7:30pm Tuesday, 9 September.&nbsp; I was driving my daughter back from a relative’s house in Baneswar where she had taken refuge after a curfew was declared the previous day while she was in school. She was riding pillion on the back of my moped. We drove past Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">where 19 people had been killed by police </a>the previous day. We passed Thapathali, where the Kantipur highrise was on fire. The sky had gone dark, and the stinging smoke made it hard to breathe. A gas cylinder exploded, and the crowd dispersed briefly. The blast provided a moment to escape the raging mob. By myself I may not have been so scared, but my daughter’s safety made me more afraid. I had never been this frightened in my journalism career, even while covering the Maoist insurgency 20 years ago. At the Tripureswor intersection there were more angry crowds. The further we got from the epicentre of the GenZ demonstration, the more elderly the protesters looked. Many were muscular gentlemen with tattooed arms. Prime Minister K P Oli had just <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">resigned</a>, but the crowd was still chanting “के पी चोर, देश छोड”. Soon, we were surrounded by an enraged mob. &nbsp;My survival instinct took over, and I started shouting “के पी चोर” and my plucky daughter screamed from behind “देश छोड”. Father and daughter waved at the &nbsp;protesters, and gave them a thumbs up. &nbsp;We finally got home, scared and smelling of burning rubber and smoke.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031028_c5c04095cdb6f0b24cdc2cc60bf627f49c15e0cf9b509ad149df35a2e73e1d3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251007031028_c5c04095cdb6f0b24cdc2cc60bf627f49c15e0cf9b509ad149df35a2e73e1d3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September"> <figcaption>A building in Baneswar was damaged by protesters. </figcaption> </figure>  ARSON AND LOOTING I was born in the remote mountains of western Nepal in Rukum, the district that was the stronghold of the Maoist guerrillas after they launched an armed struggle in 1996. I moved to Kathmandu for higher studies, and as a student witnessed the popular uprising of 2006 against Gyanendra’s absolute monarchy. I have covered violence and chaos. I have been caught in the crossfire between the rebels and state security. I covered the violent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus">street protests</a> of the 2006 People’s Movement that ended the war, the Madhes movement and the Indian blockade of 2015.&nbsp; But never was I more scared than during the 30-minute drive home through the city with my daughter at the back of my moped.&nbsp; Last month’s protests were initially led by youth groups which had loosely banded together as GenZ to protest corruption and impunity. On 8 September, I drove to the Mandala in my trusty moped to cover the rally, some protesters were in school uniform. There was singing and chanting. Just before noon, a slightly older group of protesters peeled off from the sit-in in front of Everest Hotel, broke through the half-hearted police cordon and moved towards the intersection outside Parliament. Most of the original young demonstrators remained at the sit-in, while the grownup protesters who were clearly not a part of the GenZ, started to break the perimeter wall of the Parliament complex. The young protesters looked a bit confused about what to do next as they also neared the Parliament gates. Violence was not a part of their plan, and the infiltration had begun in earnest. A group of organised older rioters broke through the western wall, even as police were concentrated along the main south gate. These agitators seemed focused on a single mission: to burn down the Parliament building, and they went about it purposefully.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031032_1fcd474774c8e110e833485cf54a7e63e8c8388ec78c2b4d3ae6e830c203c183.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251007031032_1fcd474774c8e110e833485cf54a7e63e8c8388ec78c2b4d3ae6e830c203c183" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September NT"> <figcaption>Blood seen in Baneswar.</figcaption> </figure>  Too late, the police used water cannons to disperse those by the south gate. I went closer, my press card dangling from my neck. A tear gas canister whizzed past my head. I was not able to see clearly, and backed away to safety. The police opened fire at point blank range, killing 19 protesters. Hundreds of injured were carried to the nearby Civil Hospital. There are many video clips on social media of task force police kneeling, taking aim with SLR rifles and shooting, they show protesters being hit and falling. The riot police fled, and the Armed Police Force and Nepal Army soldiers came out, but remained close to the trucks that had transported them to the intersection. Seeing that the security forces were not stopping them, the crowd then went on an arson rampage — it became a free-for-all as government buildings were set on fire one after another. Most of the arsonists were not GenZ, they were in the mid-30s, and I heard many shouting slogans for the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/why-the-monarchy-still-sways-nepal-s-republic"> restoration of the monarchy</a>. Others were there simply to vandalise and loot. After having chased the police away from the Parliament building, they posted pictures and videos, having the run of the premises, instigating new arrivals to continue with the arson, and also brandishing looted automatic weapons. A curfew was declared, but this did not stop the rampage throughout that evening and into the night. Unable to return home, I spent the night in a friend’s office, and returned to the Parliament area the next morning. The black asphalt was dyed red with blood. Shoes, slippers and pieces of clothing littered the street. The next day, 9 September the much-feared and expected revenge attacks ignited. There was hope that the Army would be able to protect government buildings and provide public security, but the arson, vandalism and looting went unchecked — even when the seats of government were set on fire. The military did make an appearance, but only after 10pm to enforce the curfew, but by then the mob had already gone home.