<figure><img width="1400" height="933" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/6372218c9c7e80680e0c02c1jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: GOPEN RAI/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>A new study in Nepal has found that more female babies die after the third week of birth than male ones. Even though more male babies die in the first week after birth, the survey points to how gender discrimination may be disproportionately claiming the lives of girl children.The findings have larger implications for Nepal’s target to reduce the Neonatal Mortality Rate (NMR) to 12 deaths per 1,000 live births by 2030 as per the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). At present, the figure stands at 21. Neonatal mortality is the death of a child between 0- 28 days of birth. It can be categorised into early (0-7 days) and late neonatal death (7-28 days). NMR is an important indicator of maternal and newborn health, which shows a country’s quality of life. Generally, male children are at an approximately 20% greater risk of succumbing to neonatal mortality than girls. Several factors associated with higher neonatal mortality among male children include intrauterine growth restriction, respiratory distress syndrome, prematurity and birth asphyxia. Animal model studies have shown that testosterone suppresses the immune system, while oestradiol and progesterone in females improve immune responses which means they are better able to fight infections. Data from high-income countries reveal that it is true not only during the neonatal period, but later on in life as well. In low and middle-income countries males are at a higher risk of mortality in the early neonatal period but more females die in the late neonatal stage. But the specific age (days) where this reversal takes place was not previously known.Which is why <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/360724893_Does_higher_eArticle_Does_higher_early_neonatal_mortality_in_boys_reverse_over_the_neonatal_period_A_pooled_analysis_from_three_trials_of_Nepal#fullTextFileContent" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">we conducted a study</a> to examine sex differentials in neonatal mortality by detailed ages (0-1, 1-3, 3-7, 7-14,14-21 and 21-28 days). This is the first study to look at the sex differentials by such granular ages.We looked into data from three sequential, community-based randomised controlled trials (RCTs) in Sarlahi district of the southern plains of Nepal. The studies provide pregnancy cohorts from 1999 through 2017.Neonatal mortality was 41.9 (44.2 vs 39.7 in boys and girls), 30 (30.5 vs 29.6 in boys and girls) and 31.4 (33.4 vs 29.4 in boys and girls) in 1999, 2002 and 2010 studies respectively. A common finding in all three studies was that male mortality was higher in the early neonatal period (0-7days), but there was a reversal after the third week of life (21-28 days), where female mortality was higher. <figure><img width="1210" height="880" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221909c7e80680e0c02c2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Graphs: SEEMA SUBEDI</figcaption></figure><img width="1210" height="880" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221949c7e80680e0c02c3jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1210" height="880" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221969c7e80680e0c02c4jpeg.jpg" alt="">Data from the three studies were combined and analysed with average neonatal mortality coming to 31.6 (33.0 vs 30.2 in boys and girls). When we break this down to sex differentials in mortality by granular ages, male mortality was 1.17 times higher in the early neonatal period. However, this natural pattern was quickly reversed after the third week when female mortality was 2.43 times higher.This begs a question: why this reversal?Our paper does not examine the reasons, but studies in South Asia have found higher care-seeking behaviour for male neonates than females, particularly in households with older female siblings. Moreover, for male babies, care-seeking was more frequent with better-qualified care providers and higher expenditure compared to that of girls. Studies have also shown that households with female children were more likely to report discrimination because family members perceived that care for illness was not so important leading to reduced care-seeking.Nepal has been categorised to have a high level of son preference ever since the 1980s in World Fertility Surveys. Not much has changed since then as proven by a 2012 survey where 90% of 1,000 Nepali men aged 18-49 years said that a man with only daughters was unfortunate, and not having a son reflects a lack of moral virtue. Nearly half of them said that a woman’s important roles were limited to taking care of her home and cooking for her family. Nepal’s patrilineal and patrilocal social structure combined with socio-economic and religious values lead to son preference and gender discrimination. Traditionally, sons have been given certain cultural and economic roles such as the lighting of the funeral pyre, continuing the family lineage and providing old-age economic security for their parents. This places them above girls who are considered an economic liability because they have to be married off and with a dowry. And upon marriage, they become part of the economy of the husband’s family. Given the social norms, the baby survival differential may be explained by poorer nutrition, care and rest provided to mothers giving birth to daughters, son preference being the root cause of discrimination in the family. It could also point to specific parental behaviours that take place starting at that age (21-28 days of a child’s life).  <img width="1210" height="880" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221999c7e80680e0c02c5jpeg.jpg" alt="">However, the 3-week threshold could also just be an indication that the gender discrimination starts from birth or even earlier, but takes at least three weeks for the biological and natural survival advantage of females to be overcome by the social advantage of males.Neonatal mortality in Nepal has continued to decrease from 39 to 21 per 1,000 live births, with male neonatal mortality decreasing from 52 to 24 (reduction of 28 per 1,000) and female neonatal mortality from 43 to 17 (reduction of 26 per 1,000) from 2001 to 2016. Given that boys have a biological disadvantage in neonatal survival, one would have expected female neonatal mortality to decrease significantly over time. A reduction in female neonate mortality would also mean an overall decrease in neonatal mortality. But as it is, it is unlikely Nepal will meet its target of reducing NMR to 12 by 2030. Gender discrimination not only affects the quality of life of girls and women, but also reduces their survival in the neonatal period. A cross-national study from 138 countries also showed that higher the gender inequality index, higher the neonatal mortality of a country. Read more: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/Saving-one-mother-at-a-time,816">Saving one mother at a time</a>, Bikash GauchanAddressing gender discrimination by removing cultural and social barriers at the household level may help reduce overall neonatal mortality. Interventions to strengthen gender equality, such as counselling women and their families during antenatal and postnatal care visits may significantly improve female and male neonatal survival.Since the reversal takes place during the fourth week, specific interventions should be targeted in the first three weeks of a child’s life.Seema Subedi is Faculty Associate in the Global Disease Epidemiology and Control Division of the International Health Department at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health in Baltimore, USA.

