<figure><img width="1310" height="834" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131156/636cf53b9c7e80680e09da16jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A gory battle scene from the Mahabharata depicted in a Nepali painting from the 1800s. Photo: harekrsna.com </figcaption></figure>Even eleven years after it was first published, The Difficulty of Being Good by Indian author <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gurcharan_Das" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gurcharan_Das&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624856018937000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFSPA3za-pll0LYf5joq4b13sXZ_A">Gurcharan Das</a> is more relevant than ever. Two-thousand years after it was written, so is the Mahabharata.For those who want to read the Mahabharata but are intimidated by the very thought, Das’ interpretation of the epic is well worth the time. Das does not just go to the holy city of Banaras, but to the Regenstein Library in Chicago with its fabulous collection of South Asian text, to explore the Hindu classic.  His ‘academic holiday’ of several years there resulted in this magnificent and riveting book. Das felt that places of learning in Banaras, the natural choice, would discourage him from ‘interrogating’ the text, but that the University of Chicago with its Sanskrit scholars like Sheldon Pollock and Wendy Doniger, would be more suitable. And indeed, the book proves that this was the right decision. The Mahabharata is made up of almost 100,000 couplets, and is seven times longer than Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey combined. But it is just as gory. Besides the length, the big difference with the Greek classics is that every time there is a showdown in the Mahabharata, amazingly, there is a battle-stopping discourse, and the warring parties weigh in and discuss moral pros and cons of the violence they are unleashing on each other. The Iliad, on the other hand, just gets on with the action. Like many religious texts, the Mahabharata also has its share of wacky stories. For example, the Kaurav brothers, who are fighting their Pandav cousins, create an impenetrable military formation called the ‘Chakra Vyuha’ on the twelfth day of the Mahabharata war to kill Pandav warriors like Yudhishthir. When Arjun, from the Pandav side, is fighting elsewhere in the battlefield, his son, Abhimanyu, successfully penetrates the military formation and stops the Kaurav’s menacing advance towards Yudhishthir. However (and this is the incredible part) Abhimanyu had learnt about how to enter the Chakra Vyuha when he was in his mother’s womb, as Arjun was describing it to her. Unfortunately, she fell asleep before Arjun could explain how to exit the treacherous mêlée.As a result, Abhimanyu did not hear about the exit strategy from this battle formation and so he is trapped and mercilessly killed by the Kaurav generals including Karna, Drona and Ashwastthama. Another riveting episode in the Mahabharata is Pandu, the father of the Pandav brothers. He is actually not their biological father because he has been cursed to die if he has coitus. Kunti, his wife, being a resourceful woman, utilises a gift from the ill-tempered sage Durvasha whereby she could invoke any god and have a child by him. And this she does.Gurcharan Das’s book shows us how the Mahabharata differs from other sacred texts, chiefly because rather than handing the reader a clear-cut cook book of instructions for the entry criteria to heaven, it bewilderingly asks more questions than it answers. Almost confirming that the ultimate truth may not even be available here on earth, it shows us that we can only have intimations of the truth -- a core belief in sophisticated Vedic thinking.   <figure><img width="640" height="437" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131156/636cf53e9c7e80680e09da17jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Mahabarata is also true to life with flawed characters populating the text, quite unusual for a holy book. For example, Yudishthir’s weakness for gambling, Duryodhan’s jealous streak, Karna’s status anxiety, Krishna’s guile  -- all add up to make it more human and readable.  In fact, as Das points out, the Mahabharata almost humanises the Kaurav (who are the bad guys) in an attempt to portray the good Pandav guys with empathy (Tat Tvam Asi), to kindle a universal moral sentiment. In contrast, the Ramayana, the other Hindu holy text from an earlier era has more black and white answers with an idealistic Ram and an evil Ravan.   The climax of the Mahabharata is when Yudhishthir is about to enter heaven. Indra, heaven’s gatekeeper, comes in his celestial chariot and requests Yudhishthir to please get in so they can ride into heaven together. The self-effacing Yudhishthir, looking a bit puzzled, asks Indra’s permission if they can also take in a stray dog who has been following him for a few days.  