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031032_578cfa7c9e56f6ffcf1ca9b148e114a87b5332268cf97720584b70906823c074.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251007031032_578cfa7c9e56f6ffcf1ca9b148e114a87b5332268cf97720584b70906823c074" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September NT"> <figcaption>A protester receiving treatment at Civil Hospital.</figcaption> </figure>  That was the moment I asked myself: Where have the students gone? Has the GenZ movement been hijacked? I could not see any of the GenZ-ers anywhere on 9 September. It was around midday of 9 September that millennials, including from groups like Hami Nepal came forward to the media, claiming to speak for the GenZ. They claimed to have led the protests. Others claiming to be GenZ said they were for the restoration of the monarchy, but they did not look the age.&nbsp; Mobs were out of control, burning down the prime minister’s office, the Supreme Court, the CIAA and the official and private residences of ministers. Within 27 hours Nepal became a country without a government, and leaders without homes. Important official documents went up in flames with the buildings that housed them. PM Oli resigned, too late to save the day. The Army occupied itself airlifting ministers from their official residences. Former prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba and his wife foreign minister Arzu Rana Deuba were dragged out, beaten up and their home set on fire. They were rescued and taken to an army base. It became hard to tell over the next few days if the Army was providing them security, or keeping them incommunicado in detention. The Army was negotiating with GenZ as well as pro-monarchists at its headquarters, but moved the talks to President Ram Chandra Paudel’s office on 11 September.&nbsp; Former chief justice Sushila Karki was nominated interim head of government by GenZ delegates voting on Discord, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/march-to-5-march">mandated to hold elections</a> on 5 March.&nbsp; Will that happen? Things are too fluid at the moment. And my mind is still reeling from the fear and panic of that moped ride with my daughter through rampaging mobs. Did all that really happen in front of my eyes, or was it just a nightmare?&nbsp; Bhadra Sharma is a reporter for The New York Times based in Kathmandu.

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Reporter's diary of 8-9 September

<figure><img width="1914" height="1078" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfd739c7e80680e0a0be5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>TOLOnews female presenter Beheshta Arghand interviewing Taliban spokesperson Mawlawi Abdulhaq Hemad on 17 August. Photo: TOLONews</figcaption></figure>Steven Butler describes it as “mass panic.” As the Taliban seized control of Afghanistan, CPJ’s Asia program coordinator has been fielding “hundreds and hundreds” of daily pleas from journalists asking for help to flee the country.Butler, along with CPJ Asia research associate Sonali Dhawan and the organisation’s Emergencies team, are now in the process of vetting those requests.Many Afghan journalists told CPJ they are too afraid to speak on the record. To get a picture of what’s happening on the ground, I spoke to Butler and Dhawan via video about what they have learned. Their interview has been edited for length and clarity.CPJ contacted Taliban spokesman Zabihullah Mujahid for comment via messaging app but received no response. CPJ also emailed the US State Department for comment but received no response; several calls to the US military failed to connect.When did CPJ begin getting requests for help from Afghan journalists?Butler: The requests for help from journalists who wanted to leave Afghanistan because they saw the Taliban coming started early this year. It was a trickle at the time and then it started to crescendo in July and increased by early August.We are getting hundreds and hundreds of requests for help every day now. Many of them are journalists and some of them are not journalists, they are just trying to find a way out. It has completely flooded our system. We are doing the best we can. We have four people working on analysing and looking into individual cases.We value our reputation for thorough documentation on everything we do and are applying our same standard to this — we are trying to document the cases as the best we can, because we are recommending them to the US government for emergency evacuation.What can you tell us about the <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=tAXPZ997p8VyLOXlEG5WpXOYJYccbznnQXx7atpHJ0Y9PHCkdDZJCw" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3DtAXPZ997p8VyLOXlEG5WpXOYJYccbznnQXx7atpHJ0Y9PHCkdDZJCw&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828623000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGCqxZ-wUJ8YMOcX2o7uKDtOES31w">chaotic scenes</a> at the airport and what it means for journalists?Butler: As of Tuesday the area has been secured and there is a perimeter. Anytime you have a military perimeter you have a problem, because there is an outside and there is an inside, and the outside is going to be controlled by the Taliban in one way or another, so the challenge has been to figure out how to get people through an insecure situation on the streets of Kabul, how to get them checked in through this military perimeter including additional checks by the U.S. military, and then get them on to flights. We have had people that have failed to get through.Why are Afghan journalists so desperate to leave?Butler: As the Taliban have extended their control over the provinces, we have seen them close down media outfits and <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=3fUbZQcSQYFqWpL-dwGEB-4MS14XqK8R6sw7iAugpFl_CbEaiXS6YQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3D3fUbZQcSQYFqWpL-dwGEB-4MS14XqK8R6sw7iAugpFl_CbEaiXS6YQ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH3U94F5cWgjTNsQM6z8fSoaio6Tg">substitute their own personnel</a>. That hasn’t always led to people being killed or put in prison necessarily, but nonetheless journalists in Afghanistan are concerned that they are going to be pushed out of their profession — at the minimum. There are a number of very prominent journalists who have been harassed or chased by the Taliban and who have gone into hiding.What specific threats against journalists are you hearing about?Dhawan: Journalists who identify as women and ethnic minorities, specifically the Hazara, are at particular risk. The Hazara are an ethnic minority group who were <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=8nGSPAHFTNAWHtl_cNVp0Wa-r7pbWq-QxXfogE0UCQrF2RSlaPPrhA" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3D8nGSPAHFTNAWHtl_cNVp0Wa-r7pbWq-QxXfogE0UCQrF2RSlaPPrhA&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHqhW6Cirn_7bswdFN_VSBwiX3r5g">subject to mass killings</a> during the Taliban regime in the late 1990s. Journalists who have critically covered the Taliban are also terrified.I spoke to a journalist who was covering the Taliban takeover of a northern province — the Taliban came to his home after his reporting and they chased him out of the home. He ran away and they fired shots behind him and he managed to escape and get to Kabul. In the days after he escaped, he continued to receive calls that said, “We will find you.” Another prominent female journalist told me she received threatening calls in recent days from the Taliban that said, “Your time is over.”One other case that I want to highlight is the <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=lWRvPuQPHAoqNEAFyEtUoE88mQd6fvQj2SodOxze7cJIZrvXGVTtwQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3DlWRvPuQPHAoqNEAFyEtUoE88mQd6fvQj2SodOxze7cJIZrvXGVTtwQ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEJ6eWfIffJYNj3zyqYdhc_iL5VZA">takeover</a> of the TOLO News compound, which is arguably the most prominent news channel in Afghanistan, a 24-hour channel that has covered a wide range of events and produced very critical coverage as part of this post-2001 media boom in Afghanistan.The Taliban have interestingly taken over the compound but are still allowing journalists to broadcast, and female journalists <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=2P3ZTjVgDO-LEkXCst0KZnzUc0h--kDD3PboiZx6h-dO7MriTtIB8A" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3D2P3ZTjVgDO-LEkXCst0KZnzUc0h--kDD3PboiZx6h-dO7MriTtIB8A&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNELg6vESSGc2YbiIVZ45Td__kwZyA">actually came back</a> on the air today. But we are seeing that a number of women and ethnic minority journalists are continuing to be threatened and the Taliban are showing up at their homes. <figure><img width="2186" height="1168" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfd779c7e80680e0a0be6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Taliban spokesperson Zabihullah Mujahid addresses the first press conference in Kabul on 17 August following the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan. Photo: VOA News</figcaption></figure>What is the Taliban presence like at TOLO News? Butler: It looks like the Taliban have stationed armed people around the outside of the compound mainly. When they entered the premises [on August 16] they took away government issued weapons from <a href="https://tolonews.com/pa/afghanistan-174313" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">TOLO</a> security but they allowed privately purchased weapons to remain.People who have watched the recent news broadcast say it is much toned down. The women are appearing with headscarves and more conservative dress. It is really unclear what is going to happen and why the Taliban have taken what seems to be a softer approach to TOLO compared to other radio or broadcast operations in the provinces.Are they trying to create a kind of appearance for the international community because TOLO is the best known? That is one possibility. Have they changed? They say they welcome press freedom and they are allowing women to operate in certain professional positions. I don’t think that people are taking what they say at face value. There is a lot of skepticism given the documented <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=Qm8S0bLLVJ7VWAdng49e6NWxgMgLeRu8YDifWhwF3EytCs8gDPhfBQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3DQm8S0bLLVJ7VWAdng49e6NWxgMgLeRu8YDifWhwF3EytCs8gDPhfBQ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHgoIizaupuirfDUabrDxt4LdLRDg">history of brutality</a> by the Taliban.What specifically did the Taliban say about press freedom?Dhawan: The Taliban spokesperson, Zabihullah Mujahid, <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=GTQHMjGHuQmSkAGZG2mdL8hgbEKDt4Najm_LKtnaY6TDn_wbiLITRw" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3DGTQHMjGHuQmSkAGZG2mdL8hgbEKDt4Najm_LKtnaY6TDn_wbiLITRw&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFbY5li5mrgvjiJPdjQ-a5i3T2YNQ">conducted a press conference</a> and it really goes to show how brave Afghan journalists are because they were asking really tough questions, particularly about women in the country.He said the Taliban will allow all media outlets to continue their activities on three conditions, the first being there should be no broadcast that will contradict Islamic values, the second that they should be impartial, the third that no one should broadcast anything against the national interest. What we are seeing on the public platform is not matching the realities on the ground, because several radio stations in provinces, newspapers, and news outlets have <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=4Iz0EHIu5_DpwD3wuGtdDC-JY9cff80wRXnyIURB4EOTpk1LlP7ZbA" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3D4Iz0EHIu5_DpwD3wuGtdDC-JY9cff80wRXnyIURB4EOTpk1LlP7ZbA&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFhf6nM1WfeS3vuyfaHKJPHmVUVLQ">shut down amid fighting</a> as the Taliban took over.What is the Taliban trying to convey with these comments about press freedom?Butler: I would look on it pessimistically. Governments use this kind of double talk all over the region and all over the world to find ways to restrict what journalists do. It could well be that the Taliban have seen what other countries are doing in terms of rhetoric and are imitating it.It is a fact that democracy and press freedom are values that are universally spoken about but only rarely fully embraced. I think that we may see that pattern repeat itself in Afghanistan. Hopefully not. Hopefully they actually believe what they are saying, but we will have to see.You mentioned that female journalists are at particular risk. What else are you hearing from women?Dhawan: Most of the female journalists I have spoken to are absolutely terrified and have left their homes and gone into hiding somewhere. This is because there are several local reports of women journalists who have had their homes searched or the Taliban have showed up at their homes. And that is a particularly traumatising experience.A lot of women journalists who work in the fields of arts and culture or education are equally terrified. I know of several women journalists that work in these fields and are actively receiving threats from the Taliban. The Taliban did show up at the home of one very prominent journalist and said they would come back to her home and are looking for her.What other journalistic beats could draw the attention of the Taliban?Butler: Journalists have a history of their own work that lives on social media. I have been told that many journalists are now trying to scrub their social media profiles and deleting articles to try to hide that past. It is hard to say going forward what are going to be the sensitive issues, but journalists who were highly critical of the Taliban in the past could face a kind of reckoning.There’s a journalist I have been in touch with quite a lot. He and his wife were able to get out. But they are desperate now to get their families out. They say that the Taliban is going to go after their families because of their highly critical reporting on the Taliban in the past. I don’t know if that is going to be the case. I hope it is not. But they are convinced that their families will be killed.You described a “media boom” in Afghanistan after 2001. Can you say more about what is at risk of being lost at this moment?Dhawan: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/call-to-evacuate-afghan-journalists/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Afghan journalists</a> have done incredibly thoughtful and diligent work over the past 20 years to build a thriving press. They have braved the dangers of a military occupation, the presence of militant groups in the country and they have reported critically during these extremely dangerous times.The precipitous withdrawal of U.S. forces from Afghanistan has led to a complete collapse of the government and security forces, leaving journalists at severe risk of violence. There are simply no avenues for journalists to seek protection from authorities and they are essentially relying on their own community, their neighbours, and family members for protection at this point.As much as there is a need for journalists to get out of the country and CPJ is doing its best to do that work, journalists who want to remain in the country must be allowed to freely report on the extent of a humanitarian crisis that is about to occur.Butler: The international community totally failed to create a stable democracy, but they did succeed in creating a thriving press. There was a lot of money – US government money, USAID, private foundation money — to support and get these operations going because of course a free press is the absolute foundation of democracy. It stuck.We had a <a href="http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i=C3l9uYxO5cc-ndmCYIfcz__Str-VhI1hJJ1tFo1n3uKsDH6ZjkofdQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://support.cpj.org/site/R?i%3DC3l9uYxO5cc-ndmCYIfcz__Str-VhI1hJJ1tFo1n3uKsDH6ZjkofdQ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629510828624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGQBEOeZRNkd6kUMGfd-GWYKvqQQQ">case</a> a couple of weeks ago of people being forced into an interview with a Taliban local commander and made to promise that they would broadcast the interview. They came back and refused to do it because it wasn’t good journalism just to broadcast one side, so they went into hiding in Kabul.They got some of the lessons of what good journalism consists of and if you look at TOLO News, all these news outlets, a lot of it is quality journalism. And, of course, the international press relied heavily on local journalists. This is really a remarkable achievement and it would be a terrible shame for it to disappear completely. It would be wonderful for some of that spirit of press freedom and quality journalism and reporting to live on even if the previous government, the collapsed government of Afghanistan, no longer exists.Is there anything else that has struck you from this past week that you’d like to share?Dhawan: I was in contact with a journalist who is being actively threatened by the Taliban. She has been messaging me every day, afraid for her life. She is sheltered in a hotel right now and I told her we are working with the U.S. government to evacuate her and will continue to provide updates about her case as soon as we receive them. She said, “I may not be alive by that time.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/afghanistan-abandoned/"> Afganisthan abandoned</a>, Aunohita MojumdarNaomi Zeveloff is Features Editor at Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ). This interview is reprinted from Inter Press Service.

