Thailand’s use of every possible diplomatic pressure point to secure the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/hamas-releases-thais-but-where-is-bipin">release of its hostages from Hamas custody</a> may also provide pointers to Nepal as it seeks to free one of its students believed to be held by Hamas in Gaza. Thai negotiators used Shia Muslim politicians including House Speaker Wan Muhamad Noor Matha and Leaprong Sayed to approach the Iranian backers of Hamas directly. They made several trips to Tehran in the past weeks. The fact that the Thai Muslims were non-political and were sympathetic to the Palestinian cause is said to have helped secure the release. In addition, the Thais also worked with Qatari and Egyptian mediators and managed to get their workers released in a deal that was not part of the overall ceasefire agreement and the Israeli and Palestinian prisoner exchange deal. There were an estimated 30,000 Thai farm workers in Israel, but about 7.500 of them have returned to Thailand after the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack">war started on 7 October</a>. More than 1,200 Israelis were killed in the attack, and 257 were taken hostage.&nbsp; More than 15,000 Palestinians, most of them children, have been killed in heavy Israeli bombardment of Gaza until the ceasefire on 26 November. The ceasefire has been extended till Thursday. The highest number of foreign hostages held and killed by Hamas were Thai agriculture workers, and so far 17 have been released in three phases. Fifteen are still held by Hamas, and 39 Thais were killed in the 7 October Hamas attack. Ten Nepali agriculture students working in Kibbutz Alum were killed, and one of them, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/waiting-for-bipin-joshi">Bipin Joshi</a>, 21, was reported to have been led away by Hamas militants along with the Thais.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231125061124_c3be67c2eb407598616b4dcfe7fcacb556d850b7781e443bf03f1fcbfaec2ade.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231125061124_c3be67c2eb407598616b4dcfe7fcacb556d850b7781e443bf03f1fcbfaec2ade" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="533" loading="lazy" alt="Bipin Joshi NT"> <figcaption>Bipin Joshi</figcaption> </figure>  Later CCTV videos captured by the Israel Defence Force from Al-Shifa Hospital purportedly shows Joshi being led down the corridor by Hamas along with an injured Thai in a stretcher. In a statement on Monday, the Thai foreign Ministry said: ‘We thank all parties involved in the efforts towards this latest releases, and the Royal Thai government continues to exert all efforts towards the safe release of the remaining 15 Thai hostages.’ Meanwhile, in Nepal Bipin Joshi’s family has appealed to the Nepal government to strengthen its efforts to get his release by Hamas. They said they had been hopeful that he would be freed along with the Thais, but have been disappointed so far. Joshi, along with the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/war-in-israel-earthquake-and-grief-in-nepal"> ten students who were killed were all university agriculture students</a> selected by the Israeli Embassy in Kathmandu for its ‘earn and learn’ program in farms in Israel.&nbsp; Last week, Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal met visiting Qatari Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, Soltan bin Saad Al-Muraikhi, and asked him to use his good offices to secure Joshi’s release. Foreign policy analysts say Thailand has been much more engaged in the hostage release negotiations because many more of its nationals are involved compared to Nepalis. Also, Thailand has more clout in the international community, and has also strategically used its Muslim leaders, which Nepal has not.

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Deft diplomacy freed Thai hostages

