Like many Nepalis, Surendra Dhami left his home village in Darchula for Malaysia in the hope of improving his family’s quality of life.&nbsp; He returned in a few months because the work and pay were not what he had been promised by the recruiter. But there were no jobs in Darchula, and farming in the rugged arid mountains would not feed his family. So, like many other mountain farmers Dhami, 36, migrated with his family down to the Tarai to settle in the village of Gharkheda in Kailali’s Chure Rural Municipality. It was a good move. He sold 10,000kg of oranges last year, and Surendra and his wife Bhaka have diversified into vegetables.&nbsp; “So far, we can make a living with our farming. At least, it is better than in Darchula,” says 30-year-old Bhaka Dhami.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240404110448_465a967ef1604772e7cc00f1decb97323b77f28d10834d785ac472a1fdb1359f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240404110448_465a967ef1604772e7cc00f1decb97323b77f28d10834d785ac472a1fdb1359f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Families that farm together stay together Page 9 NT #1206"> <figcaption>Surendra and Bhaka Dhami</figcaption> </figure>  Neighbour Krishna Devi Kandel and her husband Devendra have involved all five of their children in their farm. The orange trees are not doing well because of infestation, and the failure of winter rains affected crops.&nbsp; “We do not have irrigation and do not get as much rain as we used to,” says Devendra. Chure village is full of families who have moved down from Darchula, Baitadi and other mountain districts to the north. But even here, erratic rains due to the climate crisis have impacted farming.&nbsp; Diversifying crops is the best way to cope, which is what Pabitra Sapkota has also done. After her orange trees died, she has moved to vegetables.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240404110448_938c7c0c69d85899ecbd2a77e1acaa9b318eba2d0072f2f033e1dda057e21ab5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240404110448_938c7c0c69d85899ecbd2a77e1acaa9b318eba2d0072f2f033e1dda057e21ab5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Families that farm together stay together Page 9 NT #1206"> <figcaption>Pabitra Sapkota</figcaption> </figure>  “The tomatoes that my son planted in this greenhouse are nearly ripe,” she says, clutching a lush bunch of mustard greens. &nbsp; The Chure range in western Nepal rises to elevations of 2,500m, unlike in the east where it is less than 500m. It is the youngest, lowest and weakest of the folds that form the Himalayan range, and the first ridges to rise up from the plains. The Chure covers nearly 13% of Nepal’s area, and runs through 37 of the 77 districts from Jhapa in the east to Kanchanpur in the west. It is a fragile range, where deforestation has led to frequent landslides and floods.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240404110448_5e15ae431ab995109fdeac871bae4e769d0c979bc67a02fc2785d6098229fe53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240404110448_5e15ae431ab995109fdeac871bae4e769d0c979bc67a02fc2785d6098229fe53" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Families that farm together stay together Page 9 NT #1206"> <figcaption>Aftermath of a flood</figcaption> </figure>  “The Chure watershed is deteriorating and there are frequent droughts, further declining farm productivity,” explains Sushmita Dhakal of the President Chure Terai-Madhes Conservation Development Board set up in 2014.&nbsp; One way recent migrants from the mountains to Chure are adapting to the crisis is through family farming, without hired labour for better food security, nutrition and to protect the environment. The United Nations declared 2019-2028 a Decade of Family Farming to preserve traditional agriculture, increase the involvement of youth, recognise women’s leadership, promote sustainable agriculture and improve livelihoods. In doing so, family farming also protects households from the climate crisis by &nbsp;diversifying crops. It is also an antidote to water-intensive commercial farming with its use of chemical fertilisers and pesticides. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240404110448_94b4e92d15a772e0f6e538221aba1f60a610d95e2580daf26fffda20fc8aef9c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240404110448_94b4e92d15a772e0f6e538221aba1f60a610d95e2580daf26fffda20fc8aef9c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Families that farm together stay together Page 9 NT #1206"> <figcaption>Devendra and Krishna Devi Kandel</figcaption> </figure>  At one point, more than 80% of Nepal’s population depended on agriculture, and most were family farms. But the figure has come down to 62%. Agriculture now contributes only 25% to the GDP. Agronomists say that family farming can reverse the decline by making agriculture profitable again. Vegetable farmers of Lisbeli village prove that: their products have a ready market in the towns of western Nepal.