“I may not be alive by the time I am evacuated”

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc489c7e80680e08bc14jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="452"/><figcaption>A narrow ridge that served as a helipad in Kalikot district back in 2004 when the Maoist War was on its peak. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Twenty-five years after the Maoist insurgency started on 13 February 1996, journalists who covered that war remember their own experiences reporting on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/end-of-war-is-not-peace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the conflict</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4b9c7e80680e08bc15jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>One of the many ruins left behind by a decade long Maoist War 1996-2006.</figcaption></figure>Shivering with fearWe reached Pandusen of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15778#.YCx9Si2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bajura district</a> in September 2003. Men were ploughing a terrace with two oxen and sowing wheat. We took out our camera and tripod. But when the men saw us, they fled. Later one of them told us, “We are afraid of strangers. We thought you were soldiers.” He told us the army had come through and killed six people in the village, including Padam Bahadur Shahi.At Padam Bahadur’s house, relatives were in mourning. “He had gone to harvest paddy, he had done nothing wrong, ” his mother Koila told us, weeping. “They brought him here and hit him with rocks.”Padam’s father Gorakh Bahadur said the soldiers even kicked their baby grandson, injuring him. “They led my son away and I followed,” he told us. “They were beating him all the way, his teeth were scattered across the road, he was bleeding.”We climbed up the trail to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2027#.YCx9Ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Martadi</a>. Within half-an-hour we were at Ramlal Damai’s house. He had been killed with a bullet in his head, and his relatives were wailing as they removed his body from the house. Further up in the village of Angaupani, we came across a whole village in mourning for six men who had been killed by soldiers the previous day.We reached Kolti airfield where 12 police had recently been killed. Nearby, the army had killed another 10 villagers accusing them of being Maoists. A couple was in shock after their children aged 10 and five were killed after a Maoist pipe bomb they found in the forest exploded. All around us there was nothing but death and destruction.A year later, I went to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-battered-future,3218" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kailali</a> and Bardia which had the highest number of disappeared during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conflict</a>. Their relatives are still waiting for truth and justice.In war, people take to guns. But ultimately it is the gun that takes people away.Mohan Mainali<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4e9c7e80680e08bc16jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="669"><figcaption>A father trying to stop his young son who had decided to join the Maoists. Khotang 2004.</figcaption></figure>Families torn apartIn February 2000, we travelled to the Maoist heartland of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12393#.YCx-nC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a>, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6164#.YCx-vC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2928#.YCx-yC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jajarkot</a>. Along the way, we noticed police sentry posts located on treetops for safety. The policemen were playing carom with guns slung on their shoulders. We knew we were entering a war zone. In Libang, we visited Maoist prisoners in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-spark-that-lit-the-Maoist-revolution,2870" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a> district jail. They spoke about being innocent, framed and tortured by the police. We interviewed a Maoist leader, Lokendra Bista. He told us the revolution was actually in response to state violence, but he said the resolution of the conflict was only possible through dialogue, not through violence.In Khalanga of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=328#.YCx-ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a>, there was also a lot of fear. Many who had been driven out or tortured by the Maoists had fled to the district headquarters for safety. We came across children cooking by themselves. One 11-year-old was kneading dough, but he wept as he told us: “The police killed our father and mother, I feel like drinking the blood from their hearts.”Four years later, we went to eastern Nepal. By this time, the army had joined <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10616#.YCx-lC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war</a> and Maoist influence had spread throughout the country. One indelible memory of that time was the farewell of a distraught father in Chisapani of Khotang for his ninth grader student son, Kiran Bista.In the video, the father clutches the boy’s legs and does not want to let go. The boy tries to placate his father: “Don’t do this, Dad. My friends all have fathers. We are all going to war, please don’t do this.”A confident speaker, Kiran later told us later on camera: “I am joining out of my own free will because I have understood that we have to fight for our country.”When we got to Mugu, local Maoists detained us for 22 hours. But it was not till we got to Mudbara of Doti that we found out just how badly the war had affected children. The army had attacked a school in September 2004 after they found out the Maoists had gone there to recruit. Six of the Maoists were killed, but so were four students.“I didn’t even know I had been hit, I was unconscious when they took me to hospital,” said one student Dharma Bhurtel. Her mother, Krishna Maya, broke down as she told us of the pain at seeing her only daughter wounded.Bishnu Prasad was hiding inside a classroom with other students, when soldiers kicked the door in and started shooting. He was hit, and paralysed. “I like to go to school, but I cannot walk now.”Teachers were on the frontlines of the war, and nearly 220 of them were killed by both sides. “After the war started, we were caught in the crossfire. Whichever side fires the guns it is us teachers who get killed,” Ram Bahadur Raut principal of the Chisapani Secondary School in Khotang told us then.Dhruba Basnet<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc529c7e80680e08bc17jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="518"><figcaption>Many Maoist cadre associated carrying guns with being powerful and empowered.