Bihar shares a 600km open border with Nepal. Right along the Tarai, there are linguistic, cultural and family ties binding the two sides together. In some places the border cuts right through households and farmlands.
Unlike what happened in Uttar Pradesh where the BJP was soundly defeated in the 2024 elections by the INDIA alliance, in Bihar’s election this month the National Democratic Alliance (NDA) that brought the BJP together with the Janata Dal (United) secured 200 of the 243 seats in the state assembly.
In Nepal, we make fun of politicians who want to become prime minister for the sixth time. But Nitish Kumar took his oath of office last week for the tenth time as chief minister in 20 years.
Also unlike Uttar Pradesh, the vote was not polarised along religious lines, signalling a deep transformation of Bihari society and the rising political consciousness of its voters.
The most important change must be the massive participation of women voters. Women did not merely make this election decisive, but altered its very character. A polyphonic social configuration emerged from this election that has broken away from entrenched caste-based vote banks of the past.
In 2006 during his previous tenure as chief minister, Nitish Kumar gave half the representation in local political units to women. Many people ridiculed it at first because there was a tendency for male politicians to bring in their wives to fill the quota.
Even if a woman won, in practice the husband called the shots. But over time competent women leaders emerged at the grassroots.&nbsp;
Just before this election, the Chief Minister Women Employment Campaign provided INR10,000 as the first instalment to 12 million potential women entrepreneurs. Once they start their own enterprises they get INR210,000.&nbsp;
Bicycles were distributed to girl students to improve their mobility, and sense of independence. Such schemes are helping to increase women’s leadership and self-reliance. Bihar’s youth and women are driving change.
Nitish Kumar also used federal investment to improve roads, bridges, electricity supply and irrigation across Bihar (“बिज्ली, सडक, पानी”). The transformation is dramatic for those of us who remember the time when roads on the Indian side of the border were much worse than the highways in Nepal.
CRONY POLITICS
Most of this change is in Patna and the main cities, but nearly 90% of Biharis live in villages. And despite these visible changes, Nitish Kumar has failed to bring about an improvement in the quality of education and healthcare. He has also used patronage with cronies to ensure his political longevity.
With 140 million people, Bihar makes up one-tenth of India’s population. But it is still the poorest state in India with an annual per capita income of $900 — one fourth of the country’s national average. Its main industry, just like in Nepal, is the export of manual labour to richer states in India and to the Gulf.
Bihar has had a chronic problem with kidnapping, and this affects Nepal because many criminals seek refuge on our side of the border.
There is a long tradition of rewarding not only corrupt politicians but also their criminal cronies. The criminalisation of politics and politicisation of crime has sustained Bihar’s economy.&nbsp;
The direct impact of this has always been on the state’s development. As <a href="http://xn--bihars%20economy%20has%20two%20special%20characteristics-xn09a.xn--%20first,%20bihars%20development%20is%20halted%20and,%20despite%20having%20potential,%20it%20lags%20other%20states-wn37e.%20second,%20one%20aspect%20of%20its%20backwardness%20is%20also%20that%20the%20people%20of%20bihar%20have%20lost%20hope%20that%20their%20state%20can%20rise%20in%20comparison%20with%20others%20-%20something%20the%20nitish%20kumar%20leadership%20has%20not%20been%20able%20to%20revive%20in%20the%20last%20twenty%20years.xn--%20here,%20the%20political%20business%20of%20sushashan%20(good%20governance)%20has%20flourished%20a%20lot,%20yet%20it%20remains%20trapped%20in%20the%20same%20fate%20of%20ruktapur-w459iof./" target="_blank">Shekhar Gupta of The Print</a> wrote this month in his column National Interest, one in ten Indians is ‘living a sub-sub-Saharan Africa quality of life’.
A culture of looting has been institutionalised, and the word ‘dacoit’ has entered the English lexicon. Nitish Kumar did crack down on crime, but the kidnapping mafia simply moved to a safer and more lucrative business to become contractors.&nbsp;
Large infrastructure projects are built with federal grants, but the budget is skimmed with politicians and their cronies dividing up the spoils. This must sound familiar to us in Nepal.
Bihar’s economy has grown, but it started out at a low base and the other states of India, especially in the south, have grown much faster — so the gap is widening. The very word ‘Bihar’ within India is synonymous with ‘poverty’ and ‘backwardness’.
This is ironic because Bihar is also where democracy was born, where Gandhi launched his satyagraha against the exploitation of indigo workers, where politicians like Jayaprakash Narayan made upliftment of the poorest his agenda.&nbsp;
The Buddha may have been born in Lumbini, but he preached and attained enlightenment in Bihar. Maoist Naxalites rose up against oppression by zamindars in rural Bihar.&nbsp;
Biharis are obsessed with politics, and the mediasphere is full of opinion and debate about various parties and candidates. But somehow politics has not delivered development.
Bihar’s economy has two special characteristics that are similar to Nepal. First, despite huge potential in terms of natural and human resources and the demographic dividend, development has lagged behind.
Second, Biharis, especially the youth, have lost hope that their state can rise up and catch up with the rest of India. The fact that a ten-time chief minister is back after being 20 years in politics provides even less prospect.&nbsp;
Although Bihar's railway network has seen progress, it lacks severely in its management and the joke there is that trains stop even at non-scheduled stations if passengers demand. Such stations even have a name: रुक्तापुर.
The train of Bihar’s development also keeps making unscheduled stops at रुक्तापुर.
Chandrakishore is a Birganj-based political commentator who writes this column BORDERLINES in Nepali Times. @kishore_chandra

