<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b718a9c7e80680e0600d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="733" height="506"/><figcaption>At Jim Edwards surprise 50th birthday celebration at the British Ambassador's Kakani bungalow are Col Jimmy Roberts, Elizabeth Hawley, Uttara Crees and Lute Jerstad. Photo: Lisa Choegyal</figcaption></figure>As an egotistic control freak, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jim Edwards</a> did not like surprises. It was with bad grace that he grudgingly permitted me to arrange his 50th birthday celebration, but it drove him mad that he was not in charge of the details and kept in the dark about the lunch party location: the British Ambassador’s bungalow at Kakani.An added problem was that Jim went to great lengths to avoid any birthday, like most people who consider themselves immortal. Late one evening, warming his hands around the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/bardiya-beginnings-Lisa-Choegyal,1085" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bardia</a> campfire, I overheard him declare: “I’m never going to die! I simply can’t imagine a world without me.” In his element, Jim was hosting friends at Karnali, the steep riverbank carved by last monsoon was marked by a rough fence of fallen branches.He was deadly serious. Jim’s entire focus and massive talent was for life and living, and he had no pretension or spiritual aptitude to ponder the next world. Insisting on always being the centre of attention, life was never dull in his orbit. Jim created an infectious vortex of energy and manipulated a whirl of complex relationships.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b718c9c7e80680e0600d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="992" height="662"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b718f9c7e80680e0600dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1032" height="763"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>That morning, 24 November 1985, the advance guard had been sent ahead to prepare lunch in the needle-carpeted grounds of the ambassador’s historic home, nestled amidst the pines high on a ridge north of Kathmandu with an expansive view across waves of hills to the white peaks. Jim had insisted on overseeing the guest list, and the rented bus was loaded up with family, friends, and my <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/fire-in-the-afternoon-tiger-tops,846" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tiger Tops</a> and Mountain Travel colleagues.It was my task to bring Jim in his red range rover, an early extravagance and one of the first models off the Solihull assembly line, muttering and grumbling all the way up the tortuous switchbacks. By Balaju, past the reclining Vishnu in his water garden, and traversing beneath the trees of Nagarjun’s royal forest, Jim had already guessed our destination. The narrow road climbed past heaps of huge radish (mula) for which the land was renowned, today superseded by strawberries and trout. Turning right before the main road drops away to the Trisuli, we reached the Tamang village of Kakani at a refreshing altitude of 6,660 feet (2,030m), and entered the hallowed ground and clipped lawn of the British bungalow. With cheering guests waiting to surprise him, it took all Jim’s self-control to revert to his normal affability.The lunch conspiracy could not have been concocted without the collusion of the ambassador, Anthony Hurrell. Kakani was gifted to the British envoy in the nineteenth century as a country retreat by the reclusive and xenophobic <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-rana-reign-a-recap-of-history,3751" target="_blank" rel="noopener">ruling Ranas</a>. In the exclusive purview of successive ambassadors, its use and worth over the years has waxed and waned at their personal whim.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71919c7e80680e0600dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1089"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71949c7e80680e0600dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="464"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71979c7e80680e0600ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="463"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>John Denson, British Ambassador 1977 to 1983, was an enthusiastic user and published much of what we know of its history. He wrote in 1984: “The sense of isolation and claustrophobia, since the Resident was confined within the Kathmandu Valley, was great and led to a request for somewhere in Nepal where he could breathe. The Maharajah (Prime Minister) agreed that a tract of land could be granted near Kakani, where our present bungalow still stands. … At one time there was a miniature golf course, and the Resident moved there for a part of the year.” As Desmond Doig noted, the fairways straddled the ridge and “must have been hell on caddies.”During their tenure 2006 to 2010, Dr Andrew Hall and his wife Kathy cherished the old bungalow, despite its discomforts, and used it regularly to impress visiting ministers and fellow diplomats. The grounds and woodland were alive with birds and butterflies, marigolds and scarlet poinsettias against a piercing blue sky. “I loved that place - Dudley Spain first took me there for a picnic in 1969, and later we spent as much time up there as we could manage: wreathed in clouds with only leeches for company in summer, stunning views but terribly cold - even with a huge log fire - in winter.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b719a9c7e80680e0600dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="377"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b719e9c7e80680e0600dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71a19c7e80680e0600e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The second British Resident, <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php%3Fid%3D3246&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiBu-r8gKbnAhXA8HMBHSpaBxYQFjAAegQIABAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw1I3FmzX0hV6AjhL3_irJtk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Brian Houghton Hodgson</a>, living in Kathmandu from 1820 to 1843 in various roles, was first provided with a cottage at Koulia, a spot about five kilometres along the ridge north west of Kakani. There are also sketchy references in 1863 to a country house in Bhaktapur “for the use of the Residency”, but no details. When the Koulia “log cabin” was razed by lightning, it was replaced by the Kakani bungalow sometime in the mid to late 1800s - the date unknown.Lost films and forgotten diaries show the cumbersome process of reaching the Kakani outpost in those days, by horse, sedan chair and porter support. In the words of the East India Company Resident Henry Lawrence in 1845, "A lovelier spot on earth the heart of man could scarce desire," although his wife Honoria Lawrence also complained about the leeches. In corsets and stays, yesterday’s memsahibs must have been an intrepid lot.Runners were the only means of communication, later supplemented by a heliograph. This WWI device was used for signalling morse code by means of a movable mirror reflecting beams of sunlight, with direct line of sight to the residence in Lainchaur, now occupied by the Indian embassy. “I suspect that its main purpose in those heroic days was to demand extra supplies of gin!” wrote John Denson.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71a49c7e80680e0600e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Other than Jim’s birthday, I have been invited over the decades for various ambassadorial “picnics”, more often elaborate sit-downs served by teams of Embassy staff, but I only once spent a night, echoing with vanished footsteps. We photographed the bungalow for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-making-of-kathmandu-valley-style/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu Valley Style</a> and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/the-lyrical-life-of-Desmond-Doig,1052" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Desmond Doig</a> painted it in My Kind of Kathmandu. The Gurkhas have built a modern cottage next door, a park commemorates mountaineers killed in Nepal, and along the ridge Thai’s memorial garden overlooks the 1992 crash site, a sombre reminder of past disasters.In <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/27/a-month-that-felt-like-a-year/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2015 the earthquakes</a> destroyed the old bungalow at Kakani, and British safety regulations forced its dismemberment. The next chapter of its long history awaits to be written.