Indra initially declines, Yudhishthir pauses, looks around and says, “My Lord Indra, in that case I will forgo heaven.” This little episode with the dog was actually Indra’s test of compassion for Yudhishthir, which he passes with flying colours and he enters heaven with the stray. Das posits that the editors of the Mahabharata may have been influenced by the Buddhist concept of 'karunamaya', or compassion, as the book was written much later (between 400 BC – 300 AD) than the actual Mahabharata war in Kurukshetra (950 BC). In fact, the author asks a very important question: what would have been the outcome at Kurukshetra if Arjun’s charioteer had been Gautam Buddha instead of the clever Krishna? The Difficulty of Being Good is replete with graphic, lyrical, and evocative prose, as this passage by Das illustrates:  In the summer, I returned to India to visit my mother. On the way, the train stopped at a very sleepy station, about a hundred miles north of Delhi. I stepped on to the platform and discovered that this was no ordinary station: it was historic Kurukshetra where the Mahabharata’s futile war of annihilation had been fought. In the burning heat of the summer afternoon, I began to imagine the brutal magnificence of the raging, ruthless battles. I saw a dithering Arjun, the greatest warrior of his age put down his Gandiva bow and refuse to fight -- leaving his debonair and confident charioteer, Krishna, who is also God, with a problem on his hands. I visualised ruthless Drona grinding the exhausted Pandav armies into the dust. Suddenly he turns anxiously to his pupil, Yudhishthir to ask if the rumour about his son’s death is true. Yudhishthir -- who has never spoken false -- tells a white lie and his fabulous chariot, which always traveled slightly above the ground, sinks into the dust.  In a sense, this is a book review of The Difficulty of Being Good, which itself is a book review of the Mahabharata 2,000 years after it was written.  As we put down the book, it is hard to erase the image of Arjun folding his hands in front of the flamboyant Krishna, refusing to fight, while the ruthless Drona and remorseful Yudhishthir are carrying on a conversation in the heat of battle.  Buddha Basnyat is a physician at the Patan Institute of Health Sciences. Disclaimer: Gurcharan Das is his phuaju, uncle.The Difficulty of Being Good: On the Subtle Art of DharmaPenguin Paperback, 2012 ₹ 499.00by <a href="https://www.amazon.in/Gurcharan-Das/e/B001HD010S/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.in/Gurcharan-Das/e/B001HD010S/ref%3Ddp_byline_cont_book_1&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624856018938000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHo1HTL86FzCkDyhd98zvMw0xvEKw">Gurcharan Das</a><a href="http://https://www.amazon.in/Difficulty-Being-Good-Subtle-Dharma/dp/0143418971"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131156/636cf5419c7e80680e09da18jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="313"></a>

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Being good is not easy

<figure><img width="1310" height="834" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94819c7e80680e06f207jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A gory battle scene from the Mahabharata depicted in a Nepali painting from the 1800s. Photo: harekrsna.com </figcaption></figure>Even eleven years after it was first published, The Difficulty of Being Good by Indian author <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gurcharan_Das" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gurcharan_Das&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624856018937000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFSPA3za-pll0LYf5joq4b13sXZ_A">Gurcharan Das</a> is more relevant than ever. Two-thousand years after it was written, so is the Mahabharata.For those who want to read the Mahabharata but are intimidated by the very thought, Das’ interpretation of the epic is well worth the time. Das does not just go to the holy city of Banaras, but to the Regenstein Library in Chicago with its fabulous collection of South Asian text, to explore the Hindu classic.  His ‘academic holiday’ of several years there resulted in this magnificent and riveting book. Das felt that places of learning in Banaras, the natural choice, would discourage him from ‘interrogating’ the text, but that the University of Chicago with its Sanskrit scholars like Sheldon Pollock and Wendy Doniger, would be more suitable. And indeed, the book proves that this was the right decision. The Mahabharata is made up of almost 100,000 couplets, and is seven times longer than Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey combined. But it is just as gory. Besides the length, the big difference with the Greek classics is that every time there is a showdown in the Mahabharata, amazingly, there is a battle-stopping discourse, and the warring parties weigh in and discuss moral pros and cons of the violence they are unleashing on each other. The Iliad, on the other hand, just gets on with the action. Like many religious texts, the Mahabharata also has its share of wacky stories. For example, the Kaurav brothers, who are fighting their Pandav cousins, create an impenetrable military formation called the ‘Chakra Vyuha’ on the twelfth day of the Mahabharata war to kill Pandav warriors like Yudhishthir. When Arjun, from the Pandav side, is fighting elsewhere in the battlefield, his son, Abhimanyu, successfully penetrates the military formation and stops the Kaurav’s menacing advance towards Yudhishthir. However (and