Chandra Kishore

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Bihar’s elections and Nepal

India and China have a long-standing border dispute along their Himalayan border which has erupted in violent skirmishes. But Indian and Chinese officials last week agreed to ignore Nepal’s own border dispute with India to facilitate trade. The Indian Ministry of External Affairs this week flatly rubbished <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/territorialism">Nepal’s territorial claims</a> to the Lipulek Pass and the Kalapani Region, including Limpiyadhura, which Nepal considers as the source of the Mahakali River that forms Nepal’s western border with India. The latest episode in this dispute has come as Sino-Indian relations have thawed after US President Donald Trump slapped <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-and-the-us-india-tariff-tiff">sanctions on Indian exports</a>. The joint communiqué in Beijing said India and China had agreed to resume their border trade through the Nathu La, Sipki La and Lipulek during Chinese foreign minister Wang Yi’s visit to New Delhi. Lipulek is a pass 10 km north-east of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/there-is-precedent-to-settling-kalapani">Kalapani</a> which has been disputed ever since the Survey of India published its 1879 map, where the source of the Mahakali was suddenly shifted from Limpiyadhura to Lipulek.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250826060824_4e68dd5964e0995b91148de9978a1de52b19691e1b01f52a405924fd130c22bd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250826060824_4e68dd5964e0995b91148de9978a1de52b19691e1b01f52a405924fd130c22bd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="2083" loading="lazy" alt="Lipulek dispute explainer"> </figure>  This tributary of the Mahakali was called the Kali on this map, and is a fordable tributary and not the main channel of the border river. The main Kali River was renamed Kuti Yangdi, and this happened while the British were still in India presumably to gain access to the Lipulek in contravention of the 1816 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/borderline-disorder">Sugauli Treaty</a>.&nbsp; This subterfuge continued even after India gained independence in 1947. Nepal has maintained that the main channel of the Kali is the border as per the 1816 treaty, when Nepal lost a third of its territory to British India. It is all well and good that India and China are now friendly enough to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19447">open border trade</a> routes, but it should not be in violation of Nepal’s territorial integrity. Nepal should be called for diplomatic and political negotiations regarding the Lipulek pass and the Kalapani region comprising Limpiyadhura.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/when-xi-meets-modi-and-oli">When Xi meets Modi and Oli</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit China and India, but especially the latter, should invite Nepal to discuss these issues and iron out the disputes based on facts and evidence and maps. Nepal had sent seven diplomatic notes to India and three to China so far regarding the Lipulek and Kalapani. India has not responded to any of them. China replied once saying that Nepal and India should sort out their border disputes first before voicing their opinions. Nepal welcomes the recent talks between India and China that it hopes will positively impact on settling border disputes that are mostly stalled since the 1962 Sino-Indian war, the 73-day military standoff over the disputed Doklam region between China and Bhutan, and the 2020 Galwan clash in Ladakh. Nepal’s two large neighbours seem to have come to their senses and realised that it is in their interest to collaborate rather than confront each other when President <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/trump-s-first-month">Trump is acting erratically</a> with threats of sanctions and tariffs.&nbsp; Prime Minister K P Oli should bring up Nepal’s grave concerns about the Lipulek during his state visit to India next month when he will meet Prime Minister Narendra Modi in Bodh Gaya. The two are also expected to meet next week at the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit in Tianjin when Chinese President Xi Jinping will also be present. But even before that Nepal should send diplomatic notes to both the Indian and the Chinese governments regarding their agreement to resume border trade through the Lipulek.&nbsp; Here is a timeline of the developments regarding the Lipulek: Sino-Indian Agreement of 1954 This 8-year Agreement on Trade and Exchange between Tibet and India was signed in Peking on 29 April, 1954 by the Chinese Vice-Foreign Minister Chang Han Fu and the Indian Ambassador Nedyam Raghavan.&nbsp; There was no explicit mention on the border settlements either on the Line of Actual Control (LAC) or on Ladakh, although trade and pilgrimage through Lipulek and other 5 passes (Sipki La, Mana Pass, Niti Pass, Kungri Bingri Pass and Dharma Pass) were agreed upon.&nbsp; Trade between Uttar Pradesh state and the Tibet Autonomous Region was through ‘border &nbsp;point of the agreement states: ‘With a view to facilitating the visits of persons engaged in border trade and the exchange of commodities and means of transportation, (India and China) have decided that Lipulek (Qiangla) be the border pass for the entrance and exit of the said persons, commodities and means of transportation from the two sides.’ The agreement expired on 6 June 1962 during the Sino-Indian war, and the two sides did not renew it. Bilateral ties started to normalise only in the 1990s with the Indian decision in 1988 to abandon its policy of settling ‘territorial issue’ for ‘normalisation of relations’. India There was no reaction from Nepal to the 1954 agreement since Nepal did not have diplomatic relations with China yet at the time. Sino-Indian Agreement of 2005 The Political Parameters and the Guiding Principles for the Settlement of the Sino-Indian Boundary Question is detailed in 11 Articles, which outline the steps to be taken for a Peaceful and Tranquil Border. The agreement was a direct outcome of the Special Representatives mechanism that had been set up through a 2003 agreement. It also incorporated the Confidence Building Measures in Military Field along the Line of Actual Control (LAC) in the Sino-Indian Border Areas signed in 1996.&nbsp; A protocol on Modalities for the Implementation of Confidence Building Measures in the Military Field along the Line of Actual Control in the India-China Border Areas signed during Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao’s India visit, which stated in Clause 2 of Article 5: ‘Both sides agree to extend in principle to expand the mechanism of border meeting points to include Kibithu Dhamal in the Eastern Sector and Lipulek Pass (Qing La) in the Middle Sector. The precise locations of these border meeting points will be decided upon mutual consultations.’ Nepal’s Foreign Ministry issued a statement in 2005 stating that Nepal had asked China about the issue and the Chinese Embassy clarified that the agreement had nothing to do with Kalapani. This was perhaps the first time that Nepal had objected to the Sino-Indian agreement on Lipulek. King Gyanendra had staged a coup d’état on 1 February 2005, just two months prior to this agreement. The Nepali press voiced criticism of China in particular for disregarding the country’s sentiment.&nbsp; Sino-Indian Agreement of 2015 India and China signed several documents during the state visit of Chinese President XI Jinping to India on 18 September 2011. Number one on the list was: ’Opening a New Route for Indian Pilgrimage (Kailash Mansarovar Yatra) to the Tibet Autonomous Region of the People’s Republic of China’.&nbsp; The Indian foreign ministry stated: ‘The MoU provides for conducting the annual Kailash Mansarovar Yatra through Nathula Pass in Sikkim in addition to the existing Lipulek Pass in Uttarakhand’. On May 15, 2015, China and India issued a Joint Statement during Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s visit to China. Point 28 under the ‘Trans-border Cooperation’, states that the two sides agreed to ‘hold negotiation on augmenting the list of trades commodities, and expand border trade at Nathu La, Quingla/Lipulek Pass and Sipki La Pass’. Nepal’s objection to the 2015 agreement was stronger than in 2005. Prime Minister Sushil Koirala called up Narendra Modi to express Nepal’s displeasure It was not until 2020 that Nepal’s Foreign Minister disclosed that ‘Nepal had expressed its disagreement in 2015 through separate diplomatic notes addressed to the governments of both India and China … including Lipulek Pass as a bilateral trade route without Nepal’s consent.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250826060824_d4497e2620bba81211d27e427393974877e09006abc26e13055508996e5b29ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250826060824_d4497e2620bba81211d27e427393974877e09006abc26e13055508996e5b29ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1108" height="1550" loading="lazy" alt="Lipulek dispute explainer"> </figure>  The new political map of India published by the Survey of India in November 2019 that incorporated areas east of the Kali River including Kalapani as Indian territory sparked renewed public, and political, attention to the Mahakali dispute. The Nepal government then countered by formally approving the publication of the new Political and Administrative Map of Nepal including all territories lying to the east of the Mahakali River on May 18, 2020. In June, the House of Representatives unanimously endorsed the second amendment to the Constitution of Nepal to update the country’s new political map in the national emblem. Sino-Indian Consensus of 2024 A 6-point Consensus on Peace and Tranquility on the Line of Actual Control (LAC) was agreed on December 18, 2024 between the Special Representative of the People’s Republic of China, Wang Yi, and the Special Representative of the Republic of India, Ajit Doval.&nbsp; India has not denied that this is a consensus, while China made it clear that this was not a Joint Statement. This Consensus is in line with the 2005 agreement, and was agreed during the 23rd round of the Special Representatives talks held after a gap of five years aimed at restoring bilateral ties frozen because of the military standoff in Ladakh. The agreement included: cross-border communication and cooperation, promoting the resumption of pilgrimages by Indians to Xizang, cooperation on crossborder rivers, and trade at the Nathu La Pass. Nepal made no reaction to the statement despite Lipulek being the pilgrimage route for Mansarovar and Kailash.&nbsp; Prabhakar Sharma is a construction engineer and an international border expert who has worked as a survey engineer for the Cameroon-Nigeria border demarcation by the United Nations.