Lisa Choegyal

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No lovelier spot than Kakani

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ac69c7e80680e045936jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="472"/><figcaption>Boris and Inger Lisanevitch at Kathmandu Airport in 1962.</figcaption></figure>The early foreign investors in Nepal may have been an eccentric and colourful bunch, but they did understand international tourism. As guests in this country, they realised that nurturing Nepali people, their culture and natural environment was both good for them and for their business. They left a legacy that still resonates in a very different tourism world today.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/join-us-on-land-boris,869">Boris Lisanevitch</a> converted a royal palace into a heritage hotel and introduced fancy foreign food and liquor. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Jim-Danisch-and-Barbara-Adams%20-passed-away-this-month,3007">Barbara Adams</a> promoted world heritage sites and princely visits. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/hiking-with-jimmy/">Col Jimmy Roberts</a> (pictured below, right) invented trekking and supported mountaineering to employ Sherpas and share the mountains that he loved. John Coapman, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828#.XJRbyMkza71">Jim Edwards</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Charles-McDougal-passes-away-at-86,3034">Chuck McDougal</a> brought global attention to Chitwan’s wildlife with the creation of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/fire-in-the-afternoon-tiger-tops,846">Tiger Tops Jungle Lodge</a>.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ac89c7e80680e045937jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="211" height="182">Conveniently coinciding with their personal business interests, these resourceful pioneers knew a thing or two about what was needed to attract high paying visitors to adventure amidst Nepal’s natural and cultural wonders.In those days it was not so easy, but with imagination and resolve the rich and famous were lured to the remote and mysterious Hindu kingdom, and tourist dollars started seeping into the economy. Boris’ eclectic guests included Queen Sophia of Spain, Agatha Christie, Ingmar Bergman and Jean Paul Belmondo, and ordinary tourists followed. Air travel was ponderous, roads were scarce and communications were basic -– we relied on telex, telegrams and an unreliable crackly telephone line for reservations when I first arrived in 1974.Despite all that, Nepal became a fashionable, sought after spot for American and European vacationers. Often staying weeks and returning annually, most of our Mountain Travel trekkers headed to the hills for seldom less than 14 days and often for a month at a time. Tiger Tops did not accept guests for less than three nights, and the price of $300 per person (yes, US$600 per room) included all meals and jungle activities, but not drinks from the bar. It must have been one of the higher room rates in 1970s Asia, especially as we lay deep in the forest constructed of local wood, bamboo and thatch.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ac99c7e80680e045938jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="523" height="740">Solar electricity came later, but the naturalist-guided Chitwan excursions with elephants, rhinos and tigers was considered a ‘must do’ component of South Asian tourism.Our mainstream business at the lodge in Chitwan was around-the-world US groups, mostly blue-rinse ladies spending their husband’s inheritance accompanied by competent, world-weary tour guides. In my guest relations role, I grew used to answering the same questions nightly but, if I was lucky, all the tables were filled and I got to eat on the bench by the elephant tusk bar with Chuck and the Nepali naturalists.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2acb9c7e80680e045939png.png" alt="" width="733" height="732"><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2012/11/07/han-suyin-took-nepal-to-the-world/">Celebrities</a> and superstars were regular visitors, enjoying their privacy in the undisturbed mountains and jungles of Nepal, and enthusiastic media coverage further established Nepal as the adventure of choice. Actors, writers, mountaineers, politicians and royalty flocked to sample Nepal’s unique diversity and sublime scenery.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2acd9c7e80680e04593ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="768" height="948"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>At the other end of the spectrum, the era’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/the-hippie-era-in-kathmandu,837">flower-power hippies</a> gravitated to Freak Street and Phewa Tal seeking spiritual enlightenment in clouds of legally available ganja whilst haggling over the price of omelettes and apple pie. Forerunners of today’s budget backpackers, hippies played a significant role in publicising Nepal’s tourism image, until their visas evaporated prior to King Birendra’s coronation in 1975.A healthy holiday destination delivers to a variety of different types of tourists, from the cheap world-travellers willing to rough it, to high paying clients cossetted in luxury, with domestic visitors an important part of the mix. Since the insurgency knocked international tourism down to half its normal volume, Nepal has struggled to regain its reputation as a quality destination, or to develop new ‘authentic experiential’ hip trips to appeal to high spenders and trendy millenials.Tourism recovery since the 2015 earthquakes has been impressive in term of numbers, but our 1.2 million arrivals last year are mainly from cost-conscious neighbours and regional visitors who prefer the same parts of the country as were popular when I first arrived: Kathmandu, Pokhara, Chitwan, Lumbini, Annapurna and Sagarmatha.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2acf9c7e80680e04593bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1499" height="1049"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The innate hospitality of the Himalayan people of Nepal is well suited to looking after guests, but uncontrolled tourism will become resented by locals who already complain that hordes of budget travellers and pilgrims leave little but trash.<a href="https://www.welcomenepal.com/">Visit Nepal Year 2020</a> is looming and the emphasis is on the number of arrivals rather than their ability to contribute cash. We have more and more tourists coming every year, but spending less and less during their stay. To redress this balance, we need to lure back the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Tiger-tops-and-high-value-tourism,1087">high value</a> markets by improving the array and quality of services, and developing some persuasive experiences branching out beyond the same old circuits.The <a href="https://investmentsummitnepal.com/">Nepal Investment Summit</a> is an opportunity to inspire courageous and innovative investors from both home and abroad, reassuring potential promoters that Nepal’s rich resources are ripe for responsible tourism development and that the country’s investment climate is conducive.Perhaps we should allow the original investors to have the last word. “After a few hours I fell madly in love with this country,” Boris declared in a 1961 interview.“I’d rather handle half as many tourists with each spending twice as much,” was Jim Edwards’ mantra. And Jimmy Roberts used to rue: “Why are we selling our beautiful mountains so cheap?”

