vikram. With only a few photographs of her mother Tulsi, her elder sister Pargati, and her brother-in-law Kamal, along with a street name, Maya arrived in Birendranagar after a 20-hour bus ride from Kathmandu. “Now that we’re close, I feel like I can’t face them,” she confessed to Chandra Kala, wrestling with anxiety about what she might uncover. “I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll recognise them or if they’ll recognise me. I don’t know how they’ll react or what they’ll say. And then there’s him [Kamal]. I have such bad memories of him. I don’t know if I can handle this.” Chandra Kala reassured her, reminding her of her courage and the importance of this moment. Maya and her companions asked around the town with little success until a shopkeeper recognised Kamal and directed them to a nearby village. Jay went to confirm and returned excitedly, shouting, “It’s her! It’s your sister!” Maya froze, paralysed by fear and anticipation but she pushed ahead. At the village, Maya’s sister Pargati initially struggled to recognise her. Jay introduced Maya: “Do you recognise her? This is your younger sister. She’s come all the way from Spain to find you.” Slowly, realisation dawned, and the two women embraced, bridging the decades of separation with tears and disbelief. The next day, Maya met her mother Tulsi in an emotionally overwhelming reunion. Tulsi rushed into the room and embraced Maya tightly, sobbing uncontrollably: “Mero chhora-chhori, gaye, gaye… my children they went, they went …” Once the tears subsided, Tulsi and Pargati began recounting the heartbreaking circumstances of their separation. After the death of her husband, Tulsi faced relentless judgment in their village when Kamal stayed with the family before his marriage to Pargati. The villagers accused Tulsi of impropriety, calling her पापी (sinful) and demanded that the family leave. “We didn’t want to leave, but the village didn’t want us here,” explained Pargati. “We left intending to bring you and your siblings later. But when we returned, you were gone.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>An adoptee and companion return to Bal Mandir in Kathmandu after 19 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  Tulsi recalled how she had entrusted Maya and her siblings to relatives, hoping they would be cared for temporarily. However, when she returned, the children had been sent away without her knowledge. “I only trusted them because I had no other choice,” Tulsi said through tears. “I didn’t know they would send my children away. What kind of mother does that make me? They called me a bad mother, but what else could I have done?” The reunion brought healing and answers but it also exposed the societal pressures that had fractured Maya’s family. Despite the challenges, Maya spent the rest of her visit bonding with her sister, nieces, and younger half-sister, Sunita, slowly bridging the gaps created by time and distance. Maya’s journey was a testament to the courage required to confront the past, the pain of uncovering difficult truths, and the hope of rebuilding connections once lost. Her story highlights the enduring emotional complexity faced by adoptees navigating their history and identity. Ashmita Unlike some adoptees whose main focus is reuniting with their biological family, 26-year-old Ashmita’s priority has been to uncover the institutional details surrounding her adoption. She wanted to understand what the orphanage and the government knew about her background and why so much information seemed concealed. “I just want to know where I come from,” she said. “Even if I never find my biological family, having a better sense of the places and people connected to my story would mean so much.” For many adoptees, returning to Nepal is not just about reconnecting emotionally, it is about seeking formal recognition as members of the Nepali community. However, the legal framework in Nepal often fails to acknowledge their unique status.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>A mother reunites with her don after 18 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  In Nepali law, adoptees are left in limbo: their birth parents are not considered legal parents, and their ties to the country are effectively erased upon adoption. This lack of recognition creates significant hurdles, particularly in two key areas: accessing pre-adoption records and obtaining Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) status. Despite international norms like the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which guarantees the right to know one’s origins, institutions often refuse to cooperate. Orphanages and non-profits in Nepal, which hold critical pre-adoption records such as birth certificates and citizenship documents, frequently withhold this information, reflecting the systemic reluctance to provide transparency. In numerous cases, records that should include family names, addresses, or relinquishment agreements were either incomplete or falsified. These practices not only prevent adoptees from reclaiming their histories but also perpetuate their disconnection from their heritage. Ashmita’s initial requests for information from her adoption agency were met with delays and incomplete responses. When she turned to the orphanage where she spent her early years, she encountered even greater resistance. At one point, the director of the orphanage issued veiled threats. Nevertheless, Ashmita persisted and managed to find the name of the individual who had brought her to the orphanage. However, the