&nbsp; Dammari Bhatta works on her vegetable patch with her family and does not hire anyone else. The cabbages, cauliflowers and tomatoes are enough to feed her family all year around, and she sells the surplus to pay for the education of her children.&nbsp; Her husband Madanraj Bhatta leads the Lisbeli Farmers’ Group which sold 1,700kgs of cabbage and 700kgs of tomato this winter.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240404110448_a74b7748e4f0ede7eb6f8a76c5fe786d9801738c70325a3aaae84ba1c5cd1c00.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240404110448_a74b7748e4f0ede7eb6f8a76c5fe786d9801738c70325a3aaae84ba1c5cd1c00" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Families that farm together stay together Page 9 NT #1206"> <figcaption>Dammari and Madanraj Bhatta</figcaption> </figure>  None of the 30 families here in Lisbeli use chemical fertilisers, and apply organic manure instead. This in turn has reduced pest infestation and diseases in the crops all the while restoring soil quality. &nbsp; “Home fertiliser has increased harvest, and made the soil more fertile,” says Manju Jagriti, an ex-teacher, now a full time farmer. “The whole family farms, and we do everything together,” says Manju proudly. Family farming is nothing new in Nepal, it has been the traditional method of agriculture. But many families moved away as commercial farming using agrochemicals took over. Now, families are moving back to the old method of growing food.&nbsp; Says agriculture scientist Binayak Bhandari: “We need to go back to our old sustainable farming ways, protect the environment and find the fine balance between nature and livelihood, especially to adapt to the climate crisis.”

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Who builds Kathmandu?

Malaysia is slashing foreign worker intake from end-May, conflicts in West Asia <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/the-international-order-is-dying-in-gaza">risk engulfing the region</a>, and fortress Europe is building higher walls for migrants. 
All this means that Nepal’s economy, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/remittances-up-and-up">almost completely dependent on money its workers send home</a>, is as fragile as a house built on sand. Proof of that was the Covid pandemic, which impacted overseas jobs and remittance inflows. 
Malaysia has now capped foreign workers to only 15% of its 17 million strong workforce, and this will mean there will be much fewer jobs for Nepalis in its palm and rubber plantations, construction, manufacturing and service sectors.
Malaysia has instructed companies that no work visas will be issued after May. One saving grace is that the restrictions do not apply to foreign security guards, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/close-encounter-with-death">most of whom are Nepalis</a>.
Malaysia’s curb on foreign workers appears to be related to domestic unemployment, as well as an EU decision to phase out the import of palm oil as a renewable biofuel because of rainforest destruction. Malaysia is the world’s second-largest producer of palm oil after Indonesia.
There are an estimated 500,000 Nepalis in Malaysia, some of them undocumented workers. Of the 771,000 Nepalis who got labour permits from the Department of Foreign Employment in the last fiscal year, 259,000 went to Malaysia. 
“The fact that a major labour destination country like Malaysia is reducing the number of Nepali workers is not good news,” says labour migration expert Ganesh Gurung. “It will seriously impact on remittance inflows and the economy. It does not seem like the Nepal government has any concrete plans to deal with this issue.”
Rajendra Bhandari, President of the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA) agrees that Malaysia’s decision is concerning, especially as the demand for foreign workers in Gulf countries is also decreasing. He adds that unless the Nepal government finds alternatives, the number of Nepalis going abroad illegally and ending up doing dangerous work will increase. This is evidenced by the increasing number of Nepalis<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-play-russian-roulette-in-distant-war"> killed in action while fighting for the Russian Army</a> on the Ukrainian front.
Yet even as Foreign Minister Narayan Kaji Shrestha is demanding that Russia send Nepali soldiers home, Labour Minister Dol Prasad Aryal, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/skeletons-in-the-cabinet-k5x6py1v">who is alleged to be involved in recruitment and remittance agencies</a>, reopened labour permits for Russia on Wednesday.
The value of Nepal’s exports is only one-tenth of its imports, and the country pays for imports with remittance income. Latest Nepal Rastra Bank figures show that the country earned $6.35 billion in the last six months of this fiscal year, and foreign exchange reserves hit a record $13.9 billion. 
Ganesh Gurung says that even though Malaysia’s decision might have seemed abrupt, such overwhelming dependence on remittances has always been a risky path for Nepal. Money the diaspora transfers to relatives in Nepal makes up an equivalent of 25% of Nepal’s GDP – one of the highest ratios in the world.