Early investors didn’t sell Nepal short

<figure><img width="1452" height="925" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904549c7e80680e037d18jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Tiger Tops during the Coapman era c 1965 showing only four top rooms in the simal bungalow, and staff dressed in military-style uniforms.</figcaption></figure>Mette Rolff’s Nordic blond hair was pulled back neat against the nape of her neck as she gazed across the Copenhagen skyline from her apartment window. “I loved the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/one-day-of-life-in-the-jungle-chitwan,1005" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chitwan jungle</a>, but it was a trying time.” She smiled evasively, but the understatement did not hide the pain behind her eyes. “But life has moved on, let’s not dwell on those days.” Turning to me she crossed her delicate ankles and once again blocked the conversation, shying away from sharing any indiscretions with her young visitor.I was visiting Denmark ostensibly to promote Nepal, but was hoping to glean from Mette more about her time in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/back-to-Chitwan,1075" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chitwan</a> during the early 1960s, married to John Coapman, the Indian-born son of American missionaries who had first built <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Conservation-and-tourism-Chitwan-National-Park,2957" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tiger Tops</a> Hotel, as it was then called. Never having met him, I had a shadowy image of a big blustery man with a rifle slung across his shoulders, a sort of South Asian Hemingway figure without the charm or the writing.How did this stylish slender old lady, dressed in soft tweed and pastel cashmere against the summer evening chill, come to spend several years in a remote rhinoceros sanctuary and Rana hunting reserve in southern Nepal? I wasn’t getting very far. Graciously hospitable in her modest cosy home, and helpful with travel agents and media contacts, in lilting Danish cadence Mette made it clear that her colourful private life was off limits. <figure><img width="250" height="191" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904579c7e80680e037d19jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There were many gaps in the story but it seemed pretty glamorous to me, a wide-eyed twenty-something, curious about the eccentric cast of expatriate characters that composed Nepal’s tourism history. Rumour and innuendo featured a dramatic and clandestine escape from an abusive and jealous husband. The narrative went that Mette had to sneak off to Kathmandu airport and freedom carrying only a small handbag so as not to raise the choleric Coapman’s turbulent suspicions – with a casual wave that she was “off shopping”, trembling she walked away from her entire Nepal life.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Obituary/Inger-Lissanevitch,886" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Inger Lisanevitch</a>, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/join-us-on-land-boris,869" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Boris</a>’s Danish wife, provided illicit support and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2018/01/26/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Elizabeth Hawley</a> was a lifelong admirer. She was running Tiger Tops’ Kathmandu office for Coapman. “There were so few people around it was easy for me to help him out-- he was a ‘difficult’ man”. Elizabeth’s fingers made the quotation marks. “Mette was wonderful, the poor thing.” Elizabeth had no time for the CIA conspiracies that clung to Coapman, nor his boast that King Mahendra had died in his arms whilst on shikar in Chitwan. <figure><img width="808" height="958" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904589c7e80680e037d1ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is hard to imagine what life must have been like for Mette, alone and allegedly confined to the staff bungalow whilst her bullying husband constructed the Africa-inspired conical roof of the main lodge and the first four treetop bedrooms in a spreading silk cotton tree.Two Dallas oil millionaires with a penchant for big game hunting, Toddy Lee Wynne Jr. and Herbert W. Klein, had found the Chitwan site whilst out shooting tiger with their ‘white hunter’ guide John Coapman, and contracted him to make it happen.Smooth river stones were collected for the floor, and wood, bamboo and grass were cut from the forest for walls and thatched roofs. Set in a clearing overlooking the Reu River near the Rapti confluence, from her locked room on a fine day the Himalayan peaks shimmered on the horizon but at night the dense jungle din must have been daunting. <figure><img width="283" height="210" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/6369045b9c7e80680e037d1bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>How John and Mette came to be married in the first place is a missing chapter of the tale, but by November 1965 they received the first Tiger Tops guests, five Americans, who landed on the grass airstrip of Meghauli in a chartered Royal Nepal Airlines DC-3. Early photos show military-style uniforms, with guns, kukris and lances carried by shikari guides and elephant drivers to ward off the perceived threat from fierce wild creatures.The story switches to a cold evening in a New York brown stone at the 1971 annual dinner of the Explorers Club in East 70th Street, and a chance meeting between the Texan owners and AV <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828#.W4UORc4zaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jim Edwards</a>, a former banker and Pan Am salesman with the gift of the gab and a fledgling hunting company in Nepal. Tired of their errant and unreliable manager Coapman’s colonial fantasies, fuzzy truths and a business reeling with debt, Jim persuaded the two Texans that he and his business partner <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/Tigerman-tiger,930" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chuck McDougal</a> were perfectly placed to take over the ailing management and realise their dream of creating Nepal’s pioneer wildlife tourism venture, in return for part ownership. The deal was done.Jim’s selective memory and talent for exaggeration has probably embellished accounts of the Tiger Tops Nepal takeover, but after that conversation in New York, John Coapman was fired, leaving death threats and unpaid bills in his wake. Mette had long gone. <figure><img width="663" height="946" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/6369045c9c7e80680e037d1cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Jim liked to say that the new management took off “with a roar”. With no communication system to alert the Chitwan staff, Jim, Chuck and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/remembering-Elizabeth-Hawley,1112" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Elizabeth Hawley</a> arrived in February 1972 unannounced and on foot, walking miles along jungle tracks, wading rivers, and carrying a case full of cash to salvage the situation. There is no doubt they found a sorry spectacle of starving elephants, unpaid salaries, broken vehicles and crumbling buildings. Jim claimed that food was so short on that first visit that they had to share a tiger’s kill.John Coapman never again reappeared in Nepal and so was unable to defend his dubious legacy that faded into uncertain legend, even as Tiger Tops prospered. But we all stayed in touch with the much-loved Mette and her elegant but precarious life in Europe. She did not return either, but there were intriguing whispers about a generous English Duke and other Danish dalliances. But I never dared to ask.