Lipulek dispute explainer

The two sides of Punjab in India and Pakistan may be 2,000km away, but the war between two <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/south-asia-2040-qxr16oup">South Asian neighbours </a>sent aftershocks here to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/nepal-india-trans-boundary-bonds">India-Nepal border</a>.&nbsp; Among the 26 tourists killed by terrorists in Pahalgam on 22 April was a Nepali from Butwal on a holiday with his family, and Nepali nationals enlisted in the Indian Army could be see action in case of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/peacemongers-at-india-pakistan-border">conflict between India and Pakistan</a>.&nbsp; The open border between India and Nepal is usually relaxed with people going back and forth without much checking, but after hostilities broke out last week, controls by India’s Border Security Force of documents and inspections of vehicles has been stepped up. About 15km east of Birganj is the frontier village of Ghodasahan. On the Nepal side, the settlement is under the Bisrampur Rural Municipality in Bara District and on the other side it is in East Champaran of India’s Bihar state. There are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/20-years-ago-this-week/secularism-debate">Hindus and Muslims </a>on both sides of the national boundary that slices through the village. The increased security on both sides of the border is starting to affect the daily life of villagers who had been used to going back and forth without any hindrance. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nukes-in-the-neighbourhood">Nukes in the neighbourhood</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160520_7202b268e053118ed783c740918389ace533bf47576c0bda787eecb6f71af5b9.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250511160520_7202b268e053118ed783c740918389ace533bf47576c0bda787eecb6f71af5b9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2230" height="1534" loading="lazy" alt="No man's land"> </figure>  “We know who the locals are, but if there are people who we don’t know and they look different, we interrogate them,” one Nepali security official said, adding that local people also inform the police if they see any strangers. Right along the 1,700km <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/people-to-people-at-india-nepal-border">Nepal-India border</a>, there are many townships like Ghodasahan which have the same name on both sides of the border. In some places, the border divides <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/home-is-where-the-heart-is">homes and households</a>, in others one side of the road is in Nepal and the other side is in India.&nbsp; In most of these villages, the local people have come to accept the presence of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/job-insecurity-in-security-forces?%2F">security forces </a>on both sides. Some farms are divided by the border, and villagers are used to border guards inspecting harvests being brought across. The India-Nepal border is also a hotbed of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/smuggled-chimps-wait-it-out-in-kathmandu?%2F">smuggling</a>, so police inspections are normal, but the heightened tension between India and Pakistan have made such checks stricter. Also in Bara district is the village of Gulariya which also stretches on both sides of the border. Seventy-year-old Satan Bhagat’s house is on the other side of no-man’s land in India but his livestock shed is in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160520_4b4057c9f03b82e4f634fc071929b2847897b13982e2dc08eaaa48c6feb9f906.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250511160520_4b4057c9f03b82e4f634fc071929b2847897b13982e2dc08eaaa48c6feb9f906" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1204" loading="lazy" alt="No man's land NT"> <figcaption>Satan Bhagat</figcaption> </figure>  With new requirements for citizenship on both sides, and stricter enforcement of those with dual citizenship, families are having to decide whether they are Nepali or Indian. “We don’t want war, we want peace,” said one villager, apprehensive of the spillover effect of the India-Pakistan conflict. “In the 1971 war we followed what was happening on the radio, but now we know minute-by-minute what is happening <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/surveying-nepal-s-digital-landscape">on our mobiles.</a>”&nbsp; The open Nepal-India border is a model for other parts of the world, where frontier controls are getting tighter and populist anti-migration parties are winning elections. The rhyming slogan in Hindi here has been ‘बोर्डर बनेंगे अमन के निशान, दोनों &nbsp;मित्र नेपाल - हिंदुस्तान’ (Nepal-India Border: A Symbol of Peace).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160520_7607dcca541c23093c11c3b3a5e1380d27401d458d2ce28a24c18a6b609df1fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250511160520_7607dcca541c23093c11c3b3a5e1380d27401d458d2ce28a24c18a6b609df1fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1204" loading="lazy" alt="No man's land NT"> <figcaption>The village of Gulariya in Bara district also stretches on both sides of the Nepal-India border.</figcaption> </figure>  But slogans only go far when policies about these<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7594"> borderlands </a>are made in faraway national capitals in New Delhi and Kathmandu. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/messaging-is-the-message">The media </a>also has a role in making border controls only about security and crime, and not about how much it helps local people on both sides. The reason there are calls for stricter border control is due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-geopolitics-of-nepal-s-politics">geopolitics</a>, and this concern has been enhanced by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/indo-pak-tension-hits-saarc-climate-action">the India-Pakistan conflict</a>. But this is not just about safeguarding India’s security interests, but also about Nepal being vigilant and taking advantage of its open border.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160524_d31874e0dad74299d3849a37690e050690604a03f0320b79f1816ea3bb039679.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250511160524_d31874e0dad74299d3849a37690e050690604a03f0320b79f1816ea3bb039679" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1204" loading="lazy" alt="No man's land NT"> <figcaption>Naser Ahmed</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/the-world-9-11-made">Terrorism </a>cannot be defined as ‘moderate’ or ‘radical’. Terror has no morals. It cannot be justified by arguments for or against. Terrorism has no respect for innocent human life — whether it is structural violence of the state, or militant counter-violence. Pahalgam was proof that terrorism is not an accident. It does not happen in a vacuum. When geopolitical rivalry is involved, it complicates matters further as a tit-for-tat in which <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/remembering-not-to-forget-the-peoples-war">innocent civilians are cruelly caught in the crossfire</a>.&nbsp; As Naser Ahmed on the Nepal side of the border village of Ghodasahan says: “The open border may not be open forever, we have to work to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/justice-delayed-justice-denied-byrx8a1c">safeguard peace </a>on both sides of no-man’s land.”