</figcaption></figure>Power of the gun<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12319#.YCx_3C2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Children</a> would follow us everywhere. They were very loyal to the Maoist party. Even 10-year-old <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13190#.YCx_5i2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">children</a> had been so effectively brainwashed that they would speak in Maoist jargon, saying “When the revolution is successful, we will be also be rich and powerful.” And they believed it.We went to homes, and heard families talk about the fear of both the police and guerrillas. The Maoists had ordered every household to contribute at least one person to attend their revolutionary meetings and listen to speeches. We attended those cultural programs, as well. The Maoists cadre were full of enthusiasm and energy, <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=bead8272edd0f2143&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/still-singing-and-dancing/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiYw6ix8O_uAhUy83MBHRiACWYQFjAAegQIBhAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw06kcWD1ctXQGTrve9YQNmE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">singing and performing revolutionary dances</a> about the liberation of the proletariat. Villagers watched with interest, but there was fear in their eyes.The armed Maoists looked like they were really empowered. I asked some of them how it felt to be carrying a gun? They used to reply: “I feel powerful, now no one can do anything to me.”Amrita Lamsalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzHLTaNnSDo&amp;feature=youtu.beThe smell of fearIn October 2004, we took a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1890#.YCybTI8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">helicopter from Surkhet to Kalikot</a>, flying over the mountains of Dailekh and the Karnali River. On the left we could see Kotbada, where a year previously the Royal Nepal Army had <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/02/13/tears-of-joy-and-sorrow-in-kalikot/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">killed 36 workers building an airfield</a>, mistaking them to be Maoist guerrillas. We were in the heart of the conflict zone to understand how the war was affecting ordinary people in the Karnali.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_219.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kalikot was remote then</a>, as the highway was still being built. At the end of the first day’s walk in Pili, we saw small children slither down from tree tops and scamper off to the village. We found out they were Maoist ‘wholetimers’ on sentry duty.The local Maoists held a village gathering that evening and paraded us on the stage, accusing us of being military spies and “royal mongrels”. The language they used during interrogation that night was straight out of the Khmer Rouge. Two years later, 55 soldiers were killed in a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=721#.YCyBmi2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist attack in Pili</a>.Finally let off the next day, we were detained again in Jubitha by 12-13 year-olds with guns. They could not read, and held our press passes upside down. “We are now in the armed struggle phase of our revolution,” said one youngster.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc559c7e80680e08bc18jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>Comrade Mukti in Kalikot in 2004.</figcaption></figure>Along the trail, we passed a group of women guerrillas who gave us red salutes and gripped us in firm handshakes. It was a surprise to see such empowered young women in what was at that time, a part of western Nepal most steeped in patriarchy.As we got closer to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/No-peace,432" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jumla</a> amidst the spectacular scenery of golden terraces of ripening paddy, the blue-green Tila River and the snow-capped Kanjiroba in the distance, there were signs of war damage. Ruins of destroyed homes, charred buildings, empty silent streets. There was no laughter from children, they peered at us from behind upstairs windows, no one talked to strangers. You could smell the fear in the air.Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc589c7e80680e08bc19jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="362"><figcaption>Baburam Tamang, one of the 18 Maoist cadre massacred in Ramechap in 2003.</figcaption></figure>The National Human Rights Commission was sending a team to investigate the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4639#.YCylnY8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">massacre of 18 Maoist cadre in Doramba</a> of Ramechhap on 17 August 2003. It included former Chief Justice Krishna Jung Rayamajhi, former Attorney General Bhim Bahadur Bista, forensic physician Harihar Awasti, advocate Hari Phuyal and myself. We reached Doramba 11 days after the killings and found the fresh graves.Local Maoists had gathered at the home of Yubaraj Moktan. The army encircled the house, and those who could, escaped. The others were rounded up, and were led off up towards the Sailung forest with hands tied behind their backs. The army unit was led by Major Ram Mani Pokhrel. Down in the village, people heard calls for help, and then gunshots.The villagers helped us exhume the bodies, and Harihar Awasti went down to examine them one by one. He would dictate the details, which I noted down and shared with Hari Phuyal. The stench of rotting bodies was overpowering. Villagers would recognise the faces, and point to them, saying: “That is Bishnu Maya. That is Lila.” Most had been shot at point blank range in the forehead.A young man handed me a 35mm film roll. We developed it, and found images of the bodies had been thrown over the edge after being killed. And there was a photograph of a local man named <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18623" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Baburam Tamang</a>, the only one without a gunshot in the forehead, but in the arm. It looked like he had bled to death.Villagers told us that night they had heard someone up the mountain call out for help “Ama, ama.” But they were too afraid to go up and check. We think it was a dying Baburam Tamang.The villagers had later buried the bodies, wrapping them in cloth and flag. Nearby was a pile of half-burnt personal effects of those who had been killed. Among them, I found a notepad belonging to Bishnu Maya Thapa Magar, one of those who had been killed.Kanak Mani Dixit