person had disappeared, leaving yet another gap in her story. A breakthrough came when Ashmita accessed a police report that suggested she might have been born in a different municipality than the one in her adoption records, prompting her to seek help from local authorities. The police took an interest in her case and began investigating possible connections to her birth family. While progress was slow, they meticulously followed leads to help her trace her origins. “It’s not easy,” Ashmita said of the process. “But every small step feels like I’m piecing something back together.” She also noted that societal perceptions could add to the difficulty. At times, she felt questioned about her identity and her right to seek answers. “People have asked me why I care so much or even suggested that I’m not Nepali anymore because I was adopted abroad,” she reflected. Ashmita’s story is a complex account of persistence in the face of institutional and personal challenges. While her search has not yet provided all the answers she seeks, it continues to offer her insights into her early life and the systems that shaped her adoption journey. &nbsp;“These records are sealed for a reason. They are not meant to be reopened,” said a government official. Even an NGO representative said: “It’s better for everyone if the past remains in the past.” An orphanage director asked: “Why are you asking these questions? This is not your place anymore.” Hari Prasad Sacré The Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) card is a lifeline for Nepali diaspora members, granting them residency and property rights in Nepal. Yet, adoptees are notably excluded from this framework. While the law stipulates eligibility for individuals whose parents or grandparents were Nepali citizens, it makes no provision for adoptees whose legal ties to their Nepali parents were severed by adoption. When Hari Prasad Sacré, a Nepali adoptee, sought to obtain an NRN card at the Nepal Embassy in Belgium, he encountered officials unfamiliar with processing an NRN request from an adoptee. His case was the first of its kind, setting a precedent but also highlighting the systemic barriers adoptees face. "You are not eligible; your surname is Sacré, it is not a Nepali name," an embassy staff said.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5" data-rendition-name="original" width="446" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>Hari Prasad Sacré receives tika from his father Khul Prasad Adhikari during Dasain, a few weeks after receiving his NRN card. Photo: HARI PRASAD SACRÉ</figcaption> </figure>  Sacré’s situation was legally ambiguous. Although his biological parents, including his father, Khul Prasad Adhikari, are alive and he maintains contact with them, he no longer had “legal” ties to Nepal due to the adoption process. Carrying a Belgian surname the embassy staff was initially convinced the adoptee couldn’t claim Nepali origin. Nepali law, which does not recognise biological parents as legal guardians once a child is adopted, created complications for the NRN application. To navigate this complexity, Sacré relied on a testimony from his father. Issued by a local government body in Kaski, the testimony affirmed that Hari had been put up for adoption and was of Nepali origin. While this enabled the embassy to approve his NRN card, the process was unnecessarily protracted and emotionally charged, highlighting the inadequacy of current policies to accommodate the unique situations of adoptees. Sacré’s case represents a rare instance where biological parents were alive and willing to provide testimony, but many adoptees are not as fortunate. A large number of adoptees were declared “orphans” during the adoption process, even when their parents were alive. This severed their legal ties to Nepal, stripping them of documentation that could later prove their origin. For others, the absence of living biological relatives or access to their original adoption records creates insurmountable barriers. Without clear documentation or a family member to vouch for their Nepali heritage, adoptees are excluded from the NRN framework. This denies them the rights and privileges afforded by the card, including property rights, legal recognition, and a formal connection to their homeland. Current laws fail to account for the complexities of adoptees’ legal status, leaving them disconnected from their cultural and legal heritage. Adoption papers, as evidence of Nepali descent, should be accepted as proof, granting adoptees rightful access to the NRN card and ensuring their inclusion in Nepal’s diaspora. Such reforms are crucial to ensure that all adoptees, regardless of their circumstances, can reclaim their heritage and establish a sense of belonging in Nepali society. Without these changes, the systemic exclusion of adoptees will persist, perpetuating inequities and denying them the opportunity to step up as active members of the Nepali diaspora. Sacré’s case serves as both a precedent and a call to action. It exemplifies the challenges and triumphs of adoptees navigating complex bureaucracies and advocates for a more inclusive and equitable approach to reconnecting adoptees with their homeland. Nepal can draw inspiration from South Korea, where the government has actively supported the reintegration of adoptees into their society. The F4 visa, established through efforts by organisations like the Global Overseas Adoptees’ Link (GOA'L), grants adoptees the right to live and work in Korea, while dual citizenship acknowledges their dual identity as members of