this is the incredible part) Abhimanyu had learnt about how to enter the Chakra Vyuha when he was in his mother’s womb, as Arjun was describing it to her. Unfortunately, she fell asleep before Arjun could explain how to exit the treacherous mêlée.As a result, Abhimanyu did not hear about the exit strategy from this battle formation and so he is trapped and mercilessly killed by the Kaurav generals including Karna, Drona and Ashwastthama. Another riveting episode in the Mahabharata is Pandu, the father of the Pandav brothers. He is actually not their biological father because he has been cursed to die if he has coitus. Kunti, his wife, being a resourceful woman, utilises a gift from the ill-tempered sage Durvasha whereby she could invoke any god and have a child by him. And this she does.Gurcharan Das’s book shows us how the Mahabharata differs from other sacred texts, chiefly because rather than handing the reader a clear-cut cook book of instructions for the entry criteria to heaven, it bewilderingly asks more questions than it answers. Almost confirming that the ultimate truth may not even be available here on earth, it shows us that we can only have intimations of the truth -- a core belief in sophisticated Vedic thinking.   <figure><img width="640" height="437" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94849c7e80680e06f208jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Mahabarata is also true to life with flawed characters populating the text, quite unusual for a holy book. For example, Yudishthir’s weakness for gambling, Duryodhan’s jealous streak, Karna’s status anxiety, Krishna’s guile  -- all add up to make it more human and readable.  In fact, as Das points out, the Mahabharata almost humanises the Kaurav (who are the bad guys) in an attempt to portray the good Pandav guys with empathy (Tat Tvam Asi), to kindle a universal moral sentiment. In contrast, the Ramayana, the other Hindu holy text from an earlier era has more black and white answers with an idealistic Ram and an evil Ravan.   The climax of the Mahabharata is when Yudhishthir is about to enter heaven. Indra, heaven’s gatekeeper, comes in his celestial chariot and requests Yudhishthir to please get in so they can ride into heaven together. The self-effacing Yudhishthir, looking a bit puzzled, asks Indra’s permission if they can also take in a stray dog who has been following him for a few days.  Indra initially declines, Yudhishthir pauses, looks around and says, “My Lord Indra, in that case I will forgo heaven.” This little episode with the dog was actually Indra’s test of compassion for Yudhishthir, which he passes with flying colours and he enters heaven with the stray. Das posits that the editors of the Mahabharata may have been influenced by the Buddhist concept of 'karunamaya', or compassion, as the book was written much later (between 400 BC – 300 AD) than the actual Mahabharata war in Kurukshetra (950 BC). In fact, the author asks a very important question: what would have been the outcome at Kurukshetra if Arjun’s charioteer had been Gautam Buddha instead of the clever Krishna? The Difficulty of Being Good is replete with graphic, lyrical, and evocative prose, as this passage by Das illustrates:  In the summer, I returned to India to visit my mother. On the way, the train stopped at a very sleepy station, about a hundred miles north of Delhi. I stepped on to the platform and discovered that this was no ordinary station: it was historic Kurukshetra where the Mahabharata’s futile war of annihilation had been fought. In the burning heat of the summer afternoon, I began to imagine the brutal magnificence of the raging, ruthless battles. I saw a dithering Arjun, the greatest warrior of his age put down his Gandiva bow and refuse to fight -- leaving his debonair and confident charioteer, Krishna, who is also God, with a problem on his hands. I visualised ruthless Drona grinding the exhausted Pandav armies into the dust. Suddenly he turns anxiously to his pupil, Yudhishthir to ask if the rumour about his son’s death is true. Yudhishthir -- who has never spoken false -- tells a white lie and his fabulous chariot, which always traveled slightly above the ground, sinks into the dust.  In a sense, this is a book review of The Difficulty of Being Good, which itself is a book review of the Mahabharata 2,000 years after it was written.  As we put down the book, it is hard to erase the image of Arjun folding his hands in front of the flamboyant Krishna, refusing to fight, while the ruthless Drona and remorseful Yudhishthir are carrying on a conversation in the heat of battle.  Buddha Basnyat is a physician at the Patan Institute of Health Sciences. Disclaimer: Gurcharan Das is his phuaju, uncle.The Difficulty of Being Good: On the Subtle Art of DharmaPenguin Paperback, 2012 ₹ 499.00by <a href="https://www.amazon.in/Gurcharan-Das/e/B001HD010S/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.in/Gurcharan-Das/e/B001HD010S/ref%3Ddp_byline_cont_book_1&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624856018938000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHo1HTL86FzCkDyhd98zvMw0xvEKw">Gurcharan Das</a><a href="http://https://www.amazon.in/Difficulty-Being-Good-Subtle-Dharma/dp/0143418971"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94889c7e80680e06f209jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="313"></a>