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Pilgrimage to Copenhagen

<h5>Through their enthusiastic lenses, nature film-makers introduced Nepal to a global audience</h5> <img width="640" height="489" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710118/6368cb009c7e80680e02f349jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Götz Dieter Plage (above) drove into our lives in one of those iconic early Range Rovers, a red one if I remember right, bristling with all the latest gadgets. His arrival in Nepal heralded a decade-long partnership with our Tiger Tops team and UK’s <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/media/2001/jan/30/broadcasting1">Survival Anglia</a> television, making a series of wildlife documentaries throughout South Asia.With lush brown hair and a brow wrinkled with seriousness, Dieter was an earnest German wildlife cameraman, much respected by his peers. Based in Chitwan in a synergistic deal brokered by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828#.Wt1GGhuFO71">Jim Edwards</a>, Dieter experimented with the latest 1970s technology for innovative filmmaking in the wild –night scopes, image intensifiers, motor drives, steady cams, and even a single-engine aircraft.Fresh from filming in Africa, he regaled us with hair-raising stories about close encounters with endangered animals, charging gorillas and marauding hippos. Around the circular river-stone fireplace of a Lodge evening, he laughed loudly at his own jokes before retiring early to tinker with his equipment. In 1977 this pedantic loner surprised us by turning up with a wife (Mary from Norwich always known as “Sweetie Pie”) who faithfully followed Dieter’s peripatetic and obsessive shooting schedule with doe-eyed devotion. <figure><img width="640" height="409" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710118/6368cb039c7e80680e02f34ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure> The facilities at <a href="http://www.tigertops.com/">Tiger Tops</a> were the perfect base for Survival’s team which typically took over two years to complete their carefully crafted one-hour documentaries.Dieter’s long-term camera assistants came in different shapes and sizes, becoming an integral part of our Chitwan routine – a short stocky one was a special friend of mine and a tall bearded one married my sister.All displayed an infectious commitment to the natural world and went to great lengths to capture rare and authentic footage, sitting for days in canvas hides, hours on elephant back, or perched all night on a tree branch.www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIbAY44PN_oThrough their enthusiastic lenses, the secret splendours of the forest and wilderness were exquisitely revealed to a television audience of millions. Conservation concerns were a recurrent theme - tigers and rhinos in Chitwan, leopards in <a href="http://www.dudhwanationalpark.in/about-dudhwa-park.php">Dudhwa</a> and elephants in Sri Lanka.Mike Price was a balding and bouncy Brit, diminutive and dedicated. Night after night he sat in the camouflaged machan set high on the ridge beside a tiger-likely trail, waiting with his camera ready. Each morning he would return for breakfast, weary and despondent - until the day when he appeared, still gasping and hopping with excitement. It was May, and his bare legs were caked in sweat and dust, the heavy camera case slung across his khaki shoulders.When he had calmed down enough for us to understand him, Mike described the thrill of a tiger appearing silently out of the grass on the path below him - “stripes that moved” in the dawn light. At last, patience rewarded. It was a young male, and with the camera running he realised with some alarm that the purring sound was making it curious – the striped ears flickered with interest as it advanced up the bank. Mike had to remove the camera from the tripod as the tiger came closer and closer, until its face was peering through the slit window of the hide, separated only by a flimsy wall of canvas. <figure><img width="640" height="439" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710118/6368cb059c7e80680e02f34bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Even though primeval instinctual terror made his heart race, Mike had the presence of mind to keep the camera going, his hands shaking. “I was deafened by my own heartbeats,” he said later. In a career of close shaves in the jungle, this unsteady sequence became the centrepiece of Tiger Tiger, one of the first films to document the behaviour of these noble and elusive nocturnal cats.As Mike recounted the story to us from the safety of the Tiger Tops breakfast table, luckily for him the young tiger decided discretion was the better part of curiosity, and moved on.In return for logistic support and movies to share with our guests and staff, the partnership with Survival Anglia gave Nepal conservation credibility and accessed global groups such as the Audubon Society, Frankfurt Zoo and Zoological Society of London.David Attenborough came, the BBC Natural History Unit and National Geographic. The integrity and international standing of Nepal’s wildlife conservation programme was secured.  <figure><img width="640" height="409" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710118/6368cb089c7e80680e02f34cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Smithsonian Institution’s long-term tiger monitoring project used Chuck McDougal and Tiger Tops’ trackers to pioneer camera trapping and radio collaring techniques, Prince Bernhard of the Netherlands brought members of his 1001 Club of WWF donors as the guests of then-Prince Gyanendra, and Sir Peter Scott “launched” the first gharial back into the Narayani River, reared by the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation to reinstate this threatened fish-eating crocodile. The first batch of gharial eggs was hatched in my bedroom, the white translucent orbs packed into a warm wet sandbox, before the crocodile breeding centre was set up at Kasara park headquarters.In a poignant footnote, exactly 25 years ago this month Dieter Plage was killed in a horrific accident, plunging 50m through the canopy of a remote Sumatran rainforest. Hovering above the trees, he was suspended below a small airship in an adapted camera platform when his safety harness failed -- a victim of his own inventive commitment to share the glories of Asia’s natural world.Read Also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/son-of-the-famous,945">Sons of the famous</a>, Lisa Choegyal<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Charles-McDougal-passes-away-at-86,3034">Charles McDougal</a>, Lisa Choegyal<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/bardiya-beginnings-Lisa-Choegyal,1085">Bardiya beginnings</a> ,Lisa Choegyal