There are an estimated 2 million Nepalis in the Persian Gulf region, and a change in foreign labour policy or a regionwide conflict could jeopardise their jobs and in turn, impact the national economy. 
“This overwhelming reliance on foreign employment has meant that Nepal’s rulers have not been able to implement policy and incentives to create jobs domestically,” says Gurung. “It is inevitable that jobs overseas will dwindle eventually.”
With Malaysia closing, and earnings in the Gulf countries being less than what was promised by recruiters, Nepalis are increasingly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/europe-now-favoured-destination-for-nepalis" target="_blank">looking to Europe</a> as an alternative. But while Europe needs cheap foreign labour, it is also becoming more restrictive.
Croatia was a favourite springboard for Nepalis seeking to go to Western Europe, but it joined the Schengen area last year. There are now an estimated 15,000 Nepalis in Romania, and more hope to make it there before the country also joins Schengen on 31 March. 
NAFEA’s Rajendra Bhandari says the hurdles are not just from Schengen states in Europe, but also from the Nepal government. Those seeking work in Europe need a work demand letter from a European country that is verified by a Nepal embassy in that country. But most European countries do not have resident embassies. 
“If the demand letters could be verified in Nepal itself, it would open the door for a lot of Nepali workers to go to Europe,” says Bhandari, adding that although the Labour Ministry is open to the idea, the Foreign Ministry does not think so.
Unlike migrant workers who go to other Asian countries to earn money, send remittance back home, and eventually return, Gurung says, most Nepalis who go to Europe more often than not settle there permanently. 
Overseas migration has been seen as a safety valve for Nepalis, but there are many thousands of domestic migrant workers at construction sites all over Kathmandu. 
Ensuring a basic minimum wage and labour protection for them would open up more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive">meaningful employment</a> within Nepal in semi-skilled jobs, many of which are being given to migrants from India.
Says Gurung: “Continuing to depend on other countries to give Nepalis jobs, instead of providing jobs in Nepal for Nepalis, will mean trouble for us down the line.”

People's Movement

Nepal may have defused the population bomb, but its cities and towns are bursting at the seams. Federalism was supposed to improve rural living standards through more accountable governance. Failure to achieve this has accelerated rural outmigration. The 2021 census showed that Nepal’s population declined by 10% in the last decade. The total fertility rate has fallen below the 2.1% replacement level, and that could be a problem in the future. But for now, it is the continuous emptying of mountain districts that is assuming crisis proportions. None of the three levels of government seem to have internalised the gravity of this situation, let alone devised a strategy to reverse the trend. Most internal migration is to the Tarai, which already has 54% of Nepal’s population. Another 21% lives just in Bagmati Province which includes Kathmandu Valley. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/letter-from-sikles">Letter from Sikles</a>, Kunda Dixit  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240301040316_c0efbe7eef4538830300b6aca776239a92c54c16fcb81cb28ac5f17380dadfff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240301040316_c0efbe7eef4538830300b6aca776239a92c54c16fcb81cb28ac5f17380dadfff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1937" height="1140" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis are voting with their feet NT"></figure>  One-third of Nepal’s population is in rural municipalities, and two-thirds is in urban centres. Three-fourths of Nepalis live in just four of the seven provinces: Kosi, Bagmati, Madhes and Lumbini. The trend is even more alarming if we look at the data at district and rural municipality levels. Nearly all hill and mountain districts have seen sharp population declines. Some towns have not just added population from the hinterland, but also sucked up its resources. Municipalities have not been able to keep up with demand for jobs, quality education, affordable healthcare, or water supply. After the first federal elections to local governments in 2017, there was finally hope that local candidates would be held more accountable because of their proximity to the electorate. The campaign slogan of ‘Singha Darbar in every village’ raised hopes that democracy would finally deliver genuine local development. Some city dwellers even returned to their ancestral villages. But hopes were soon dashed because grassroots governments once again failed to deliver. Feeling let down once more, people moved from villages to cities, from the mountains to the plains, and from there many continued abroad. Migration patterns have changed. It is not just young males who are leaving for the cities, entire families are. Houses are padlocked, villages are empty, fields are fallow. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/eastern-nepal-s-depopulating-mountains">Eastern Nepal’s depopulating mountains</a>, Gopal Dahal <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://flo.uri.sh/visualisation/16960977/embed" title="Interactive or visual content" class="flourish-embed-iframe" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" style="width:100%;height:600px;" sandbox="allow-same-origin allow-forms allow-scripts allow-downloads allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation"></iframe><div style="width:100%!;margin-top:4px!important;text-align:right!important;"><a class="flourish-credit" href="https://public.flourish.studio/visualisation/16960977/?utm_source=embed&amp;utm_campaign=visualisation/16960977" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none!important"><img alt="Made with Flourish" src="https://public.flourish.studio/resources/made_with_flourish.svg" style="width:105px!important;height:16px!important;border:none!important;margin:0!important;"></a></div></div> Elected representatives in fancy new municipality offices have not responded appropriately to the enormity of the demographic change taking place. There have been two elections after the new Constitution in 2017 and 2022, meanwhile internal migration into Kathmandu has increased. More than half the population of Kathmandu Valley was not born there. There is urban-to-urban migration as people move from cities like Biratnagar, Birganj, Bharatpur to Kathmandu. Five of the municipalities with the highest population growth: Kageswari Manohara, Karkeswar, Nagarjun, Mahalaxmi, and Suryabinayak are all in Kathmandu Valley. Census data shows where the people have left. Five towns in Gandaki and Sudur Paschim Province have had the most dramatic population declines. Sanfebagar Muncipality in Accham had an annual population decline of 2.55% between 2011-2021. Jamini in Baglung, Galyang in Syangja, and Phalebas in Syangja all lost nearly 2% of their population every year (see map). Urbanisation is driven by aspiration. People move to where there are opportunities and a better quality of life. The mass movement happening now in Nepal is because local governments have not created good conditions in rural areas. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-last-men-standing">The last men standing</a>, Daman Rai  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240301040320_63c86e52713ce1684b733409a9768dffd301489f561f267ba4a2968102138c21.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240301040320_63c86e52713ce1684b733409a9768dffd301489f561f267ba4a2968102138c21" data-rendition-name="original" width="423" height="185" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis are voting with their feet NT"></figure>  There is another change sweeping villages in Taplejung and Sankhuwasabha. Although their populations have decreased, the number of households has increased. This indicates a trend in rural areas to live in nuclear families instead of joint ones. The last census showed that of the 430 rural municipalities in Nepal, 250 had negative growth. In contrast, of the 293 urban centres, 224 saw population increases. Gandaki Province has the highest rate of outmigration, with 83% of rural municipalities decreasing in population. Only 3% in Madhes Province saw decreases. More than half of rural municipalities seeing population decline can only mean one thing – Nepalis are voting with their feet. Even though political power was theoretically devolved to municipalities and provinces, they were not allocated sufficient resources, and federal entities in Kathmandu still call the shots. Biratnagar, Janakpur, Hetauda, Pokhara, Surkhet and Dhangadi were chosen as provincial capitals, and all have seen a surge in population in the past six years. Perhaps what was needed was not just decentralisation away from Kathmandu, but locating provincial capitals in rural areas to boost job creation, trade and political opportunity. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-moving-from-mountains-to-plains">Nepalis moving from mountains to plains</a>, Shristi Karki

Nepalis are voting with their feet

The pale green ice on the top of the lake gleams in the pale January sunlight. The dark waters beneath are visible through the translucent frozen surface. This is Thulagi Glacial Lake at the foot of Mt Manaslu in central Nepal, classified as one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up">most dangerous lakes </a>to appear in the Himalaya due to climate heating.&nbsp; The place is breathtaking not just because of its 4,050m altitude, but the scenery all around. The beauty belies the threat this expanding lake poses downstream along the Marsyangdi Valley. &nbsp; The lake lies at the terminus of the 4.5km long Thulagi Glacier. The local Gurung inhabitants call it Dona Tal. They say it started appearing in the 1960s. Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung, 47, has been ferrying trekkers to the spot for about 20 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>MELTING MOUNTAINS: Thulagi Glacial Lake in Manang has been identified among 47 lakes in Nepal at risk of an outburst flood because of climate breakdown. All photos: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Yaks graze below Thulagi Himal (7,059m) and Mt Manaslu (8,163m) along the Dona Khola that drains the lake.