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8839c7e80680e0737e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Parijat night jasmine flowers for which, it is believed, lord of heaven Indra descended upon Kathmandu. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Indra Jatra, or Yenya, commemorates the descent of a god from heaven dressed in peasant's clothes and bent on a very human pursuit: stealing flowers.The deity concerned was no ordinary god. He was Indra, the Lord of Heaven. When he descended on Kathmandu wrapped in a concealing cloud, no one recognised him. So much so, that when he was discovered gathering parijat night jasmine flowers, people caught and bound him hand and foot like a common thief.For reasons best known to himself, Indra refused to reveal his identity and none suspected it even though his celestial elephant began searching the streets of Kathmandu for him. In heaven, Indra's mother, who had required the parijat flowers for the observance of a festival, grew so anxious at her son's disappearance that she also descended on Kathmandu and lost no time in letting it be known who she and her son were.Great was the people's rejoicing and, presumably, their embarrassment. King and commoner alike celebrated their amazing good fortune with feasts and processions, song and dance. And when their divine guests were about to depart they asked a boon of Indra's mother.Would she take with her to heaven the souls of all those who had died that year? This she readily granted, besides bestowing a gift of her own -- a gentle morning mist that would blanket the Kathmandu Valley during the autumn and winter months to ripen the harvest. Farmers are still apt to call it the gift of milk.As for the souls of the dead, she advised that they form a chain behind her holding on to each other, with the first taking a firm grip on her sari. Away they went like the tail of a great kite. They hadn't travelled far, when something as unfortunate as spiritual vertigo or fatigue caused the chain break and all the souls fell into a lake atop a mountain south of Kathmandu, where bereaved families went to worship and honour them.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8869c7e80680e0737e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1108" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Today, Kathmandu celebrates Indra Jatra which, fused together with the festival of the living goddess Kumari, and the epic of the Nepali King Yalambar who was slain by Krishna at the battle of the Mahabharata, is Nepal's most colourful celebration. Everyone, from the king, the royal family, ministers, government servants, the general public-even foreign diplomats, are involved.For this is the time of the year when the king receives the blessings of the Kumari who places tika on his forehead. Superstition, well supported by strange circumstance or coincidence, enhances the belief that the Kumari, in fact, bestows upon the king the right to rule for another year. When, on occasion, she has mistakenly placed tika on the wrong forehead dire consequences have resulted.This too is the time when all the valley's Bhairab masks are displayed, particularly the great silver mask that Yalambar wore to battle, and the even larger, bejewelled golden mask of the white Bhairab in the old palace.All over the valley, in city, town and village are strange erections of wood, like wayside crucifixions, to which are tied masked dummies representing the captive Indra. Numerous images of other gods are brought out to watch the festival, for nobody, not even the hosts of heaven, would like to miss so wondrous an event.Hung from a tall pole in the old palace square of Kathmandu is a colourful banner representing the flag presented to Indra by Vishnu. As long as it is there it means that the lord of heaven is in Kathmandu, bestowing upon the city and the country, his blessings and protection. At the foot of the pole is a small cage, both confining and enshrining an image of Indra and a golden elephant, his traditional mount. They represent the god's captivity, so many long legends ago.The pole itself is invested with significance. Some days before the festival begins, a government appointed priest and a select group of men from Kathmandu make for a pine forest not far from Bhaktapur. There, following ancient ritual and on-the-spot portents, they select a tree, offer prayer and blood sacrifice and after felling it, drag it in procession to the potters' village of Thimi.Men of Thimi bear it to Kathmandu's Tundikhel from where it is finally taken to the old palace square in Kathmandu by men of the city. There follows a blessing by the royal priest, who comes accompanied by soldiers in the olden uniforms of King Prithvi Narayan's Gorkha army carrying muskets and swords, and marching to a military band out of history. As the pole is raised into position, cannons boom and music plays.