From the frontlines of Nepal’s war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc3c9c7e80680e08bc10jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1550"/><figcaption>Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Even as Nepal completes the first phase of its Covid vaccine drive to inoculate <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-health-workers-battle-covid-19-but-also-stigma/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">frontline health workers</a> and other high-risk groups, new hyper-spreading variants of the coronavirus as well as vaccine denial have raised concerns about the efficacy of the campaign.Public health experts, however, say the government must continue its vaccination to reach as many vulnerable people as possible with a better communication strategy and more aggressive promotion.Nepal is one of the first countries in the region to start a mass Covid-19 vaccination drive. But the first phase <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-there-vaccine-hesitancy-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">saw a moderate turnout</a> with only half of the doctors, nurses, FCHVs, security personnel and cleaners prioritised by the government inoculating themselves because of the safety concerns and inaccessibility.This forced the Health Ministry to expand the first phase to also include civil servants, diplomats, bankers and journalists so that it could used up the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/jabs-and-jab-nots/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">1 million doses of Covishield vaccines donated by India</a> last month.With additional 2.25 million Covishield doses under the WHO’s COVAX initiative arriving in Nepal by early March and another 2 million that the government is in talks to purchase from the Serum Institute of India, officials are gearing up for the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/next-up-for-vaccines-elderly-nepalis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">second phase of the vaccination</a> for people above 55 years and those with co-morbidities starting from 7 March.This will be followed by the age group 40-54 and then those below 40 years of age.“The campaign will now be community-based, unlike the first phase that was facility-based, we will take the vaccine to the people and ensure higher coverage,” assured Shyam Raj Uprety, head of government’s Covid Vaccine Strategy. “And as per the WHO recommendation, our advisory groups will soon finalise their decision to provide the second dose between 8-12 weeks.”Public health experts say that the emergence of new variants should not dissuade the government from discontinuing or scaling back its vaccine drive.“An RNA virus will have variants, it is a given, we have to live with them. In fact, we might have our own variant in South Asia, but we should keep on vaccinating and saving lives,” says Sameer Dixit of the Centre for Molecular Dynamics Nepal.Of the multiple variants circulating globally, the one first identified in the UK called B.1.1.7 is more widespread, and some have been detected in Nepal in travellers arriving from Britain. The good news is that AstraZeneca Covishield vaccine has been found to be effective against the strain.However, a trial involving 2,000 people in South Africa claimed that Oxford jabs offered only <a href="https://thewire.in/health/south-africa-asks-serum-institute-to-take-back-1-million-covid-19-vaccine-doses" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">minimal protection against mild and moderate cases</a> (of their variant B.1.351). Experts caution that it may be too soon to declare the vaccine ineffective because the study was conducted in a small population of young people.In Brazil, a variant called P.1 has been found to contain contains a set of additional mutations that may affect its ability to be recognised by antibodies, adding to the challenge.“What’s important in this debate is that even if one were to contract Covid, the vaccine will prevent people from getting severely ill and dying,” says Buddha Basnyat of the Patan Academy of Health Sciences. “Trials and emergency use so far has strongly addressed safety concerns regarding Covishield, so we can’t let news of variants put a damper on the vaccination campaign.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc3f9c7e80680e08bc11jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-begins-covid-19-vaccination-drive/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">nationwide vaccination campaign</a> is taking place at a time when Nepal and the rest of the South Asia are reporting much fewer cases and fatalities, much of which has been credited to limited contact tracing and herd immunity in major cities after large chunks of the population developed resistance against SARS-CoV-2 after contracting it.But the lack of surveillance, seroprevalence studies and antibody tests means that researchers have not been able to confirm localised immunity.“The government is unwilling to conduct a study despite interest from aid agencies. Results from these studies would have helped us better prepare vaccination strategy at a time when we face great resource constraint,” says Dixit.Nepal also needs to continue with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-will-nepals-covid-vaccine-turn-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">vaccine diplomacy</a> and look into other shots, in particular, Chinese Sinovac and Bharat Biotech’s Covaxin. Both the vaccines use the whole inactivated (dead) virus, because of which they are unable to infect people or cause pathological effects but deploy the immune system to mount a defensive reaction against the virus.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/05/opinion/covid-vaccines-china-russia.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sinovac made global headlines</a> when it was found to be only 50.4% effective in a trial in Brazil whereas it performed better in Turkey (91% efficacy). <a href="https://www.newindianexpress.com/cities/thiruvananthapuram/2021/feb/16/the-covaxin-conundrum-2264436.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covaxin</a> is also controversial because of its emergency use among the frontline health workers in India despite not completing its phase three trials.It will do well for Nepal to keep track of their trials with the government aiming to vaccinate 72% of its eligible population above 18 years. People aged 55 and above make up 11% of Nepal’s population whereas the 40-54 age group account for 13%. People aged 18-39 made up nearly half of Nepal’s 28.8 million population in the 2011 census.In the meantime, the government needs to enforce the equitable distribution of the vaccine to the remotest parts of the country with the most at-risk groups high in priority. Public health experts say that with cases rising again in India, Nepal could also see a spike as people become complacent and mingle more.Says Sher Bahadur Pun of the Infectious Disease Hospital in Teku: “We have been given this reprieve with fewer cases and fatalities, we need to utilise this time to vaccinate the elderly so that the most vulnerable in our communities are protected if and when the next wave hits us.”