No-man’s land

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

A new normal

This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

Things eventually work out

The <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DQtSOT6ilFC/?img_index=1">post on Instagram </a>has an image of Sudan Gurung. Over the top is the message: ‘We wont let this year’s election happen if Gen Z’s demands are Ignored’. The account’s bio is ‘Uniting Nepalese Through Independent Investigative Research.’ Post like these have become a template for the information ecosystem in the aftermath of the GenZ revolt in September. Social media feeds are saturated with content that uses multimodality of captions, video, audio, to convey alarm and warnings about how GenZ aspirations are being subverted. Research by MIT showed that on X false news reaches 1,500 people six times faster than the truth. Fake news goes ‘farther, faster, deeper, and more broadly than the truth’, researchers concluded. Narratives compete on platforms, and users gravitate to the shock-value of the news and not to factual precision or nuance.&nbsp; “On social media misinformation easily mutates into disinformation,” says media literacy trainer Deepak Adhikari. “The news we see on social media are often out of context, with little information that misinforms more than inform.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251203121236_6daaeaf8ed255fda4a431d0419d9ae1a0908259af14529835034ce48653064a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251203121236_6daaeaf8ed255fda4a431d0419d9ae1a0908259af14529835034ce48653064a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Doomscrolling democracy NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251203121232_8a7a41b8bd1892137d1dd97fd1c1408d2879ff96fa69a4d6d5acff7239869d4b.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251203121232_8a7a41b8bd1892137d1dd97fd1c1408d2879ff96fa69a4d6d5acff7239869d4b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1601" height="340" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ instagram"> </figure>  Indeed, today’s ‘Post-Truth Society’ is characterised by a media environment where users give more credibility to their pre-existing beliefs and emotion rather than objective facts or subjective nuance. Post-Truth does not refer to what comes after the truth, but rather a cultural or information environment where pre-held personal beliefs shape public opinion, not facts.&nbsp; Rumour, bias and propaganda have always been a part of the informationsphere, but what makes it different today is the velocity at which falsehood spreads. The news cycle is short, and before content can be verified the damage is already done.&nbsp; Adhikari says that pre- and post-publication fact checking can be a potential antidote. However, when a video with misleading content goes viral, and even after fact-checkers catch up to correct it, the fear-mongering, anger or hate has already spread.&nbsp; In Nepal’s social media, apparently everyone is tarred as guilty, or funded by a foreign government. Calls to dismantle federalism, restore the monarchy, or teach political leaders a lesson by supporting authoritarian alternatives are no longer fringe ideas discussed in private. They circulate routinely in the algorithmic streams legitimised not by evidence but sentiment. When misinformation becomes the default, nostalgia for a mythical prosperous past begins to look like a rational response. While these positions are not new, their algorithmic amplification gives them perceived legitimacy that makes it hard to estimate, or far exceed, their actual political support. “We have not highlighted the achievements of our multiparty democratic system, and the new generation has not experienced authoritarianism,” Adhikari explains. “Therefore statements like federalism is expensive and the monarchy was better have taken up space, because the evidence of the counter narrative is underreported.” There is a positive side to social media. The GenZ movement took on momentum, and the protestors organised and supported each other through the very platforms that are now full of