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqG_okS_wPIWhen the festival is done, the great pole is taken in procession to the river Bagmati where it is immersed, cut into pieces to feed the perpetual flame that burns at yet another Bhairab shrine on the river bank. So much for the living, for whom the Indra and Kumari jatras are carnivals of numerous attractions: dances representing the demons Lakhe and Dagini, enactments of the mortal incarnations of Vishnu, folk dramas, processions of masked 'deities,' a dancing elephant made of bamboo, painted cloth and human legs, and the massive trundle of the Kumari's rath, followed by lesser chariots of the living Ganesh and Bhairab, virgin boys selected in much the same way as the Kumari. And there is the king who can be seen more closely and more relaxed than at any other official occasion.For the dear departed are processions of lights and symbolic processions of men and women, holding onto each other in the way the spirits of old held hopefully to the sari of Indra's heaven-bound mother. There are prayers and fasts and feasts, and finally every bereaved family sends at least one member to the mountain top lake where the spirits once fell.For those who like a more scholarly reason for festivals such as this, it is thought that the warrior king, whose Aryan forces overpowered India, inevitably turned his attention to the Himalaya. Perhaps the warlike hill people nagged his flanks. Leading an army against them, he was captured and held prisoner until he promised some boon of settlement. The great Nepali king Yalambar ruled Nepal at the time. No one less than a god, and the Lord of Heaven at that, could have fought and come to terms with him: an interesting thought as festival chariots toll through Kathmandu.An artist, writer, and designer, Desmond Doig moved from Calcutta to Kathmandu in the 1970s, and made the Valley his home. He died in Pokhara in 1984. Nepali Times has serialised chapters from his book, In the Kingdom of the Gods, from which this piece is extracted.

The legend behind the myth of Indra Jatra

https://youtu.be/aG3NqSX0Sk8Woodcraft embellish Kathmandu Valley’s traditional architecture, adorning columns, eaves, windows and door frames with meticulously carved figures of gods and goddesses. Historically, these anonymous works of devotional art were carved by generations of the Shilpakar clan, whose surname was derived from their ancestral profession.Indra Prasad Shilpakar is from a long line of the woodcarvers from Bhaktapur who has decided to give new life to the craft by using traditional motifs, but adding artistic license with new elements. He has separated these pieces from architecture and created them as freestanding structures of art, modifying some background designs and poses of the gods.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ebb9c7e80680e04fcd0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ebe9c7e80680e04fcd1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853">"Woodcarving on temples are strictly defined by rules that follow the storyline of the scriptures,” Shilpakar explained during a walk around his ongoing solo exhibition at the Taragaon Museum this week. “But outside of the architectural frame, I try to experiment.”Shilpakar has a degree in fine art from Tribhuvan University and he says the background in  contemporary art helps him try out new aesthetics so that traditional woodcarvings can also be viewed separately as individual pieces of art.In his day job these day, Shilpakar works in the restoration of Patan’s Bhai Dega temple which was destroyed in the 1934 earthquake. There he tries to replicate missing pieces of the temple based on old photographs and damaged pieces. After work, he is back at his basement workshop in Bhaktapur where with his father Indra Kaji Shilpakar he works on traditional carvings.Indra Kaji is not too enthusiastic about his son trying out new styles and selling them in galleries. He says: “Work in exhibitions ultimately end up in private collections, and only a few people will see them. On the other hand, when your carving adorns a temple everyone sees them, and it spans generations.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ec19c7e80680e04fcd2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ec59c7e80680e04fcd3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"></figure>Artist Indra Prasad Shilpakar (right) with his father Indra Kaji ShilpakarNonetheless, the younger Shilpakar says it is difficult to make a living making traditional wood carvings for temples, whereas experimenting with modern forms of traditional art and exhibiting them in galleries can earn the artist extra money.Shilpakar's Taragaon exhibition that ended on Tuesday depicted the best of woodcarving found in temples: windows with intricate patterns of flowers, deities like the Buddha, Ganesh, and Matrika, animals like crocodiles and Garuda, a pair of singing Gandharva and dancing Kinnara.Even more modern renditions of traditional wood carvings are strewn around Shilpakar’s workshop in Bhaktapur. Senior Shilpakar and his son share a passion for traditional woodcraft, and have designed their home keeping true to their Newa heritage. Carved wooden pillars line the ground floor, a traditional wooden staircase leads to the second floor which has intricately-carved wooden windows.