Survival survivors

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible While premium beauty product outlets were closing during the Covid-19 pandemic, two young women gambled on setting up a new skin and haircare brand with natural ingredients mostly sourced from Nepal and suited for the Nepali complexion. Arushree Sharma Khatiwada and Megha Agarwal were batchmates in school before they left for studies abroad, returning to set up Avani Nepal after year-long rigorous research into ayurveda-based cosmetic products. Avani in Sanskrit means ‘earth’, and as the name suggests it is committed to bringing all natural, pure and authentic range of beauty solutions.&nbsp; “We found a gap in the Nepali market demand for cosmetics, which is why we decided on a brand sourced from all-natural Himalayan herbs that are not used or explored properly,” says co-founder Khatiwada.&nbsp; Nepal is a treasure trove for medicinal plants and those with therapeutic properties. After all, legend has it that Hanuman flew right across the subcontinent from Sri Lanka to the Himalaya to find a rare medicinal plant to save the life of Lord Ram, who was wounded in battle. When he could not find the specific plant, he tore off a whole mountain and brought it down. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/looking-good-by-doing-good">Looking good by doing good</a>, Sudiksha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314120356_32323fd084540236fe4edb3b98286c131d67c73310279c8038510da1e1ae1bc0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260314120356_32323fd084540236fe4edb3b98286c131d67c73310279c8038510da1e1ae1bc0" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="2012" loading="lazy" alt="Avani"> </figure>  Medicinal plants in Nepal range from yarsagumba to jatamasi and 500 other species traditionally used in the Ayurveda as well as now in the wellness industry. Avani is also trying to experiment hibiscus, Himalayan honey and other plants to eventually launch an export drive. Running a business in Nepal is no easy task, especially for small scale locally crafted products but in a few years, Avani has ammased loyal customer base and have many repeat customers. “While it was tricky initially, we were determined to launch our products with the best quality ingredients and in an affordable price range,” says Khatiwada. Following a worldwide trend and emulating the method used by Korean cosmetic brands, Avani has deployed celebrities and influencers to increase its outreach through tikTok , Facebook and YouTube. &nbsp;Actresses Barsha Shiwakoti and Shilpa Maskey and makeup artists like Lemi have reviewed their products favourably. Sutainability is a big part of the brand, and Avani uses glass bottles, cardboard boxes, paper bags for all its products. Plastic use is cut to a minimum, and where used is recycled.&nbsp; “Many people think that sustainable brands are expensive, we want to bust that myth,” Khatiwada told us. “We focus on being eco-friendly using ethically sourced materials that are paraben, silicon, and cruelty free.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/proud-to-wear-dolpo">Proud to wear DOLPO</a>, Vishad Raj Onta  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314120356_da0d7d4082a9aa51c96ecbcb8a2e7a5bc60e27de202fb339a522036aa3f50b49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260314120356_da0d7d4082a9aa51c96ecbcb8a2e7a5bc60e27de202fb339a522036aa3f50b49" data-rendition-name="original" width="1048" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Avani"> </figure>  Avani has expanded its business to get a toehold in Nepal’s tourism and wellness industry, and the products are carried by spas in leading hotels and resorts in Kathmandu and Pokhara such as the Terraces, Marriott, and Kavya resort, and is in talk with the Hideaway Resort in Pokhara.&nbsp; The skin and haircare brand that initially started with 10 products has since expanded its line to 60 with goods placed in more than 100 stores across Kathmandu. Plans are in the works to expand to India, China and in Japan partnering with Okada. Avani Nepal’s founders say that they support empowerment through employment and training opportunities for women at the company. Khatiwada herself has been engaged with organisations such as Nepal Women Chamber of Commerce, and Nepal Youth Entrepreneur Forum. Additional support from the government such as the provision of lower excise duties has helped but guidance for export and other business regulations is as crucial. Such an environment would also foster opportunities for the youth who are otherwise moving away for jobs or study abroad. “While everyone is trying to go abroad, opportunities can be created here in Nepal itself, with adequate support from the government,” says Khatiwada. “In the meantime, we are eyeing for long term benefits. We are trying to create a legacy for cosmetic brands in Nepal.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/java-in-the-himalaya-y1ilc21h">Java in the Himalaya</a>, Vishad Raj Onta