the diaspora and their country of origin. GOA’L further fosters reconnection by offering language classes and cultural exchange programs, creating opportunities for meaningful reintegration and belonging. As Nepal refines its NRN citizenship framework, explicitly including adoptees could address the severance of legal and cultural ties caused by international adoption. Such inclusion would provide adoptees a pathway to residency, citizenship, and rights, enabling them to reconnect with their heritage. Complementing this with programs for language acquisition, cultural immersion, and historical education would honour Nepal’s responsibility to the approximately 5,000 children sent abroad. Nepal could establish a dedicated organisation similar to South Korea’s GOA’L and help adoptees access pre-adoption records, navigate legal processes, and engage in cultural exchange initiatives. It would also serve as a bridge between adoptees and Nepali society, fostering mutual understanding and collaboration. This article is based on doctoral studies by <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01H4Z85GPS63ZWDJ3WB2E6KS70">Hari Prasad Sacré</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10357823.2022.2142932">Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez</a>. Hari Prasad Sacré, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at Ghent University in Belgium, specialising in cultural translation, multilingualism, and identity in education. His PhD, Reading Illiteracy, explored fractured multilingualism and illiteracy in displaced identities such as adoptees, with work published in leading journals like Critical Arts and the European Journal for Cultural Studies. Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at the AFIN Research Group, Autonomous University of Barcelona, with a PhD in Social Anthropology. Her research focuses on family strategies, reproductive decisions, and adoption, with extensive fieldwork in Spain and Nepal examining adoptee reunions and related governance and rights.

Searching for a homeland away from home

Villages along the proposed alignment of Nepal’s ambitious <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/putting-nepal-on-the-right-track">east-west train project</a> are excited about the connectivity and development it will bring. But here in Hariban village there is only apprehension. While elsewhere, there are environmental concerns about the train track slicing through national parks and protected forests, here along the densely populated Tarai plains there is worry about losing farmlands. “This project will cost me a big chunk of my land,” says Dinesh Mahato, who farms a small plot in the Ghurkauli village near the East-West Highway. “Why should I agree to give it all away when I will only be compensated partially?” Hari Narayan Mahato echoes his brother’s anger. “The map shows that I have to give up nearly 700 sq m of land, but I know the area is going to be three times bigger once construction begins,” he says. “It’s just not worth it.” There is also opposition in the Dhanpati locality, and 10 households from these two villages have refused to accept the government’s compensation rate for land which they say is much less than market value.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050152_41071574c82ba8f9698b8b7fdecb3ebf280dd314b1175262d961f76dc6d6ad5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250105050152_41071574c82ba8f9698b8b7fdecb3ebf280dd314b1175262d961f76dc6d6ad5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1292" height="821" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  The East-West Electric Railway project will ultimately be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-journey-to-electric-public-transport">Nepal’s transportation </a>artery stretching from the eastern border with India in Jhapa to Kanchanpur, connecting 24 districts. It will intersect with the proposed Birganj-Kathmandu railway at a junction in Sarlahi district. When completed, Nepal’s 950km long ‘gateway to prosperity’ as it has been dubbed, will have 123 stations, 10 tunnels, 334 bridges, a dam, and a 132kV transmission line to supply electricity to the locomotives. The project will require the acquisition of about 4,520 hectares of land, including 518 plots belonging to 4,000 households. Some of this will be along corridors through Chitwan, Bardia, Banke and Sukla Phanta <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/does-nepal-need-the-army-to-guard-parks">National Parks</a> and other nature reserves. Controversy about land acquisition and compensation as well as environmental impact have stalled the project since 2010. “The biggest issue has been compensation for land,” admits Kamal Kumar Shah of the Department of Railways. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/india-china-rail-race">India-China rail race</a>, Shristi Karki This means less than half of the work along the 70km Bardibas-Nijgad segment has been completed and 16 bridges built, and this is the first section of the railway where construction started 15 years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_9e1de8c104dcbd239a70d4a3abda71579f86502c8b9f4cdd7e184aeef90eb638.