</figcaption> </figure>  “Dona used to be small, but it has now grown bigger,” he says, gesturing to how the glacier has receded and shrunk. Trekkers used to be able to go to the other side, but now the glacier is riddled with ponds and boulders falling off the moraine that make it dangerous.&nbsp; Gurung adds rather matter-of-factly: “The lake will burst sooner or later.”&nbsp; Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) has been studying Thulagi for the past two decades. Topographic maps from the 1960s and early satellite images show the lake being much smaller.&nbsp; When the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-resource-curse">Marsyangdi Hydropower Project</a> project was being built in 1994, the German Institute of Geology and Natural Resources with the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology measured the lake to be already 2km in length. More recent surveys show the lake has increased its size since then to more than 1 sq km. &nbsp; The lake is among 47 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/meltpools-in-the-himalaya">dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal and Tibet </a>&nbsp;identified by ICIMOD in 2020 due to its size, the risk of landslides and avalanches, and the gradual collapse of the lake’s ice-core moraine dam.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung has been taking trekkers up to Thulagi Lake for 20 years.</figcaption> </figure>  In 2018 a team of glaciologists led by Umesh K Haritasya <a href="https://www.mdpi.com/2072-4292/10/5/798">published a journal article</a> about the evolution of three glacial lakes including Thulagi, Lower Barun, and Imja. Even back in 1976, Thulagi was twice the size of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Diverting-danger,3172">Imja glacial lake</a> in the Khumbu and six times the size of the Lower Barun. The team measured the lake’s depth at 79m, and calculated that it held 36.1 million m3 of water. Since then, Thulagi has been growing at a slower rate than the other two lakes because it is shielded by shadows of mountains. There is also not as much glacial calving in the narrow valley.&nbsp; Nonetheless, scientists and experts have long warned that a Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) from Thulagi poses a big risk to four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and settlements like Besisahar and Dumre (map).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504" data-rendition-name="original" width="2076" height="1444" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi map"> </figure>  The lake feeds into Dona Khola, a tributary of the Marsyangdi where the 49.9MW Dona Khola hydropower project is being built at a cost of Rs10 billion. Another 42MW Super Dona Khola project is planned on the river. “One of the trigger points that could lead to a glacial lake outburst could be the steep lateral moraine, which might be weakened by rapidly melting permafrost,” says Scott Watson, a University of Leeds researcher who was part of the team that conducted the 2018 study. Locals are already witnessing what Watson describes. They say that it was easy to reach Thulagi’s headwaters even until a few years ago, but that is now dangerous because of ice and rockfalls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1426" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>The 50MW Upper Marsyangdi Hydropower Project station in Lamjung. A Thulagi Lake outburst would damage four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and its tributaries.</figcaption> </figure>  GLOF WARNING&nbsp; Glaciologist Rijan Bhakta Kayastha has been studying Thulagi since 1994, and was part of a team that discovered that the lake’s terminal moraine was made up of rocky soil on top and ice at its core.&nbsp; In 2020, Kayastha's team published a study that modelled the route of a possible GLOF. They found that if the lake burst, it would take 2.5 hours to reach Dharapani, and 4 hours to reach Bahundanda 39km downstream. The surge would be 13.7m high at Dharapani and 15m by the time it reached Taal, the village most at risk because it is situated only a few metres above the Marsyangdi. ‘Considering the size of the Thulagi glacial lake and its dam, it seems unlikely that a rock fall or avalanche would cause the lake to breach the moraine dam,” concluded the study. “But an earthquake or climate change would require a separate study. At present, there is no immediate or imminent threat of this glacier bursting.” MEMORIES OF 2021 Across Manang valley, residents are haunted by the memories of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">2021 flood on the Marsyangdi</a> that swept away parts of Chame, Dharapani, Naso, and Taal villages.&nbsp; Kamarkali Gurung, grew up on the banks of the Marsyangdi in Dharapani, and had never imagined that the tranquil river she knew could become such a monster. She had saved up to build her own three-story property with 17 rooms.&nbsp; Her family was away that June evening when the flood swept away her hotel. “Not even a spoon remained, everything was gone,” says Kamarkali. “Losing the hotel hurt like losing a loved one. The Marsyangdi flows through my house now, I can never go back.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>SURVIVORS: Kamarkali Gurung's hotel was swept away by the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi. She now operates her hotel from a rented house in Dharapani.