Redefining the criteria for beauty

- High Court employee Amrita KC fulfilled her duties as a polling officer in Nepalganj on election day, with her six-month-old daughter held in her arms.&nbsp; - The same morning in Kathmandu-1, RSP candidate Ranju Neupane appeared at the polling station to cast her vote with her 10-day-old baby. The next day, she became the first candidate declared a winner by the Election Commission. Her party won a supermajority and will now be tasked with reforms in governance, development, the economy, and service delivery. At least four of the winning RSP candidates are doctors, and the party must fulfil its campaign promise of improving healthcare access across Nepal. Among the lowest-ranking region for healthcare indicators in Nepal is Madhes Province. Across the districts of Madhes and Karnali, where maternal and neonatal health outcomes remain poorer than in the rest of the nation, local governments in collaboration with non-profits, have financed and facilitated the operation of birthing centres where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-haemorrhaging-nurses">nurses are lifelines</a> for pregnant women, new mothers, and newborn babies.&nbsp; At the Inarwari birthing centre in Rautahat district, nurse midwife Manisha Kushwaha gently applies ultrasound gel on the abdomen of 28-year-old Robina Khatun who is having a sonogram in the first trimester.&nbsp; Kushwaha glides the transducer over Khatun’s belly before pronouncing her baby healthy. She will later send the ultrasound machine for the municipality’s monthly mobile sonogram program in a neighbouring village.&nbsp; Ministry of Health and Population guidelines recommend that pregnant people make eight antenatal care (ANC) visits to health posts before their delivery date. Expecting mothers are also provided Rs800 for the eight visits and travel costs according to geographical region. In Baudhimai, the local government provides more incentives: 10 eggs for non-vegetarian and protein powder for vegetarian mothers-to-be per visit. The municipality also provides free ambulance service for pregnant women, and conducts a monthly mobile sonogram program across all communities.&nbsp; The initiatives of local governments, health officials, non-profits, and volunteers have meant that institutional deliveries here have increased drastically. In Rautahat, institutional deliveries have increased from 50% to 68% in four years, according to figures from the non-profit One Heart Worldwide that works to improve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-lagging-in-safe-motherhood">maternal and neonatal health</a> outcomes arcoss Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020352_a3f66142aa6a0333b78d82cd5520b1818633a580885232c10625572e014b1b15.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260314020352_a3f66142aa6a0333b78d82cd5520b1818633a580885232c10625572e014b1b15" data-rendition-name="original" width="1034" height="650" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  “Home deliveries have completely stopped in Inarwari, and women are increasingly accessing ante-natal and post-natal care, as well as family planning measures,” says Manisha Kushwaha. “Women and families here are now more aware of maternal and neonatal healthcare.” One of them is Noor Jahan Khatun, who had her first baby at home and gave birth to her second child at the local birthing centre despite wanting another home birth. When the due date for her third child came around, she walked to the health post herself.&nbsp; “I realised it is much better to give birth at the hospital,” Noor, who is pregnant with her fourth child, told us. “They have everything we need in case of complications.” The nursing staff at the birthing centre, as well as other centres in the municipality also periodically review their training in the birthing simulation room set up on the premises of the Inarwari birthing centre so that they retain their training and continue to hone their skills. Over in Sarlahi’s Sundarpur in Chakraghatta Rural Municipality, a state-of-the-art birthing centre now stands adjacent to the derelict old structure from which nurses previously had to provide services.&nbsp; The new and improved maternity ward was built last year with Rs2.4 million from the municipality and a Rs2 million from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/what-can-be-more-fulfilling-than-saving-lives">One Heart Worldwide</a> under a cost-sharing public-private partnership formula.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_4e7f71b535541d56d267baa6f2656faf008b7e98cc16da0042253f4c0db3eeb7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260312120328_4e7f71b535541d56d267baa6f2656faf008b7e98cc16da0042253f4c0db3eeb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> <figcaption>Sundarpur birthing centre in Sarlahi built through the collaboration of the local government and One Heart Worldwide.</figcaption> </figure>  Chief nurse Sunita Rai has been stationed here for the last six years, and looks at the old building. “I remember when we had to deliver babies while ankle-deep in flood water during monsoon,” recalls Rai. “This new facility and the equipment have improved service.”&nbsp; Since the start of the fiscal year, the six-nurse team at Sundarpur has delivered more than 140 babies. One day last month, a national holiday, the centre was quieter than usual, with just two women waiting for delivery.&nbsp; But fewer-than-usual patients does not mean there is no work to be done. In the afternoon, nurses make the rounds of the community to conduct post-natal care visits, and to keep track of how the new mothers and babies in the village are doing. This is important because neonatal mortality of babies within the first month of birth is still high. “For the people in this village we are both the doctor and the nurse,” Rai says matter-of-factly as she walks towards the village to see a new mother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020352_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260314020352_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027" data-rendition-name="original" width="790" height="542" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  In Sarlahi's Laxmipur Kodraha, Kanchan Rai makes her own rounds, calling out to several young children playing in the pale afternoon sun. Rai has been stationed in Laxmipur for 10 years and delivered most of those children playing outside herself. A beloved member of the community, Rai is greeted by several women and invited in for tea and snacks as she walks by. The Laxmipur birthing centre has seen major renovations to make it more spacious, better equipped, and hygienic. Mothers now have more privacy, especially from men who in the past would simply barge in wanting to know which woman from the village was about to give birth.