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Fatal discrimination

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636bade89c7e80680e077fbdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1496" height="1146"/><figcaption>Min Bajracharya’s iconic photograph of Durga Thapa, 22, as she leapt up during a victory rally on 9 April 1990 to shout “Long live democracy!” All photos: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/one-moment-30-years-ago-today/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">People’s Movement in 1990</a> erupted because for three decades of partylessness, Nepalis could not let off steam and socio-political pressure had been building up.We got a constitutional monarchy, the parties were unbanned, the mass media was unshackled. And soon enough, we started using our newfound freedoms to complain about the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepal-from-royal-to-republic,3736" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">king and queen</a>. When the Maoists took the country to war, we complained about the violence.After the ceasefire of 2006, we were not happy about the restoration of peace – we started complaining about the political transition. Our constant moaning and groaning probably prolonged that transition.Then the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/27/a-month-that-felt-like-a-year/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">earthquake struck in 2015</a>, and even as the aftershocks rocked us, we whined about the relief being poorly distributed, and the slow pace of reconstruction. We then had the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/autopsy-of-a-blockade%20,2863" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Indian blockade</a> to complain about. And as soon as the 2017 election was over, we started criticising the very leaders we had just elected to power.We were about to run out of things to complain about when there was the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-new-normal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">COVID-19 pandemic</a>, and we could complain about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/reduce-harm/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the lockdown</a> and the corruption in the procurement of medical supplies and the government’s general incompetence.It is human nature. Like most people around the world, Nepalis are never happy with the state of affairs. In fact, we do not score very high in the Happiness Index. That itself is a positive thing because it means we know there is plenty of room for improvement. Things can always be better. That is the whole idea behind the need to see the world as half full.Remember the days when there were 16 hour power cuts every day? <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-electric-shock-to-nepals-energy-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Now that there is surplus power</a>, we are complaining that the electricity we generate is going waste. What to do with it? Where to sell it?There was a time in the 1980s when the proponents of the Himalayan Degradation Theory predicted that Nepal would be a desert by the turn of the century. Here we are four decades later, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal has doubled forest cover</a>. We have almost a quarter of our area designated as national parks, and 15% of Nepal is covered in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community-managed forests</a>.Enrollment in school is nearly 100%, infant and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">maternal mortality</a> have seen dramatic reductions. Absolute poverty has been halved in 25 years. The education we got and the remittance economy has exposed many Nepalis to jobs all around the world, and the quality of life for many have improved with the money sent home.Yet we complain that our youth are away. But that is also good because the end goal should be to create jobs for them at home.There are many products in the market that require energy to produce. If Nepal is to select a few of these and manufacture them near our many <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/decentralising-hydropower/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hydropower</a> plants, we could become productive and competitive.In Birganj, for example, there are truck loads of metal sheets coming in from India. They are rolled into pipes and poles, and sent back out. This is the value added for Nepal’s abundant, clean, reliable energy.Entrepreneurs will begin to look for energy production sites where goods can also be produced. We will then see how education will be valued in these areas because it means jobs at the local level. We will no longer have the debate about exporting energy, and sending Nepali youth abroad to prop up the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/remit-for-remittances/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">remittance based economy</a>. Local agriculture will have a local market. Nepalis will also understand the true meaning of Value Added Tax.We can use spilled hydropower at night to pump water for to irrigate farms and boost food production, and during the day use the water to generate power. This is the chance for an entrepreneur to set up a factory to manufacture rice cookers and electric kettles so we <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/look-whats-cooking-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reduce our reliance on imported LPG</a>.Nepal’s poverty related problems can be solved with political will. Nepal’s problems are simple and so are their solutions. Unfortunately, we like to complicate things so we can seek complicated solutions. It is almost as if we want to remain poor so we keep getting grants for poverty alleviation, so our experts and consultants have jobs. It is precisely because we have only complained and not implemented solutions over the past seven decades that we would rather export manpower than value-added good and services.Historically we have always described Nepal with what we do not have. For example, we do not have access to the sea. Or the terrain is not easy. These were always top reasons given for why we remain poor, rather than look at poor governance and mediocre leadership.More and more Nepalis now live in comfortable homes, drive fancy cars, send their children to the best schools. And yet we complain. Human progress is about not being content and wanting things to improve. There is so much to do as we move ahead whether you see the glass half empty, or half full. It is time to take the lead and move ahead.Anil Chitrakar is President of Siddharthinc. This is his last written column, he will now be hosting a fortnightly Anil’s Walkabout video program on the Nepali Times YouTube channel.