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ec89c7e80680e04fcd4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"></figure>Photos: Monica DeupalaThe attic kitchen has a high, triangular roof supported by wooden balustrades, and the balcony outside is lined with woodwork. The walls have a museum feel with displays of mallets, chisels, gouges and skews in various sizes that were used by their ancestors. "We wanted our house itself to reflect and preserve traditions," says the younger Shilpakar.Indra Prasad Shilpakar feels his family’s ancestral work is still seen as a lowly occupation, and he wants to be recognised as a creative artist as well. He says: "It is sad that we don’t know the names of the masters who created the exquisite carvings on our temples. They were never known as artists. But here in this gallery I am known as an artist in my own right.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ecb9c7e80680e04fcd5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4000" height="3000">Wood Carving: The Art of the Newars of Nepal Solo exhibition of wood art by Indra Prasad ShilpakarTaragaon Museum, 1-9 July

In with the old, in with the new

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

Early on Monday morning, a bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu plunged off the highway in Dhading killing 19 passengers. Two weeks ago, another bus fell into the Tama Kosi in Manthali, killing 12. A few days before that a bus crash in Baitadi killed 13 people.&nbsp; In just the month before Nepal's election, more than 50 people have been killed in road traffic accidents. Most of these cannot be called 'accidents'. They are a direct result of poorly maintained highways and lack of enforcement of traffic discipline. Political parties in Nepal have rolled out their election manifestos, and voters are once again presented with a flood of promises. Page after page, these documents list megawatts and microcredit, highways and airports, jobs and investment. In these manifestos, growth is quantified, projects itemised, revenue forecast — and there are even threats to beat up contractors who do not finish their jobs. But when everything is declared a priority the stale promises are empty. The voter is left confused as to where the party’s loyalties really lie. Will any of these plans and pledges actually ever materialise and help Nepalis live longer, safer, healthier lives? The main job of any accountable government is to protect its citizens, not so much from foreign enemies but from domestic mismanagement. And this means the most basic test the new government should be made to pass is whether it can ensure basic well-being and protection for all its people. The problems of safety, health, and survival remain unresolved for most Nepalis, and are quietly eroding their lives. In the past year alone, the country’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">roads and highways claimed more than 2,300</a> lives. An estimated 41,000 Nepalis die each year directly because of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous">air pollution</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/air-pollution-killing-season-starts-early">lifespans are lessened by 3.4 years</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health">Non-communicable diseases</a> now account for well over half of total deaths in the country. And even where survival has improved, deprivation remains. Chronic malnutrition continues to haunt communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mass-migration-from-muktikot">Nepal’s western mountains</a> despite progress in maternal and child health.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  These are the lived realities of most Nepalis, and it is here that development can deliver its most immediate returns. A rising GDP, in and of itself, does not make roads safer, clean polluted air, or provide enough nutrition to children. Such outcomes demand intentional, granular policies that confront the specific, everyday problems shaping people’s lives.&nbsp; Macroeconomic growth, trade and investment are important, but these alone cannot guarantee improvements health and safety. The word ‘growth’, after all, is also synonymous with malignancy. Economic progress and human protection are correlated only when governance deliberately links them. Impact on life is the unit in which ordinary Nepalis calculate progress. What is needed, then, is a governing philosophy measurable in these same terms: a ‘life-first’ standard where every policy, budget, and reform can be understood and judged by its impact on protecting and extending human life. Such a ‘life-first’ approach would scrutinise three aspects of every policy. First, whether the policy prevents loss of life. A death is termed preventable if better, more coordinated response systems and regulations could have avoided it (vaccines, drugs, road safety, clean drinking water). A newly built six-lane highway <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/highway-accidents-are-no-accident-in-nepal">can be a death trap</a> due to poor design or lax enforcement of safety rules. If neonatal deaths continue in a district despite hospitals being present, or if malnutrition claims lives in predominantly agricultural regions, they too are failures. Preventable deaths also cluster where accountability is less direct. Just