&nbsp; “We deliver 400 babies on average every year,” Rai says. “There have been zero home births in this village for the last five years, and women are increasingly accessing maternal healthcare and family planning services.” Institutional deliveries in Sarlahi have gone up from 37% to 71% over the past five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020348_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260314020348_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac" data-rendition-name="original" width="359" height="329" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  Pregnant women who require C-sections, or those who experience complications during pregnancies, are referred to the nearest provincial hospitals in Gaur or Malangwa. “Community-based awareness programs about going for hospital visits have helped reduce home deliveries, and counselling sessions provided to new mothers at provincial hospitals have contributed to better maternal and neonatal health outcomes,” says Sachin Yadav, obstetrician-gynaecologist at Malangwa Provincial Hospital. SAFE MOTHERHOOD Newborns with birth asphyxia, tachycardia, meconium aspiration syndrome and other complications are admitted to the special newborn care unit at the Gaur Provincial Hospital. But Apsana Khatun, chief nurse at the hospital’s maternal and neonatal unit says: “We have not been able to provide neo-natal care as effectively because we do not have an NICU.”&nbsp; Provincial hospitals provide life-saving services, but remain underfunded and in need of life-saving equipment. At the Gaur Hospital, Rukmini Kumari Shah gently rocks her three-day-old son, who was admitted to the special newborn care unit due to birth asphyxia and dehydration.&nbsp; “I have not even been able to think of a name for him,” says the 25-year-old. “My other two children were born normal but I worry for this one.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_2736dbc7660fdb60d928df22b387d084a244607126567e5cbf37235177d1ac3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260312120328_2736dbc7660fdb60d928df22b387d084a244607126567e5cbf37235177d1ac3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> <figcaption>Gaur Provincial Hospital.</figcaption> </figure>  This is where the election pledge of the RSP will be tested. Will the new government cut through the bureaucracy, corruption and resource constraints to provide life-saving services to mothers and babies in places like Rautahat and Sarlahi? There has been no maternal mortality at the Malangwa Provincial Hospital for the last two years, but the hospital has had neonatal deaths. “We need more spacious waiting areas and training for maternal and neonatal healthcare workers,” says Sachin Yadav. “Without that we are unable to serve our patients and have to send them to Kathmandu or Birganj.” In Baudhimai village, patient numbers have increased by 140% in the last three years, but the federal government slashed the health budget by 60%. The government across three levels is supposed to provide 98 types of essential medicine free of cost at primary healthcare centres, but the federal and provincial governments often fail to make their share of the drugs available.&nbsp; “Federal and especially provincial governments have been irresponsible when it comes to investing in local healthcare,” says Baudhimai mayor Pradeep Kumar Yadav. Health workers and institutions continue to work without being paid or funded when the budget remains frozen for months at a time. “It does not matter to a patient when the fiscal year begins,” says Sachin Yadav at the Malangwa Provincial Hospital. “Maternal deaths do not wait for the budget to be released.” And despite budget constraints, political posturing still continues. At local levels, officials build multiple birthing centres in each ward when one would suffice, and these buildings remain empty.&nbsp; Politics also plays a significant role in whether or not local officials are willing to agree when health officials try to refer pregnancy-related complications to better-equipped facilities. And while services have improved due to the efforts of dedicated healthcare officials, they are transferred from one place to another at the whim of governments that come and go, which means staff turnover in these institutions is very high, affecting consistent service delivery. &nbsp; Yadav has been at Malangwa for three years— during which yearly institutional deliveries have gone from 2,000 to 3,200 and C-section births have gone from 150 to 700. He had just begun to hit his stride at the hospital when he received transfer letters to another hospital.&nbsp; So far, he has managed to hold on to his position in Malangwa, but he does not know how long he will be able to delay the transfer. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Tackling patriarchy</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260312120328_7df47f32c19a10cd59efbd7e2639a1b719bd4f6ca50bfa24189c8ecc65f21d09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260312120328_7df47f32c19a10cd59efbd7e2639a1b719bd4f6ca50bfa24189c8ecc65f21d09" data-rendition-name="original" width="1850" height="3000" loading="lazy" alt="maternal health"> </figure>  Nepal has made dramatic progress in reducing the maternal mortality rate (MMR) from 539 per 100,000 births to 142 over the past 30 years. But that is the national average. MMR is still high in parts of Nepal where access to healthcare and adoption of health services are not as extensive. One reason is that despite birthing centres and awareness of pre- and post-natal healthcare, s<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-slaughter-of-our-daughters">ocio-cultural norms in a patriarchal society</a> also mean that female literacy remains low, and the rate of underage marriage is high.&nbsp; Rautahat has the lowest literacy rate in Nepal, and the lowest female literacy rate. This has a direct correlation with its its fertility and maternal mortality rates. Gaur Hospital continues to see maternal and intrauterine fetal death (IUFD) deaths due to a lack of ANC visits by patients. In the absence of education and information, socio-cultural misconceptions still persist. Women refuse to take essential pre-natal medication like folic acid because they think it will affect their babies’ complexion, and do not eat enough fruits because they believe it will cause fetal pneumonia.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260314020348_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260314020348_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856" data-rendition-name="original" width="377" height="367" loading="lazy" alt="Motherhood in Madhes"> </figure>  Women are also expected to get through their pregnancies without going for health check ups in keeping with the tradition of their mothers and mothers-in-law enduring pregnancy and childbirth at home without access to healthcare. Maternal and neonatal health outcomes are also affected by child marriage, as well as the patriarchy-enforced preference of a male child in the family.&nbsp; At Gaur Provincial Hospital, 25-year-old Asha Kumari stands with her hands braced against the hospital bed as she is gripped by a contraction. Her eldest child is already 12, and she is at the hospital to have her fifth baby.&nbsp; “She had already had two children by the time she was 18,” explains her mother, who is here with Asha’s mother-in-law. &nbsp; Officials worry that reporting instances of child marriage might mean that women no longer trust health workers and hospitals, and stop accessing healthcare altogether. They insist that investment in maternal health needs to be accompanied by socio-cultural interventions. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FtVA--CRk3nM%3Fsi%3DJtFs6cwqOhJua9NI&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>