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250105050148_9e1de8c104dcbd239a70d4a3abda71579f86502c8b9f4cdd7e184aeef90eb638" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Says Senior Division Engineer Kiran Karki: “It is difficult to work here, people have built houses in public land, knowing that the railway is coming. How do we ask them to leave?” Part of the delay is also due to lack of budget, and this has increased the initial estimate of the total cost because of the increase in land value. The government has nationalised over 190 hectares for the Kakadbhitta-Inaruwa section of the railway in the eastern Tarai for which it will have to distribute Rs24.41 billion in compensation. But the budget allocated for that is only Rs1.5 billion. This means farmers have lost their land, but have not yet been compensated. The East-West Railway line was initially estimated to cost around Rs1 billion per km, but this has increased to Rs1.5 billion per km. Just the first Bardibas-Nijgad section will need an additional Rs50 billion to complete. The estimate for the entire project was estimated at Rs955 billion, but a revised budget has already surpassed Rs1.5 trillion. A major bridge across the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/kosi-now-kathmandu-next">Kosi</a> north of the barrage on the Indian border is expected to cost more than Rs410 billion. The &nbsp;Detailed Project Report (DPR) has been revised to build an elevated line over towns in the Butwal section, for example, to avoid paying exorbitant compensation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-railways-janakpur-test-drive">Nepal Railways Janakpur test drive</a> “This project works on multi-year contracts, which have been difficult to award due to a lack of budget,” says Shah. “So the date of completion of the project depends on money being forthcoming.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_addd8a08b727efb1bf1f71752dce1a28d6ea2e9d5f76dafe5dbc9a53a223c5e0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250105050148_addd8a08b727efb1bf1f71752dce1a28d6ea2e9d5f76dafe5dbc9a53a223c5e0" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Meanwhile, activists have raised concern over the project’s environmental cost. The Railway Department has prepared DPRs for four sections of the railway, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/from-nowhere-to-nowhere">Environmental Impact Assessments (EIA)</a> have not been carried out. In Chitwan, the proposed route was realigned to avoid Chitwan National Park following a Supreme Court stay order. However, Chitwan residents have now formed a Railway Victims’ Struggle Committee, saying that the new route would cut through their densely populated communities. “We only found that our land would be part of the railway line when the people from the Railway Department came here last year,” says Hari Thapaliya of Bharatpur Municipality. “The decision to reroute the track was made overnight without any consultation with us.” Angered locals had set fire to a Railway Department vehicle when a survey team reached Krishnapur in July. Bharatpur Deputy Mayor Chitrasen Adhikari says the Railway Department did not even coordinate with the municipality about the new route. “We have proposed an alternate route to the Department,” she adds. “This project affects the livelihoods of people across <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/fogbound-tarai">the Tarai</a>, their concerns must be heard, and they must be included in the decision-making process,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_682ed3ef3e398592f098d1ac638faa4d3b7517515e0f1b2014cb9c4383e6d9c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250105050148_682ed3ef3e398592f098d1ac638faa4d3b7517515e0f1b2014cb9c4383e6d9c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  The problem is that 53% of Nepal’s total population now lives along the narrow strip of plains along the Indian border through which the railway line will pass. The Railway Department is squeezed between the need to balance environmental concerns with high compensation demands of locals. Conservationists have maintained that the railway alignment will go through ecologically sensitive areas, disturbing and fragmenting the habitat of endangered species, blocking their migration routes and disrupting water and food sources. All of this could in turn increase <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">human-wildlife conflict</a>. Experts have suggested measures to invest in ‘ecological offsetting’ programs that help in the creation of new protected areas, restoration projects, and wildlife underpass and overpass corridors. There is also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-pre-monsoon-forest-fires-in-nepal">concern about the forests </a>that have to be sacrificed. Already, 13,500 trees have been cut down in the Bardibas-Nijgad section alone. The Sagarnath Forest, which stretches from Sarlahi to Mahottari, and areas under the Rautahat Division Forest also lie along the proposed alignment. Surya Raj Acharya blames inadequate monitoring and evaluation during the preparation of the DPR because government agencies lack sufficient technical capacity and experience in the railway sector.