Anil Chitrakar

Stop complaining, start contributing

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

In December we headlined an analysis in this paper that the election was going to be a fight between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-2026-eyyt3itl">Old and New</a>. With just a month to go for polls, it is now looking more like New vs New.
The symbolic Balendra Shah vs K P Oli struggle has now been replaced by a face-off between Shah and Gagan Thapa, the new leader of the Nepali Congress (NC).
The Tarai with its vast vote bank has become the battleground for this fight with Shah contesting against Oli in Jhapa and Thapa standing in Sarlahi. And social media is the arena for this epic clash of personality cults.
Which means that instead of finding solutions to problems like health, education, jobs, inflation and social welfare, it is all about optics and stunts. AI-generated and algorithm-driven memes are influencing people’s choices.
“This is not democracy but a very morphed form of political consumerism where political men are selling their brand, and people are lapping that up,” says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal.&nbsp;
“Democracy is a way of life, it is not one size fits all, it doesn’t bully opposing voices, it is civilised, personable, tolerant.”
To be sure, Shah and Lamichhane claim to represent GenZ aspirations for cleaner and more efficient government, much like they did in 2022. But elections are expensive, and that is the root of corruption. Shah driving around Nepal in a flashy Defender SUV loaned by a noodle tycoon is proof to some that despite all the rhetoric of ‘new’ it is the same old crony-driven politics.
Author Mohan Mainali says party cadre used to mobilise voluntarily during campaigns, but Nepal’s elections have long stopped being about issues and ideology,
“But political parties lost their morality, and when their actions opposed their avowed principles, the spirit of elections was lost too,” Mainali says. “Cadre and crowds have to be rented, making elections more expensive, and it looks much worse this time around.”
Parties both old and new have moved so far away from what they promise in their manifestos, that it makes little sense to have them. All this means that this election is not so much about what the new candidates can do, but a protest vote against the tried, tested and failed legacy parties.
And that decision is made on the basis of ‘who’ rather than ‘what’. Who wins in Jhapa 5, for example, will determine the future course of Nepal. The winner there will eliminate one prime ministerial candidate, and then set up the possibility of a contest with Gagan Thapa.&nbsp;
“The real question is, can the RSP and NC, which have already declared their prime ministerial candidates muster majorities in Parliament?” Mainali muses. “In all likelihood no. The proportional representation vote is very important so people are tempted to vote based on who will be the next prime minister. But that is not how our system is supposed to work.”&nbsp;
Madhes Province has over 3.6 million voters, and more than half of Nepal’s population is in the Tarai. That can make or break the election for candidates. In the past parties have canvassed in the polls only to ignore the region once in power. And that goes for many Madhesi leaders themselves.
It was only after the 2015 federal republican Constitution that Madhes saw some representation, but it has been mostly sidelined in the GenZ protests.
In his analysis for the Annapurna Post this week, Birganj-based political commentator Chandrakishore writes that the Madhes should not just be a vote bank, but a political conscience for the nation.
‘Federalism has not favoured the Madhes, but it is the duty of the state. The parties that made the Constitution should tell us why federalism was weakened. The RSP should answer why it ignored the provincial structure in the past. The Madhes only wanted identity, representation, rights, and good governance,’ he wrote.
Indeed, it is ironic that the RSP that has been ambiguous on federalism, is now actively campaigning in the capital of federalism with Balendra Shah now capitalising on his plains ancestry — something he has not emphasised in the past.&nbsp;
“On one hand you say you want to remove provinces because there are too many positions which have become extremely costly for the state but you are also assuring your aides that there are plenty of positions to be doled out in the current federal structure,” says Sucheta Pyakuryal.
She adds: “You could forgo the ideology which we have done in Nepali politics for a long time now, you don’t even have to be a diehard socialist or liberal to enter the political arena but when even the lowest benchmarks such as basic decency and honesty are not met, how can you represent the people? We want representatives who look like us, sound like us, think like us, not brand names and saviours.”&nbsp;