Motherhood in the Madhes

Nepal’s new political wave has been described in many ways: a generational shift, a technocratic shift, a shift in ideas, and a shift in political behaviour. Young leaders now sit in Parliament, many with international education and policy experience.
But amid this excitement, a quieter truth risks getting lost: this political transformation is also the ascent of people who, until recently, were the grassroots themselves.
For the first time, many of the people now sitting in government are not distant elites. They are people I have marched with, argued with, worked with, and been inspired by for more than a decade.
They are people who once stood ankle‑deep in floodwaters, not in front of press conferences. As optimism rises around the new government, we must not forget that the climate crisis has not slowed down. 
The monsoon is at our doorstep again. And if the disasters from previous years taught us anything, it is that climate impacts do not wait for political transitions. And our mountains and rivers do not care who sits in Singha Darbar.
What is different this time is who holds power.
During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">September 2024 floods in Kathmandu</a>, the first responders were not the state or development machinery. It was ordinary young people. A loosely formed WhatsApp network coordinated everything from dispatching mountain bikers to landslide‑stranded areas, to pooling relief supplies, to delivering materials to army bases for airlifting. These were citizens acting out of necessity, not mandate.
Many from that very network are now part of the government. As I have argued before in Nepali Times, top‑down climate responses in Nepal have always been too little, too late, and too disconnected from lived experience. The only proven path is bottom‑up, community-led adaptation where those who face the risks daily shape the solutions. 
International research backs this: community-based adaptation has been central to success stories from Bangladesh’s cyclone shelters to Vietnam’s mangrove restoration to the Philippines’ barangay disaster committees. The world has repeatedly learned that resilience grows from the ground up, not the top down.
RARE MOMENT
Nepal now has a rare political moment where people with lived experience of crisis sit in positions of authority. The real test is whether this lived experience becomes policy and immediate action.
The expectation should not be that these new leaders deliver because of their degrees. It should be because they remember where they come from and use their privilege to strengthen and fund local institutions, networks and people who kept this country functioning long before governments did.
The monsoon that starts in June will test the government’s commitment to governing from the bottom up. Will these new leaders govern the way they once volunteered — listening first, acting fast, improvising where needed, and involving those closest to the danger? Or will the weight of the state push them back toward the familiar comfort of top‑down plans and consultant reports?
The challenges are complex. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu" target="_blank">Climate change is driving displacement</a>, deepening poverty, and exacerbating gendered vulnerabilities. Climate adaptation, therefore, needs cross-sectoral solutions that understand how these issues intersect.
Long-term transformation is essential. Our major cities like Kathmandu desperately need a future where rivers are protected instead of mined, where an urban forest cools our heat‑trapping city, and where mobility focuses on sustainability, not just shiny EVs. Our mountain villages and terai lowlands deserve a community resilient to climate impacts, with livelihoods protected.
These require years of work. But immediate, life-saving measures cannot wait.
Will the government finally rein in the sand mining and quarrying upstream of the Rosi and Nakkhu Khola? Will someone sit down with the communities on the riverbanks and listen to the early warning signs they’ve learned through pain? Will climate adaptation be prioritised amidst political noise and competing crises?
Or will we find ourselves, yet again, mourning damage that could have been prevented? I have been inspired by many of the individuals now in government — they questioned old hierarchies, challenged worn‑out norms, and believed that things could be done differently. 
But while the faces in Parliament have changed, the bureaucracy has not. Development organisations and civil society groups have not. And those systems are slow: too slow for the speed at which our climate is changing.
So something has to give. And that shift must begin with remembering where this political movement came from: the grassroots. Those now in power must not forget the urgency they once carried in their bones. They cannot forget the feeling of wading into murky floodwater, holding a bag of rice over their heads. 
And it is our responsibility — mine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/turning-green-policies-into-greenbacks" target="_blank">as a writer</a>, yours as a reader, and ours as citizens — to remind them. The real spark for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/measuring-climate-impact-on-culture-and-heritage" target="_blank">climate action</a> comes from personal stories of loss, fear, survival, and solidarity. And suddenly, those stories are no longer outside the halls of government. They are inside.
The question is no longer whether our leaders understand the stakes. They do. They lived it. The real question, as the skies grow heavier again, is this: What will we do with this moment?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu">Rastra Raj Bhandari</a> is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change.

Soon, the monsoon

The sense of sight is front, centre, and everywhere else as hundreds of eyes follow visitors while they move from one painting to the next at Nikhil Bahadur Shakya’s ongoing exhibition at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Shakya has used blank canvases as well as partially-done thangka and paintings as a base for more than 50 works on display. The exhibit takes visitors beyond the physical world into a surreal spiritual realm. Shakya strips the human body down to muscle, tendon, networks of nerves, and skeleton. But all the while, eyes are a constant presence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Artist Nikhil Bahadur Shakya with a visitor.</figcaption> </figure>  The central theme is self-reflection and the journey from one’s outward to inward self, and the works offer a glimpse into the artist’s world of mindfulness.&nbsp; Shakya grew up watching his artisan grandfather design jewellery, which he says cultivated in him an interest for art. During the Covid-19 pandemic, confronted by the fragility of life and the stark reality of death, his art took an introspective turn. The paintings have splashes of neon yellow, pink, red, orange, green, and gold, and Shakya combines them with black and white to create the human body, sunflowers, geometrical shapes, and the cosmos — turning these motifs into elements of devotion and spirituality. In Wheel of Life, Shakya adds to an incomplete thangka, contrasting traditional Buddhist devotional imagery with contemporary mosaic art to create a demon holding on to a wheel with a yin and yang symbol.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Wheel of Life (centre)</figcaption> </figure>  “I wanted to reflect the elements of life and the balance of good and bad in this painting,” explains Shakya. “I took a lot of time to complete this particular piece, but it felt as though my vision flowed out of the brush onto the canvas.” The neon colours used means that visitors can see his artwork under blue light as well, giving viewers a chance to look at a single artwork from two different perspectives. His Sunflower series draws from a field of blossoms, and the eyes stare back at visitors in an almost-hypnotic gaze. In An Ancestral Visit, Shakya goes transcendental to depict the connection of living beings to their forebears.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1431" loading="lazy" alt="sunflower painting"> </figure>  “In my father’s last days, he was unwell and often unable to eat, it left his body very frail,” explains Shakya. “An Ancestral Visit was inspired by a dream in which I saw my father as his former healthy self. That dream made me feel deeply connected to my ancestors.” In another one of his works titled Devotion, a woman prays to a Shivalinga against a background of red-and-white stripes, which was inspired by the tradition of women being at the forefront during religious and spiritual ceremonies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="devotion"> <figcaption>Devotion</figcaption> </figure>  In Sunyata, which shows a skeletal figure meditating as they are surrounded by flames, Shakya captures the chaos of the outside world with peace of the inner self. Shakya was compelled to create Sunyata when he saw a monk, his body thin and face gaunt, meditating peacefully. “Many viewers might find the painting frightening, but when they take it home, I think it will give them strength whenever they feel like they need it,” says Shakya. The exhibit also includes a gigantic painting of Masan Bhairav spread across two canvases, capturing the majesty of the original work housed at Banepa’s Chandeswori Temple. Shakya met the artist who painted it, and asked to reproduce it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Geometric figures are another recurring motif on Shakya’s creations, which he says were inspired by mathematics textbooks from his school days. He says, “Art channels the strength of our minds and brings about change in our lives. My paintings reflect the fact that we are all made up of some madness, magic, and love.” Journey to a Visionary Artworld by Nikhil Bahadur Shakya Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Till 6 April 11AM-5PM

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