</figcaption> </figure>  Surendra Gurung, also a hotelier, was in Dharapani the night of the flood, and can still remember the fear as the river roared towards the village. “I did not know if I would live or die,” he says.&nbsp; Sirantal village was merely 10m above the Marsyangdi, and was completely destroyed by the flood. Thirty-two people were rescued by army helicopters, and most of the families have now relocated to Taal.&nbsp; One of them is Singha Bahadur Gurung who also ran a lodge for 20 years. “We did not have to buy anything except rice, the soil in Sirantal was so fertile,” he remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Singha Bahadur Gurung operated a lodge in Sirantal before the flood swept it away in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  Marsyangdi now flows through where Singha Gurung’s village used to be. “Ever since the flood, I am terrified every time it rains from June to August,” he says.&nbsp; The 2021 flood was during the monsoon, and was caused by unusually heavy rainfall in the catchment. A GLOF on the Marsyangdi would be much more destructive. Roshni Ghale, 46, runs a hotel in Taal, and escaped with her family to a nearby cave as the flood engulfed nearby homes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Roshni Ghale spent six months after the 2021 flood rebuilding her hotel in Taal. Tourism has steadily picked up in the four years since the flood. </figcaption> </figure>  “We spent the next six months after the flood rebuilding our lives, going to bed hungry many a night,” she recalls. In the four years since, tourism has picked up again, but the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unseen-wounds-of-climate-disasters"> community is still traumatised</a>. In the wake of the floods, the government had begun talks to rehabilitate and repatriate the community, but until now, they have been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/from-one-disaster-to-the-next">empty promises</a>. In any case, the people here, most of them experienced hoteliers whose livelihood depends on tourism, are unwilling to uproot their lives and start over elsewhere.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Most of the survivors of the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi from villages like Sirantal have relocated to the upstream village of Taal, which itself was hit by a monsoon flood in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  DISASTER PREPAREDNESS Even though studies have assessed the risk of GLOFs in Manang and across Nepal, and warned about the damage that such floods could cause, it took until 2021 for early warning systems to be installed on the banks of the Marsyangdi and in the town of Taal.&nbsp; But beyond that, there has been little preparedness. Early warning systems and disaster preparedness are necessary not just along the Marsyangdi but also at and around Thulagi itself, say experts. Locals here are becoming increasingly aware of the risk posed by the expanding lake up the valley, but are reluctant to leave homes and communities that they have lived in for generations. The hydropower projects on the Dona Khola promises jobs, and the local government is upgrading the hiking trail to Thulagi Lake which has become a tourist attraction. “Manang now gets <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/too-little-snow-too-much-rain">too little snow and too much rain</a>, and the Marsyangdi charts its own course,” says Min Rashi Gurung, chair of Ward-1 of Naso rural municipality, where Thulagi is located. &nbsp; But help may be on the way.Last year, the Green Climate Fund (GCF) approved a $36.1 million grant to help Nepal reduce risk of GLOFs in Thulagi and four other glacial lakes. The project is managed by the government and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). The project is set to begin next fiscal year, and will reduce the water level in the four glacial lakes including Thulagi, similar to what was done in Imja and Tso Rolpa, says Dinkar Kayastha at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology. &nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism - Nepal

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

This is the 81st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I went to Australia in 2008 because everyone was headed there. It was my first time leaving the country and my first job. My college helped me find work as a kitchen helper at a Brisbane restaurant.&nbsp; I did not know that being a kitchen helper meant washing dishes. I was young and did not know how to wash dishes or how to handle the steam, the hot water, and the busy kitchen. The utensils were thrown at the dishwashing station continuously, and water splashed on my face. My shoes and clothes were always wet. It was an on-call job. A couple of days into the job, I was asked to come in when I was at the movies. I refused. They fired me. That was that. I then worked on a farm, picking lemons and oranges. The lemon work was particularly hard because I would get cuts all over my hands. This hustle was not for me.