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_7823653d3f037122441c11f6485c5407acc716811bedf464255aefe3a76d97f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250105050148_7823653d3f037122441c11f6485c5407acc716811bedf464255aefe3a76d97f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  He adds, “Transparent financial planning and management are necessary to ensure the project’s sustainability and economic viability. But the contracts have been hurriedly awarded without proper land acquisition. An urgent review is necessary.” All this needs stronger political will and coordination between various agencies which is sorely lacking not just in the east-west railway project, but in other infrastructure schemes as well. When built, the nearly 1,000 km long railway will streamline cargo and passenger traffic, making it cheaper and more convenient for ordinary people. Railway junctions can also facilitate the north-south transshipment of goods and passenger traffic when coordinated with public transport. Transport costs for exports and imports from India will also be slashed. “A high-speed train running at 200 to 250km per hour will mean that trains will get from Kathmandu to Dhangadi faster than planes, and at much cheaper fares,” notes Acharya. Trains will also reduce carbon emissions by up to 30% compared to trucks and buses. Train lines will be the backbone of Nepal’s transportation system, boosting tourism in the Kathmandu, Chitwan and Lumbini triangle.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_ee137f417c5712be9d2d16f295ba7e30fc207e878214103e387346dfed3a9815.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250105050148_ee137f417c5712be9d2d16f295ba7e30fc207e878214103e387346dfed3a9815" data-rendition-name="original" width="577" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Ultimately, the Kerung-Kathmandu trans-Himalayan railway will connect with the Birganj-Kathmandu line and in future be a future non-maritime corridor for India-China trade. Nepal has been trying to get the East-West railway project funded through foreign investment, but so far there has not been much interest. There also needs to be a better viability study for future railway links, otherwise Nepal may be straddled with loans it cannot repay. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-and-china-to-study-trans-himalayan-railway">Nepal and China to study trans-Himalayan railway</a>, Ramesh Bhushal “The border region along the Tarai remains behind in terms of education, health, and the economy,” says economist Bishwo Poudel. “A railway line alone will not do much to improve their quality of life, there have to be other interventions.” Poudel adds that a north-south railway through Kathmandu to connect India and China through Nepal makes much more economic sense. China has been studying the Kerung-Kathmandu track with tunnels under <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cleaning-up-high-places">Langtang National Park</a>, which would have technological and financial challenges. India is also working on a railway alignment to connect Kathmandu to its border town of Raxaul. At present the only operational passenger railway in Nepal is the 35km cross-border Jaynagar–Janakpur–Bardibas line. The former Department of Railways Director General Rohit Kumar Bisural is a road engineer, and says: “Very few people in Nepal have experience in railways.”

Nepal train project struggles to stay on track

A young non-resident Newa person in Dallas emails a New York Times article to his grandfather in Nepal who cannot read English.
Grandad copies the English text, pastes it into Google Translate to read it in Newari.
This translation feature, available to the world’s major languages, can now also be used by the indigenous people of Kathmandu Valley to translate their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/decoding-diversity?fbclid=IwAR3P0GygTCQ7HE-LaaVOhmKSyUDLlIrR2l9VzXKwCFJ8Em7YFHSAOiiXqQE">mother tongue</a> into English and vice versa.
This involved three-and-a-half years of effort and will impact everyday life in the study and preservation of Newa culture. It also shows a path forward to Nepal’s 123 other languages and dialects.
The World Newah Organisation (WNO) in 2011 invited Newa people from around the world to a convention in London. Software engineer and historian Sanyukta Shrestha was involved, and now leads WNO.
The top priority for discussion was how to conserve the language which was classified as ‘definitely endangered’ by UNESCO, with only 850,000 speakers left.
“The Newa people are diverse: there are different sects, religions. The language and the calendar are what is common,” explains Shrestha. “The strategy was to unite the community behind an existing technology.”
Ujjwal Rajbhandari, an engineer at Google who does not even speak the language, got involved. “I thought why not take advantage of a great tool that already exists,” Rajbhandari, who is co-founder at Qubrid AI in Austin, Texas, told us on the phone.
Work started December 2020, but the prognosis was bleak. Engineers said that the project may take up to 10 years. Translate runs on a ‘transformer’, a machine learning neural network designed to take sequences as input, uses math to understand the context, and outputs a probable output. It uses an ‘attention’ mechanism, which looks at the input text and tries to work out the relationships of each word to each other word.
The more data you feed this statistical monster, the better it gets. But that was the first problem. There was a dire lack of digital material, either in Newari, bilingual Newari-Nepali or Newari-English dictionaries.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/languages-are-both-software-and-hardware">Languages are both software and hardware</a>
“Tens of thousands of digital pages of content were needed, so in 2021 we met with the editors of Newa magazines and asked to scan and digitise their material,” Shrestha recalls. “We hunted down writers, publishers, songwriters, invitation cards - anything that was written in Nepalbhasa.” &nbsp;
Google gave WNO a sheet of 1,200 sentences from random contexts, to be translated. WNO formed a committee to complete this task, and by April 2021, Translate could at least identify the language.