This is the 43rd instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.&nbsp; It was a Saturday morning. Tired from the week’s work in the farm, we were looking forward to resting and catching up with families back home. It had been just over a month since we arrived in Israel. But early morning at 5am on 7 October, we were woken up by earthquake-like jolts. We rushed outside, and there were missiles streaking across the sky and explosions.&nbsp; We found it all very exciting at first, but when the sirens went off we got worried and ruished to our little bunker to hide. There we started getting frantic calls from fellow Nepali students at Kibbutz Alumim which was 18km away. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack">Nepalis confirmed killed in Hamas attack</a> They video called us and asked for help. They said there was an explosion in their bunker and blood everywhere. Our hands trembled as we called our college representative, but the whole area was under attack and there was no way any ambulance could make it in. Later, even our wifi and electricity got cut off, and we could not get in touch with our friends or anyone else. When the internet was restored in the evening, we found out that 17 of our friends at Alumim had also taken shelter in a bunker, but had come under attack from terrorists. &nbsp; We had arrived in Israel just a month before under the ‘Learn and Earn’ program. We were just settling in and getting a hang of things. The first three weeks were spent just getting used to the desert environment in southern Israel. At the farm, it was long hours of manual work sorting, grading and packaging onions.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231011091012_804eb8439329e3c3b7a284e5875d7b716304d2c846e3b1f10094de617f72490b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231011091012_804eb8439329e3c3b7a284e5875d7b716304d2c846e3b1f10094de617f72490b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  In the bunker that first day, I was worried that my family was worried about me because I could not go my weekly call. Had my parents and brother back in Nepal found out <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack" target="_blank">what has happened in Israel?</a> My silence could have made them assume the worst. The minute I got a chance, I called them to let them know I was safe. In the three days we spent in the bunker, it was difficult to speak to my family to describe the situation. I would feel overwhelmed and tearful when they asked how I was doing. I could not tell them everything that was really going on because they would panic. I am okay, don’t worry was all I could come up with. After that, I preferred just to exchange text messages.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/war-in-israel-earthquake-and-grief-in-nepal">War in Israel, earthquake and grief in Nepal</a> In that bunker after being woken up by sirens, I remember writing a note on my phone describing the situation since sleep was out of the question.&nbsp; अहिले यहाँ इजरायलमा कति बेला के हुन्छ, केही आतो पतो छैन। हामी साथीहरु विगत शनिबार देखि निरन्तर २ दिनसम्म बंकरमा लुकेर आफ्नो ज्यान जोगाउन बाँधे भाको छम्। यहाँ सोचें जस्तो सहज केही पनि छैन। कति बेला आकासमा कालो धुवाँको मुस्लो उठ्छ थाहा नै हुन्न। निकै नै त्रसित माहोल छ मिसाईलहरु कति बेला का बाट आयो पातो पाइनँ। साईरनको त्यो ठूलो अनि भैंकर आवाजले सतो पुत्लो लिन्छ। आकाश मा हेलिकप्टर अनि फाईटर जेटहरु निरन्तर उडिरहेका छन्। बंकरमा पनि सोचें जस्तै सहज केही छैन् , न खाना न पनि अनि त्यो चिसो भुईमा यो लामो रात त्रासै त्रासमा नसुती बिताउनु कुनै नर्कमा नै भाको अनुभूति हुन्छ। आजको रात निकै लामो हुने छ। पर्खाई त्यो भोलि शुभ विहानीको छ। (Here in Israel, we have no idea what will happen next. Since Saturday we have been trying to stay alive for the past two days in this bunker. Anything can happen at any time, without warning there are black smoke trails of approaching missiles. The loud wail of sirens is frightening. Fighter jets and helicopters are flying all the time. In the cold floor of the bunker, there is no food, no water and in the long and scary sleepless night it feels like hell. This is going to be a long night. We are just waiting for good tidings in the morning.)