last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicides-a-pandemic-within-a-pandemic">Nepal recorded 6,866 suicides</a>, with nearly 20 lives lost every day, yet these deaths fail to prompt any serious examination of governance. The same holds for fatalities linked to domestic or communal violence, alcohol and substance misuse, or ‘natural’ disasters, which register as ‘tragedies without remedy’ rather than as outcomes policy can influence. But when avoidable loss of life recurs at scale, isolated incidents become patterns, and patterns reveal systemic neglect. Saving lives, however, is only the first step, and what matters just as much is the quality of years lived. Nepal’s life expectancy now stands at 71 years, yet many citizens spend years in avoidable disability, untreated chronic illness, or mental distress. A life- first government must ask not only whether people live, but whether they thrive. Are citizens able to pursue education, work, and family life without fear of preventable harm? Do communities have access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and basic healthcare? Can a teenager anywhere in Nepal imagine a future not foreclosed by premature marriage, or untreated depression?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940" data-rendition-name="original" width="2529" height="1427" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  Thriving requires policies that prevent suffering and promote well-being in addition to ensuring survival.&nbsp; Finally, governance must consider graceful aging. Elderly Nepalis should not be left to navigate disease, poverty, or isolation alone. Social systems, healthcare, and community support must enable their continued participation and dignified well-being. Adopting this three-layered standard would gradually reorient how success of any new government is defined. Transportation would be judged by fatalities reduced on the roads. Electricity generation would be measured by whether households can switch from firewood dependence to smoke-free electric stoves.&nbsp; Increase in annual rice harvest must translate into better nutrition, reducing the prevalence of chronic diseases like diabetes. Accountability must follow problems rather than stop at Singha Darbar. Only then will politicians and bureaucrats eventually recognise that their work converges on the same human endpoint. Critics will argue that economies are complex, trade-offs are inevitable, and that governance cannot be reduced to a single metric.But, as Acemoglu and Robinson show in their book <a href="https://ia801506.us.archive.org/27/items/WhyNationsFailTheOriginsODaronAcemoglu/Why-Nations-Fail_-The-Origins-o-Daron-Acemoglu.pdf">Why Nations Fail</a>, the key difference between prosperity and poverty lies in inclusive institutions that empower citizens and create broad incentives for well-being.&nbsp; Extractive institutions concentrate power and wealth in the hands of a few while keeping the majority trapped in neglect. Nepal’s governance has remained a striking example of extraction. If lawmakers in the new Parliament continue to resist changes that would save and improve the lives of ordinary citizens, the same systemic rot will persist for generations to come. A life-first mentality can cut through this inertia by clarifying the moral centre of governance and reminding policymakers that behind every policy failure lies human cost. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-hunger">Every mother in Bajura</a> with a child going hungry at night, every farmer in the Madhes unable to afford medical care, and every family that has lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">a migrant son to kidney failure</a> understands the true <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating">value of a life saved</a>. Life is the one metric that transcends ideology, ethnicity, and region. Centering governance on this single, focused metric, can shift an election from a contest of rhetoric to a contest of evidence. Which party ensured access to safe water and basic healthcare? Which made work at home and abroad safer and less exploitative. Which measurably extended healthy years of life for ordinary citizens? Health is wealth. By improving the healthy lifespan of citizens economic prosperity would follow naturally. A ‘life-first’ governance model would therefore compel Nepal to address the underlying structural failures across all sectors, rather than merely alleviating their symptoms. The GenZ protest that toppled the government last September was, at its core, a demand for accountability and a rejection of politics as usual. But as the country edges closer to the polls, that clarity has started to dissipate. Parties are now echoing the language of reform, but the public discourse remains dominated by promises that feel disconnected from Nepal’s most immediate and basic priorities. Every preventable death, every hungry child, and every neglected elder becomes a direct failure of governance and a moral debt the state must answer for. It is how we can make sure we keep the next government in check. The writers are Nepali GenZ students of biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Nepal’s life or death election

Who is accountable for teacher-student relationships?