&nbsp; Within a year in Australia, I decided to return to Nepal because the foreign life did not suit me. After spending eight months in Nepal, reality sank in. Nepal was not all that great either. I went back to Australia. On the plane, I befriended a Nepali woman who was homesick and a first time traveler. At the immigration in Australia, the officer noticed my long absence and started interrogating me. He noticed the Nepali woman waiting for me and asked who she was. Without thinking I lied that she was my girlfriend. That seemed to do the trick because he did not want us to be separated. He stamped my passport. She went her way. I went mine.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f" data-rendition-name="original" width="987" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81 NT"> </figure>  In Sydney, I again found a dishwashing job at a fine dining restaurant. A Sri Lankan colleague helped me learn the job. The pace at which I had to do the dishes was insane but I got the hang of it in two weeks. I always dreamt of one day wearing the chef’s white coat. It commanded respect, I could tell. In addition to becoming good at my job washing dishes, I also had good language and networking skills so I built good relationships with colleagues. There was a need for a pizza chef at the restaurant. It was expensive to hire someone new, and they asked me if I was up for the job. I said yes even though I knew nothing about making pizzas. My Italian colleagues coached me and before I knew it, I became better than others at the job. Soon, I realised that I did not just want to make pizzas. Whatever I wanted to learn, I just asked seniors to take me under their wings and I would help without pay. They would agree but still pay me. It wasn’t a strategy per se, I genuinely wanted to learn. At some point, a Japanese sous chef in my restaurant and I had coincidentally applied to the same restaurant, and there, under him, I got to learn even more. Working with a Japanese chef is really difficult, but you learn a lot. He would sometimes even hold my hand with tongs dipped in hot water when I screwed something up. I worked in a few restaurants after this and was earning well. When one of my colleagues, a dishwasher, was let go unfairly, I decided to leave because I did not want to be a quiet bystander to this act. I returned to Nepal immediately after this.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 82"> </figure>  I started a restaurant called Ghumti, but it was struggling. The location of the restaurants was not good and it failed. I bought another restaurant in Darbar Marg. I was managing two restaurants when Covid hit. The rent kept piling up, and there was no revenue. I took a huge loss. I gave them up and returned to Chitwan and started making migration plans. I came across a job vacancy for Alba in Qatar by the famous Enrico Crippa. I still remember the heat when I got out of the airport in Doha, it was like entering an oven. Thankfully, I had a Nepali roommate who showed me around and helped me adjust.&nbsp; The hotel was still under construction, but training had started. We worked really hard for the opening and things went well. In 2023, we even won the Best MENA Restaurant award. But at some point in 2024, the international Crippa chain decided to leave.&nbsp; Some colleagues including the head chef left and I suddenly was put in charge. I had some head chef experience from Australia and had previous experience working in high pressure environments, so I stepped up. We had to start from scratch again, this time as Alba in Raffles, Doha.&nbsp; The name of our restaurant comes from the Alba white truffle, which is the best available and is expensive, selling at around 40,000 QAR per kg. We had heard the official announcement that the Michelin was coming to Qatar, and we worked even harder.&nbsp; Michelin inspections are strict, highly secretive and you have no idea you are being investigated. Even then, we were up for the game. We were ‘selected’ which meant we had potential.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="697" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81"> </figure>  I went to the award ceremony with low expectations. But because they announce the name alphabetically, Alba came first. I was very happy and felt validated. Being recognised as a Michelin one star restaurant is a huge achievement for us. My MD reminded me of a promise I had made of getting a Michelin tattoo if we got the award. I guess I will get it done when I come to Nepal next. My plan is to get a tattoo that captures my journey right from the dishwashing days.&nbsp; I have cooked for Obama, Beckham, Kaka, Trump, 50 Cent, Lindsay Lohan, you name it, because our restaurant is visited by high profile guests. At first, I used to feel the pressure. Now I view all guests as the same. The food you make is the same no matter who is eating it. I love the work. In fact, it does not feel like work. The rush in the kitchen, the atmosphere, the heat, the scent, I live for it. When I am not working, I get bored. It is like an addiction without which I get withdrawals. I want to contribute in introducing Nepali cuisine and ingredients in the worldstage. Nepalis overseas have a lot of potential in the hospitality sector. But my advice to youth is to focus on building a strong base and invest in learning. It is increasingly common for Nepalis to job hop for a salary jump. While other skills like language are also important, it is the hard skills that we really need to focus on. In our field of work, it is the plate that needs to speak.