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231011091012_aebca7aaddc14d0864807b73d2a55bf802f4be4fee111f8d8ee34a929d350867.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20231011091012_aebca7aaddc14d0864807b73d2a55bf802f4be4fee111f8d8ee34a929d350867" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  The farm dogs are also scared, and join us the in the bunker. We first thought we should chase them out since they might bark and draw attention to us, instead we welcomed their companionship and they slept next to us. &nbsp; In the morning we called everyone that we could think of: the Nepal Embassy, government back home, everyone. Sometimes, we had to step out of the bunker to make calls. The response was not so proactive, so we started sharing videos on social media to draw more attention, hoping for some action. When we first got the call from the embassy to get ready, we were thrilled. They told us to just pack our documents and laptops. We left all our luggage behind. We even called our families to tell them we were coming home. But that day no one came to receive us and we waited in vain. It meant another long scary night in the cold bunker.&nbsp; Finally, help came the next day and 32 of us from different farms were escorted by the Israel Army out of the <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=netivot+israel&amp;client=safari&amp;sca_esv=572016509&amp;rls=en&amp;sxsrf=AM9HkKmL6INThh6fvozKNX7AhMsqGhk5Aw:1696891421452&amp;ei=HYIkZaOlG8iUseMP1ZW16AY&amp;ved=0ahUKEwjjp5eTheqBAxVISmwGHdVKDW0Q4dUDCA8&amp;uact=5&amp;oq=netivot+israel&amp;gs_lp=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&amp;sclient=gws-wiz-serp#fpstate=ive&amp;vld=cid:f2f00253,vid:5dHF5sPLYCI,st:0" target="_blank">Netivot</a> area to safety. Leaving behind our belongings, we came to <a href="http://global-learner.com/negev/" target="_blank">Ramat Negev farm</a> which is where we are at now. Being away from yesterday’s place feels a lot safer. This is far from the war zone and out in the desert near the Egypt border without many residential buildings. We thought we would be brought to Tel Aviv but instead, here we are for the time being.&nbsp; Finally, we realise how the accumulated stress and fatigue of the last three days has worn us out. There was fear from constant sounds of sirens and explosions, and the urgent need to coordinate with different agencies for our rescue, assure our families we were okay. Most importantly, we grieved the friends we lost. Our friend Bipin is still missing, there is no news about him.&nbsp; Here at the farm, besides us Nepalis there are other colleagues from Thailand and Zimbabwe. After what feels like ages, we finally got to eat warm food which felt good and made us happy, that too in the company of friends. We are spending time talking, trying to recover and gain back our energy.&nbsp; We are in touch with our families who are also relieved that we are away from the frontline. But they are desperate for us to come home. And so are we. Although we are relatively safe here, there is still uncertainty, what if the war spreads to where we are and something goes wrong again. What if things escalate?&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231011091012_88fece4158ae2bf08eb19317f58828c4273f09f9e54302e476832851d839c54b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20231011091012_88fece4158ae2bf08eb19317f58828c4273f09f9e54302e476832851d839c54b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1434" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  We want to return to Nepal, and need to be rescued as soon as possible. They should not wait for things to normalise to rescue us. If things get back to normal, we can come back by ourselves.&nbsp; What I wrote last night was in an empty stomach about waiting for good tidings in the morning.&nbsp; पर्खाइ त्यो भोलीको शुभ बिहानी नेपालमा देख्ने रहर छ ।&nbsp; (Today, I write: in a full stomach and in company of friends in a relatively safe area, I try to get some sleep waiting for tomorrow morning, and the yearning to be back home in Nepal.&nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