Nepalbhasa can be written in 13 different scripts, the two most popular are the Ranjana and Devanagari. The team chose the latter because there is a lot more material in Nepalbhasa in Devanagari, and many more people who can type in it. “Devanagari is what has allowed any of this work at all,” points out Shrestha. “Translation was the much harder problem to solve, converting output to another face is much easier.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation">Lost in translation</a>, Alisha Sijapati
Now the model needed a large volume of input from the community. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">Every AI model</a> is dependent on the volume of data, even that which is introduced later. User corrections are fed back, which makes the model more robust,” says Rajbhandari.
This happened to be at peak pandemic-time. People knew how to video-chat and had time on their hands. WNO members met for one or two hours in the evening, on a Zoom call that they also broadcast on Facebook. People worked together translating. Which was very effective, because they could get instant input or feedback from others on the call. “It was cool to see was how this brought together elders who knew the language deeply, and the youngsters who have the tech skills,” says Rajbhandari.
By February 2024 there were 500,000 contributions, and Google deemed that this volume of data was sufficient for the model to ‘level up’. Translate added Nepalbhasa to its list of supported languages in June last year. The language had now been intergrated into a tool that can be used for free from anywhere with an internet connection. Accuracy was unusally high, over 90%.
It opens up a whole different world on the internet, for those who only know Nepalbhasa, since any website integrated with Google can be used automatically and instantly converted to that language.
The translations are already being used in East Europe to translate legal documents, Newa songwriters, like Ujan Shakya, use it to convert English lyrics. And when Rajbhandari speaks to WNO over video, his English is instantly translated into Newari subtitles.
“Older people are happy that language will now not die. Younger ones can use it to self-learn the language, now they can’t blame elders for not teaching them,” says Shrestha.
Yet another use is the integration with large language models, like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/chatgpt-news-about-nepal">ChatGPT</a>. LLMs encounter Nepalbhasa in their training data, so they can already generate rudimentary responses.
Says Shrestha, “You can ask questions about a Newa book in English, and the LLM &nbsp;gives you a coherent answer and even cite the page number.” This makes the use of Newa books for research possible and a lot faster.
Leading this mammoth task led Shrestha to a better appreciation for his mother tongue. “I saw the richness of Newari. There are onomatopoeia and proverbs that only elders use, and it is these and the dialects that need to be saved,” he says.
The next step is a text-to-speech, speech-to-text interface, which would open up its use by those who speak and understand Nepalbhasa but may not read, write or type it. Tourists to Nepal would also benefit.
Rajbhandari wants to work on similar projects for other endangered languages of Nepal, and the team has shown that it does not need government to do such work.
Says Rajbhandari: “We have learned many things that would make integration of future languages more efficient so we can solve problems in other projects.”

Nepal Bhasa on Google Translate

The new year 2025 started literally with a bang. The 7.1M jolt in Xigatse on Tuesday swayed buildings in Kathmandu 400km away, and coincided with the approaching 91st anniversary of the 1934 Great Earthquake. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/be-prepared">National Earthquake Safety Day </a>on 15 January commemorates the 1934 8.3M disaster that killed 10,000 people in Kathmandu, leaving many collapsed buildings. Thousands of people of Kathmandu took shelter in tents in Tundikhel as aftershocks rattled the country (pictured).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250109070132_0d5b8bd0f1eb0350ec17f6b92a3e37b0b958976292520107b21efb961d883330.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250109070132_0d5b8bd0f1eb0350ec17f6b92a3e37b0b958976292520107b21efb961d883330" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="Tents"> <figcaption>Tents at Tundikhel housed survivors as aftershocks following the 1934 earthquake rocked the country for days.</figcaption> </figure>  This year is also the tenth anniversary of the 2015 7.8M Gorkha Earthquake that killed 9,000 people in central Nepal. These are all warnings about the ‘seismic gap’ in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/past-disasters-foretold" target="_blank">western Nepal</a> where there has not been a major quake for more than 500 years.&nbsp; That one that is overdue, and for which the country is woefully unprepared. Despite the distance, an 8M earthquake will not spare Kathmandu and other urban centres. “It will be catastrophic, and yet, there is no preparedness among the public or policymakers despite increased awareness,” warns <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/turkey-and-nepal-face-similar-seismic-risks" target="_blank">Surya Narayan Shrestha</a> of the National Society for Earthquake Technology (NSET Nepal) which has been involved in retrofitting public buildings.