New vs New in Nepal

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

The car’s trunk was crammed with boxes and suitcases, almost to the roof, and I was just waiting for the inevitable heart-wrenching screech or thud from underneath as I feathered on the accelerator, trying to cross through the infamous Daunne uphill section of the East-West Highway in an MPV.&nbsp; But to my surprise, the ground clearance of 170mm did not fail. Daunne, roughly 15km long, is the landslide prone ridge between Narayanghat and Butwal section, which is perennially affected by traffic jams, thanks to ongoing (and never ending) road expansion. Traffic jams here can be tens of kilometres long. On a November 2025 trip to Bhairawa it was dry enough to wade through the dreaded Daunne where the choice on the ‘road’ is either mud or dust (or both).&nbsp; The BYD M6 MPV EV borrowed for the journey claimed a range of 440km and 580L of space at the back in an almost 4.7m long form factor.&nbsp; On board were two family members and my five-year-old dog, Kulfi (pictured) who needed frequent stretch breaks for his paws. Stopping to charge the car was most certainly not on my to-do list. Within the first 20km from Koteswor, there were already multiple DC chargers along the roadside. They were fast chargers usually between 30 to 60kWs capacities, meaning a charge to 80% would take on average less than an hour. Nepal now boasts over 1,200 charging stations, each station is often equipped with multiple charging guns. This was a stark contrast to the harsh reality of charger anxiety I faced a couple of years in our family car, the Hyundai Kona. Back then, on the way back from Pokhara there was only a single charging gun at River Side Resort in Kurintar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2652" height="984" loading="lazy" alt="Page 5 map"> </figure>  These were only fast AC chargers of speeds up to 6kWs, unlike today’s much faster DC chargers. This meant the car would take multiple hours to hit the 80% mark -- and the charger would sometimes (shockingly, and without explanation) be out of operation. No one to ask questions, and no one to answer either. While I never needed to charge my EV on the way to Pokhara from Kathmandu, my precautionary nature never allowed me to climb into the Valley via Naubise without a charge. One bad accident, some sort of natural disaster, and you knew the roads would be clogged with traffic and shut down for at least a couple of hours.&nbsp; Fast forward to the present. My mind was at ease. Even if one of the charging stations was crowded, there was conveniently another one 15 minutes away. But the BYD M6 did not require any of that anyway.&nbsp; Not only did it traverse the rough highway from Kathmandu to Mugling, and then onward over the Daunne pass with ease but because the car was heavy and low, it handled high speeds and corners like a champ.&nbsp; Foot down on the accelerator and it climbed to triple digit speeds without breaking a sweat. Put your foot relatively harder on the brakes and it would equally shed its momentum, all the while being economical. After multiple quick stretch stops for Kulfi, and a proper one hour lunch break, I had arrived at Bhairawa before nightfall, still with around 100km of range left in the car and most importantly, with all the luggage intact.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Bye-bye range anxiety NT"> </figure>  ROUNDTRIP A week later, my return trip to Kathmandu saw an additional passenger and even more luggage – but once again, I arrived back in Kathmandu with ease: both the M6 and Nepal’s charger infrastructure had exceeded my expectations and needs.&nbsp; This 600km drive to and from Bhairawa from the mountains around Kathmandu to the Tarai plains, with not-so-smooth hilly terrain in between, highlighted not only how far electric vehicles have evolved but also showed how far the charging infrastructure (once a major irritant during the Covid years) had come.&nbsp; EVs in Nepal are no longer niche products; they are available across budgets and segments, ranging in form factor from micro city commuters and family hatchbacks to compact SUVs, pickups, and even full-size MPVs.&nbsp; One noticeable improvement on the highways is that the charging infrastructure has grown from a scattered and company-installed. NEA units along major routes have now converted into full-fledged, round-the-clock networks that allow flexibility and convenience to those of us who like to enjoy our times on the road.&nbsp; What once felt like a gamble, now feels like momentum — and the road ahead for electric mobility in Nepal looks smoother. &nbsp;&nbsp; Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on Youtube, Tiktok and IG and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

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Mass migration from Muktikot

Bye-bye range anxiety