A Nepali’s lucky escape from Hamas

These are the individual tragedies of some of the 10 Nepalis killed in the Hamas attack on Saturday. Seven of those killed and one missing were from Far-western Nepal and were among 49 agriculture undergrads from Sudurpaschim University in Tikapur selected for the Israel government’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-learn-and-earn-from-israel">‘earn and learn’ program</a>. They were all working at Kibbutz Alumim near the Gaza border, and were killed in two separate attacks by Hamas fighters on bunkers near the farm. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack">Nepalis confirmed killed in Hamas attack</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131028_6c18a47f287bb925e313df2621bde383ffa21267b5b27ae64d0c46261af48f0e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231010131028_6c18a47f287bb925e313df2621bde383ffa21267b5b27ae64d0c46261af48f0e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  Dipesh Raj Bista Dipesh Raj Bista, 24, was hiding in a bunker with other Nepali students at Kibbutz Alumim. One of the students, Ganesh Nepali of Bajhang, had to go to the restroom and had just stepped out of the door when he was gunned down by Hamas militants outside. Eye witness Pramod KC who survived the attack said Dipesh then also went out of the door with his hands in the air, shouting “Don’t shoot, we are Nepali!” But he was also felled in a hail of automatic gunfire. The militants then lobbed two grenades into the bunker. Another Nepali, Bipin Joshi from Dhangadi threw one of the grenades out, but the other one exploded killing and injuring the remaining Nepalis. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Dipesh was from the village of Lekum in Darchula, and like the others was an undergrad at the Sudupaschim University in Tikapur. He was the sole support of the family after his father Ashok died of cancer. His mother Parbati fainted on hearing the news and has been admitted to hospital. “He used to call our mother every evening,” Dipesh’s sister Mamata recalled. “But when we called him on Saturday we could not reach him and started getting really worried.” Mamata remembers her younger brother as being brilliant and studious. He wanted to earn money to pay for their younger brother who is now enrolled in the MBBS program in Dharan. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131040_0b44f6584a1b6d193fa64a9800513594c2505a9867c25e4cde60fd6fef7aef0c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231010131040_0b44f6584a1b6d193fa64a9800513594c2505a9867c25e4cde60fd6fef7aef0c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  Padam Thapa Padam got a fond farewell when he left his home in Doti for Israel last month. Friends and relatives wished him good luck in social media posts. Western Nepal had just suffered an earthquake, and his sister-in-law Mekhu Adhikari had told him in a call that there had been scary aftershocks. Adhikari hung up and got busy at work, so she had no time to look at her phone. But when she did, there was a short text message from Padam: ‘I am dying, bhauju.’ She tried calling back but could not reach him. Then she heard on the news that Nepali students had been caught up in the Hamas attack on Israel.&nbsp; Padam’s father Tikaram, 65, has hypertension, and had to be hospitalised as soon as he heard the news that his son was among the dead. Padam was the youngest of the four siblings, and the most enterprising and cheerful.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131044_deba0e01aa26526221db8c83552634459ae6cd101d72b124df4d41f12967c9f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231010131044_deba0e01aa26526221db8c83552634459ae6cd101d72b124df4d41f12967c9f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  Ganesh Nepali The last time Ganesh called from Israel on Friday evening, he was worried that the epicenter of the earthquake that had just struck western Nepal was in his home district of Bajhang, and he told his elder brother Bikash to take care of their parents and stay safe.&nbsp; The family house had been damaged in the earthquake, but it was Ganesh who was soon going to be in a dangerous situation. Hours after that call, Bikash got news of the attack by Hamas militants on southern Israel. When he found Ganesh’s name on the Nepal Embassy list of 10 fatalities, he was unable to immediately tell their parents and other siblings. The family is in shock that this happened to Ganesh just a month after he was selected to go to Israel. He was a bright agriculture undergraduate student in Tikapur. Bikash used to always help Ganesh with his homework, and had been a guardian to him. Ganesh was studying to specialise in tissue culture.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131048_5d263684dfb6ec181c008689546f46fe8d17251e2b9fc691d8cc4deaca26991c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20231010131048_5d263684dfb6ec181c008689546f46fe8d17251e2b9fc691d8cc4deaca26991c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT 8"> </figure>  Ashish Chaudhary Kanaiyalal Chaudhary, 70, still vividly remembers the excitement in his grandson Ashish’s voice when he called him from Kathmandu airport last month, saying he was about board his flight to Israel. Twenty-five year old Ashish’s parents work in Bangalore, and he was taking care of his grandfather who in turn had taken care of him single-handedly since childhood in his village in Kailali. Kanaiyalal’s wife had died earlier, and his daughter is paralysed. &nbsp; Ashish was excited about learning new farming techniques in arid regions while in Israel and to apply some of those skills in Nepal when he returned in 11 months.