Sky is the limit

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

We walk past familiar neighbourhoods and wonder how much it has changed. An ongoing exhibition at The Kalā Salon titled Changing Times by The Pagoda Group aims to do just that -- capture ever-changing society within a captivating display of colourful canvases. Brick-lined houses, local tea shops, ancient temples, quiet devotion are themes in Pradhumna Shrestha’s series Shangri-La, much of which is an imagined past filled with nostalgia of the place he grew up in. By keeping people out of the frame, he allows space for what he calls a divine aura to surface.&nbsp; “I was born and brought up here and my canvases echo the nostalgia of cities like Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur which are dense with myth, folklore, religion, and an ever-present divinity. All of this is truly what is ours, and we must treasure it,” says Shrestha. “Whatever I truly felt in my heart, I translated it into my work.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1036" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  The swirling clouds that drift across Shrestha’s canvases borrow from thangka and paubha traditions, lending the scenes a sense of mysticism and otherworldliness. Within this dreamscape are red circular forms which represent wheels of chariots. &nbsp;The presence of divinity dominates from above, its presence asserted in soft blue brushstrokes below, as if the deity’s gaze itself has seeped into the land. Gods linger as guardians and temples hum with enigma in his paintings. In his much earlier work, Cultural Bond, a lakhe masked dancer bursts forward in vibrant red, dancing against a backdrop of molten gold clouds. The lakhe’s trance signifies protection and where it steps, the evil cannot follow. Hence, the skulls that surround but never fall beneath its feet but, one leg hangs suspended in midair, suggesting uncertainty, raising questions.&nbsp; Is this a symbol of culture and tradition, secure, or is it endangered by modernity? The work captures a society at a crossroads, honouring tradition while grappling with the risk of drifting away from it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="979" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In Panchatatva Mandala, Pasang Bikram Lama fuses two mandalas into a single visual meditation, suggesting unity where each colour carries symbolic weight: yellow evokes the soil of the earth, blue flows as water, red burns with fire, and black opens into the vastness of the spatial sky. Together, these elements form a quiet cosmology that speaks of creation and dissolution, of life folding endlessly into death and returning again. Says Lama, “Everyone has a mandala of their own being, and the elements represent their cycle of life.” Mala Shrestha’s works Water of the Divine Mother and The Spirit of Serenity unfold in a dreamy and delicate fusion of nature and religion, suggesting that divine forms are not separate from the natural world. Trees and branch-like motifs appear as origins of sacred sculptures and spiritual presences.&nbsp; Her goddesses, adorned in alluring ornaments, emerge from trunks and streams, painted in aqua green, pink pastels, and rustic browns, as if grown rather than created, affirming that the divine is inseparable from nature and present everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Kishor Nakarmi’s Essence of Nepal, where Gautam Buddha appears embedded within leaves, brick walls, birds, and wilderness, dissolving boundaries between the sacred and the earthly. These canvases radiate calm and their subtlety is enriched by finely observed details. Similarly, Rudra Bahadur Pun captures the vitality of mask dances and ritual movements found in the monasteries of Mustang, weaving together tradition, landscape, and daily life. The essence of the exhibition comes together in Roshan Pradhan’s works. His paintings reflect a contemporary tension where technology collides with ancestral myth and the power of tradition. A fierce Garud rises within a landscape saturated by technological apparatuses, while at its feet a human form representing AI clings tightly, attempting to assert control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In another work, Bhairab confronts a human embodiment of AI in a theatrical standoff, with the deity ultimately prevailing, reaffirming endurance over technological dominance. The human figures in Pradhan’s paintings are drawn from life with his friends volunteering as models, photographed and later translated onto canvas.&nbsp; “Technology has taken over our lives. Many can probably not even imagine life without it now. But, culture, too, is integral to human existence. Our life would be much different without our culture; it is a part of us,” notes the artist. Rather than framing technology as purely antagonistic, Pradhan explores coexistence, and while acknowledging its destructive potential, he affirms his belief in the power of our myths and traditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Pradhan adds, “These paintings are also an archive of its time. Viewers centuries from now may read these paintings as records of the age we inhabit. While technology is important, cultural continuity must walk alongside it. Festivals must still be celebrated, oral traditions must be sustained, and our roots must be remembered, especially by future generations.” Curator Sophia L Pande says the exhibition took more than a year to put together:&nbsp; “It responds to a shifting world, seeking to capture both transformation and the quiet fear of loss. Its themes move fluidly across environment, technology, artificial intelligence, and climate change, reflecting the diverse yet interconnected practices of the artists, providing a glimpse into the evolving landscape of contemporary Nepali art.” Changing Times The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11AM-8PM

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