&nbsp; “The warning of the 2015 earthquake was not heeded, it has not translated into building safer or enforcing building codes,” Shrestha adds.&nbsp; There have been a series of smaller earthquakes in Jajarkot and Bajura in the past year, and it is an indication of the lack of preparedness that even <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deadly-earthquake-hits-w-nepal" target="_blank">moderate quakes like Jajarkot</a> killed so many and caused so much damage. The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) in its <a href="https://bipad.gov.np/uploads/publication_pdf/EPR_report_July_2022_Final_V4_(1)138720.pdf" target="_blank">Emergency Preparedness and Response Assessment</a> quantified earthquake preparedness levels in 23 municipalities. Kathmandu nearly failed with just 39.8%, while Doti in western Nepal scored the lowest at 11%. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/disastrous-preparedness">Disastrous preparedness</a> ‘This means that most criteria for emergency preparedness and response systems in Nepal are weak,’ stated the 2022 assessment. It underlined severe lack of search and rescue equipment for different hazards, dysfunctional emergency operations center network, and poorly constructed houses and public buildings.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250109070136_f861a5d7d63a10f1650c1cc5607bef14b7f40eb7adc074b122a44c5ed21d1fa6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250109070136_f861a5d7d63a10f1650c1cc5607bef14b7f40eb7adc074b122a44c5ed21d1fa6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1140" loading="lazy" alt="Dharara "> <figcaption>Ruins of Dharara tower after the 1934 earthquake. It was later reconstructed which again collapsed in 2015 earthquake killing many.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250109070136_9254062611371e577c9244d975b20f11d3be1033c243299dd719781330ffc2af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250109070136_9254062611371e577c9244d975b20f11d3be1033c243299dd719781330ffc2af" data-rendition-name="original" width="1380" height="965" loading="lazy" alt="Singha Durbar"> <figcaption>The gate of Singha Darbar after the 8.3M earthquake in 1934.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250109070132_b0373e847d616cadf465173b779a41ee49da008916acc46cf6d6e244a3f560c1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250109070132_b0373e847d616cadf465173b779a41ee49da008916acc46cf6d6e244a3f560c1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1993" loading="lazy" alt="Earthquake"> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state" target="_blank">Western Nepal</a> has seen a swarm of smaller quakes in the past year, and this could either be releasing some of the tectonic tension, or a warning of a big one to come. The National Earthquake Monitoring and Research Center recorded 10 earthquakes between 4.1-5.2M from 17 December to 3 January, most of them in western Nepal. “We need thousands of these minor tremors or hundreds of moderate 6M earthquakes a year to be able to release the stress that has accumulated beneath western Nepal,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/a-disaster-resilient-nepal-is-possible" target="_blank">Anil Pokhrel</a>, who heads the NDRRMA.&nbsp; Today, Nepal’s seismic risk is magnified by climate breakdown. Rising temperature is melting glaciers, and turning them into lakes dammed by fragile moraines. A megaquake in the Himalaya increases the risk of multiple Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) downstream. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">Nepal’s mountains are melting</a>, Alton C Byers A few hours before two small glacial lakes burst destroying the village of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya" target="_blank">Thame in August</a> last year, a 4.5M earthquake had struck nearby on the Tibetan Plateau. The Journal of Basic and Applied Geomorphology in February 2023 <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0169555X22004329" target="_blank">published a study</a> highlighting how earthquakes exacerbate climate-driven cascade processes of the glacial lakes failure in the Himalaya. ‘Global warming drives glacial retreat, and uncover loose sediment that can be mobilized as debris flows, triggering small glacial lake outbursts in high mountain regions. Sediment generated from earthquake-induced landslides exacerbates the flow magnitude in a valley to increase the disaster risk,’ the paper warns. Of the 47 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up" target="_blank">high-risk lakes</a> on glaciers that threaten Nepal, 25 are in China and feed tributaries of the Arun and Bhote Kosi that flow into Nepal. Pokhrel says he initially feared that the Xigatse earthquake on Tuesday would cause glacial lakes in Tibet to burst. He adds, “It is important to be prepared for cascading, complex disasters that combine the climate crisis with earthquakes, permafrost melting, GLOFs, landslides.” Pokhrel was in Thame in August, and says, “The two lakes that burst were the size of Olympic swimming pools and yet managed to wipe out half the village. We have lakes 600 times bigger which are now at a higher risk of bursting in an earthquake due to climate breakdown.”

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