Party flags and banners wave from electric poles, houses and e-rickshaws are festooned with posters. Madhes Province is in the grip of election fever, and in a tour through four of its districts, there is the sense that any efforts by mainstream political parties at reforms have come too little too late. Among the banners, the sky blue of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/new-vs-new-in-nepal"> RSP is more prominent </a>here this time, and the rallying cry across the country for new and improved leadership is echoed on the ground. “For the people around here, whatever these old leaders are saying has become just noise,” says a lassi shop operator in Janakpur, waving a dismissive hand at flags with the NC’s tree symbol across the street. In Janakpur, UML nominee Raghubir Mahaseth was barred from canvassing door-to-door. Campaign posters of the mainstream parties have been torn from walls and replaced with RSP posters.&nbsp; In Inarwari village of Rautahat in the Madhes heartland, local elected officials whose parties have been merged into the Nepali Communist Party hope to retain enough supporters this election. But not many residents say they would vote for its candidate. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SHRISTI KARKI</figcaption> </figure>  A first-time voter in Sarlahi’s Haripur is home on a semester break from medical school in Kathmandu, and is waiting excitedly for 5 March. “You can’t really say out loud whom you’re voting for around here,” he says, as he mimes ringing a bell. “It is time for someone new to be in-charge." In the highway town of Bardibas, an elderly teashop owner says that all she hears are calls for घण्टी, the RSP’s bell symbol. “After all, bells are rung in the house of gods,” she says. “It seems like the right choice.” The RSP wave sweeping the nation after the GenZ movement is seen in Madhes, and the PR ballots might reflect that, notes political analyst Tula Narayan Shah.&nbsp; “But the socio-cultural networks, organisational setup, and legacy of democratic movement of traditional parties might still give them a fighting chance on the first past the post ballot,” he says. &nbsp;“The door-to-door campaign style of candidates has always been more prominent in Madhes than elsewhere.”&nbsp; Villages like Dhankaul in Sarlahi-4 where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grand-split-in-nepal-s-grand-old-party">Gagan Thapa</a> of the Nepali Congress (NC) is running against incumbent Amresh Singh, is an NC stronghold. Singh won the election here twice before in 2013 and 2017 when he was an NC leader, and still had goodwill among NC voters when he ran and won as an independent during the 2022 election. “I voted for him twice before when he was in the NC, but he did not do anything for this or other villages. Once he is elected, he has not set foot here,” says Rajiv Yadav, a voter in Dhanakul. “The RSP will get more votes here than last time, but Gagan is sure to win. This village will vote for him.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  Madhes is in the spotlight this election because two prime ministerial candidates have focused their attention in the region. Balen Shah began his campaign in Janakpur (main picture, left) in January as a ‘Son of Madhes’, and Gagan Thapa chose Sarlahi-4 as his constituency over Kathmandu-4, from where he has been elected since 2013.&nbsp; The Madhes has always been the battleground for Nepal’s electoral politics, and candidates from here, like Krishna Prasad Bhattarai from Parsa, Pushpa Kamal Dahal from Siraha, Jhala Nath Khanal from Sarlahi, and Madhav Kumar Nepal from Rautahat, have all been prime ministers. Despite electing politicians to high office in Kathmandu, districts of Madhes have consistently ranked low in development and service delivery indicators, especially in basic healthcare and education. Socio-economic inequalities stemming from a lack of opportunities has also meant that Madhes districts have the highest rate of out-migration in the country.&nbsp; What is different this time is that the people of the province have a Madhesi prime ministerial candidate who will represent them in national politics, and the main competition ultimately will be between the NC and RSP prime ministerial candidates. Interestingly, voters seem to be looking beyond Madhes-based parties who have historically campaigned on identity and federalism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  “Leaders of Madhes parties have glorified their struggle for votes but failed to perform on good governance at local and provincial levels,” explains Tula Narayan Shah. “Now, Balen has become a PM candidate as a face of the region, and as someone who will deliver based on his work as Kathmandu mayor.” If the RSP wins, it will be governing in the absence of provincial leadership that would play a crucial mediatory role between Kathmandu and local units. On Wednesday, RSP’s Madhes province chair Mamta Sharma resigned from the party and joined the NC. There is also some underlying tension between RSP cadre loyal to Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane. “It is not prudent to predict who will win the election and whether parties will deliver on promises,” says Tula Narayan Shah. “But win or lose, there is little basis at this time to believe that the RSP will be committed to making the federal system and provinces more functional.” Voters here in the heart of the federalism movement, however, are willing to give the RSP the benefit of the doubt. &nbsp;Resident Brahma Dev in Janakpur told us: &nbsp;“The RSP, like parties that came before them, deserve a chance to prove their leadership in the next five years. If they do not deliver, we can always vote them out next time.”&nbsp; On Wednesday, NC leaders unveiled the party’s 10-point election manifesto at a large rally in Janakpur (main picture, right). Gagan Thapa began by addressing a cheering crowd in Maithili, and said the NC was reformed, adding:&nbsp; “The GenZ did not reject us, they told us to change our ways.” Also on Wednesday 800km away at the other end of the country in Dhangadi, Balen Shah, in a speech that lasted just three minutes, he said: “Don’t vote for us, give us work to do.”&nbsp;