content that can potentially derail the democracy they wanted to strengthen. Just like it was trendy to be revolutionary during the protests, it is now trendy to be skeptical and to distrust the very people who were installed in the interim government through online voting. Such is the architecture of social media: it rewards immediate reaction over reflection, and due to its interface design, it not only shows what could be relevant ‘for you’ but also tells you what others are thinking about that. The role of the mainstream press as the traditional gatekeeper of information has been superseded by the digital sphere — both in access and sharing. This poses new challenges because social media content may not be news, and just because a page claims to be a news site that does not mean it is journalism. Social media feeds are not chronological newspapers but an algorithmic marketplace. TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube all rely on recommender systems, now powered by AI to keep users on their platforms for as long as possible. The feeds then collapse the distinction between credible news, speculation, parody, and deliberate disinformation, especially in a politically volatile environment.&nbsp; Everything appears in the same vertical stream, formatted with similar fonts, voiceovers, and music, making a platter of content that they know you are most likely to consume. For Nepali users, this has created personalised and parallel political realities. Two people living in the same household may open TikTok and encounter completely different idea of the problems and solutions of Nepal. One is fed content in favour of elections in March, while another pushes conspiracy theories about anti-GenZ activities aided and abetted by foreign powers. None of these feeds reflect the whole picture. Each reflects what the algorithm has learnt will capture user attention. Academics have long found that social media sites do thousands of A B testing to silently optimise which colors, captions, or video formats users respond to most intensely.&nbsp; Tests help design the most addictive feeds. Interface interference allows platforms to limit discoverability of certain features such as the ‘Logout’ and ‘Privacy’ settings so the system remembers users preference for the next time they are scrolling the platform. When faced with such infocalypse, we have the option to withdraw and not engage with our feeds or our phones. But billions of dollars have been spent by Big Tech to keep us hooked. We need more structural revisions that integrate the need of a safer online environment. Media and digital literacy must be woven into both formal education and public institutions. It cannot be an optional topic or a workshop for a select few.&nbsp; Students must learn how algorithms work, how misinformation spreads, and how to verify information before sharing it. Adults need community-level programs that help them navigate the online world that now shapes politics.&nbsp; Content creators also must be held accountable. Profiles posing as news sites must also be brought under the same scrutiny as the mainstream press. Directives for social media journalism, a section in the Press Council’s Journalism Code of Conduct can be introduced as provisions that foster transparency and ethical journalism practices on social media. Creators should pledge to verify facts, cite sources, and clearly label opinion or commentary. While this will not entirely curb disinformation, it can be the first step towards a digital public sphere that can host democratic dialogue with nuance and facts.&nbsp; Says Adhikari: “Journalism doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and our knowledge space, academia, think tanks, research centres, archives, are scaffolding to support journalism, and we must make them stronger. The role of journalism can be to humanise the news and journalists can be storytellers, but the responsibility of the information ecosystem does not rely on journalists alone.” Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Doomscrolling democracy

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