&nbsp; Ashish Chaudhary was among 13 Nepalis who survived a previous Hamas grenade attack on a bunker, and had sought shelter in another nearby bunker along with 20 Thai workers. Suddenly, Hamal militants stormed that bunker also. They took away seven Thais along with one of the Nepalis, Bipin Joshi, and sprayed the rest with bullets and lobbed several grenades. Ashish was killed on the spot along with five other Nepalis. The elderly Kaniyalal is immersed in grief. He had raised Ashish singlehandedly, and feels the loss deeply. His wish is to be able to see his grandson one time before performing his last rites. Between sobs, he tells us, “What do I have to live for now? Why didn’t death take me instead of my grandson?”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131024_391c7d95ede961861b088b378b85345496bf344d835d10cb277c821c6b88b0ca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231010131024_391c7d95ede961861b088b378b85345496bf344d835d10cb277c821c6b88b0ca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="400" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  Rajan Phulara Before he had left for Israel, 23-year-old Rajan Phulara of Shikhar Municipality in Doti had dreams of coming back home and applying for the Civil Service exam. Rajan became one of the 10 Nepalis confirmed dead in the Hamas attack on southern Israel near Gaza this week. Phulara was among the BSc Agriculture students from Sudur Paschim University who had flown to Israel for the Learn and Earn 11-months internship program. Only a week ago, during a video call with his uncle Rajendra Phulara, he had shared his plans for when he would be back in Nepal. “I’m going to learn new things here but I will implement them in my country, after my civil service exam,” Rajendra, who works at Doti Hospital, recalls his nephew telling him. During the call, Rajan had turned the camera around towards Gaza. “That right there is Gaza,” he had said. “There can be an attack any time, we have been told to seek shelter in a bunker if there is one.” It was in one of those bunkers that Rajan together with Ashish Chaudhary (see above) and four others were gunned down by Hamas militants. Rajan’s father Ghyanshyam fainted on being told of his son’s death. He had taken loans to fund his son's higher studies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131028_f6d6974b69ccb7960897a5a48390b832029103b8ceb7de6b8edb51d3f6c98433.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20231010131028_f6d6974b69ccb7960897a5a48390b832029103b8ceb7de6b8edb51d3f6c98433" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  Lokendra Singh Dhami The remote and tiny village of Malikarjun in Darchula district is in shock. Neighbours have all crowded to the house of Lokendra Singh Ghami, 24 who was among the agriclutre students selected to go to Israel for a year of study-work. Like the others, Lokendra’s wife had spoken to him on Friday and he was high spirits, asking about his five-year-old daughter and two-year-old son. Dhami’s brother is in the Nepal Army, and by coincidence is posted at the UN Peacekeeping contingent in Lebanon at the moment. Already shocked by Lokendra’s death, his parents are now also worried about their other son. Local government authorities have tried to console the family, and said they will ensure that the body will be brought home soon. A family that was preparing for Dasain festival, and the entire village, is now in deep mourning. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231010131036_e528a63b6a43ed2687d47866e421b046c663f8a12f04eb40e41ef72a4a96672e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20231010131036_e528a63b6a43ed2687d47866e421b046c663f8a12f04eb40e41ef72a4a96672e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> </figure>  Narayan Prasad Neupane &nbsp; Hari Krishna, Narayan Prasad Neupane’s 70-year-old father, keeps losing consciousness ever since he was told his young son is dead. Narayan had lost his mother at age 5 and was very close to his father. A friendly boy, Naryan was also good in studies, and his elder brother and his wife were working in Bangalore so the family could afford to send him to a good college. “He used to say he wanted to contribute to Nepal’s progress by bringing new farming skills from Israel,” his sister Manju recalled. “He was very passionate about agriculture. We want to see him one last time, that is all we want from the government.” Shocked neighbours have crowded around the Neupanes’ simple wooden house for support.&nbsp; Translated from reports by Khagendra Bahadur Singh, Paramnanda Pandey, Shivaraj Bhatta, Sundar Singh Dhami, Mahadeya Awasti, Pratap Oli from Paschim Today, Dhangadi. <a href="https://paschimtoday.com/" target="_blank">https://paschimtoday.com</a>

War in Israel, earthquake and grief in Nepal

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

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

My father’s son

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>