Sonia Awale

Nepal braces for new wave with vaccine drive

<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b24b0ad905ca02f027jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhawana Gurung interviews a resident of Matatirtha in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The first person infected with SARS-CoV-2 was in Wuhan as far back as December 2019, but it was not until late January that there was international concern, and it was finally declared a pandemic in February. In the thick of it was Nepali journalist Bibek Bhandari, working at Shanghai-based <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyXl1wLmco9a86gmJVpF_TG2dDuA">Sixth Tone</a> as news editor. “My last day in the office was on 23 January before the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday,” Bhandari recalls. “It was cold and drizzling when I left work that evening. We had already been <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%28jan.-16-31%29" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%2528jan.-16-31%2529&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEGDCAT1cN1u7we7DEoWZxGZhE3YA">writing</a> extensively about the novel coronavirus, and the holidays were grim.”   Shanghai was not just deserted, but there was an air of despair and fear hanging over the city. Bhandari and his colleagues covering the holiday shift were told to work from home. “We were all living in the unknown, trying to figure out what the news the next day would bring,” says Bhandari, who flew to Nepal in February and was supposed to go back on 31 March. By then, Nepal was in lockdown and all flights halted. He was stuck in Kathmandu till September. In Nepal itself, journalists were also forced to adapt. Bhawana Gurung and Asha Thapa decided to use the lockdown period to start a podcast from their home to disseminate health information. “As soon as we heard about Covid-19, we felt there was a gap in lifesaving information. We thought a podcast would be an effective medium,” says Gurung who runs <a href="https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExmzRbJyWJMVvPu39tfjXv-XZbog">Sankatma Sathi</a> with Thapa, about safety during the pandemic. <figure><img width="963" height="722" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b54b0ad905ca02f028jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We recorded our first episode in bed, on the phone,” laughs Thapa, who spent the first five months of the lockdown at her home in Matatirtha, producing stories from her neighbourhood. The podcast, targeted at a rural Nepali audience, was soon hooked up by 20 community radio stations.But working from home comes with its own challenges. “In the beginning it was fun because I could work from bed, but eventually, you’re always staring at your four walls, especially if you live alone,” says Gurung.In India, however, the opposite was true for Hashim (who goes by his first name), a journalist with <a href="https://dataleads.co.in/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dataleads.co.in/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHWX9flIbBzzIG0b3gNLrxg9ownXQ">Data Leads</a> in New Delhi. He says, “Everyone is not privileged. If you’re living in a one-BHK (one bedroom, hall and kitchen) apartment in Noida with six family members, it can be challenging.”Hashim was also filming tutorials for journalists on reporting from home, which required him to turn his home into a makeshift studio. “You’re constantly asking everyone to quiet down during recordings and online meetings. It can take a toll on your family,” he says. “And if you’re freelancing, it is hard to sell a story without the Covid angle.”In India, <a href="https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE1T2XsUnR47IkDsTlxMN6AkMxMKw">44 journalists died</a> due to the virus, which made Hashim himself aware of his own mortality. He has not left his Delhi neighbourhood for six months as he continues to mine data for journalistic videos from home, while skipping to stay fit. “I’m exercising for the first time in my life,” he says on WhatsApp. <figure><img width="1080" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b74b0ad905ca02f029jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Locked away in his apartment in Kuala Lumpur for four months, Bhutanese journalist Jigmey Thinley was running up and down the stairs of his condo as the gym was closed. He was working for the <a href="https://aibd.org.my/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://aibd.org.my/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYZIvhgqXDRLEZbWWd_awIgE82kw">Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development</a> in Malaysia when the pandemic hit, and decided it was time to head home.He arrived home in Thimphu in September, as Bhutan relaxed the lockdown temporarily.  But as a new <a href="https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfDWnon-gRAhWKMIOFjKr9j0iEkQ">national lockdown</a> came into effect in Bhutan on 23 December in response to a second wave, Thinley and his colleagues found that they could no longer go home after work. <figure><img width="1080" height="972" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0ba4b0ad905ca02f02ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We stay at the office these days. We all brought our own bedding. We’ve turned our offices into working rooms-cum-bedrooms,” says Thinley, now General Manager of News and Current Affairs at <a href="http://www.bbs.bt/news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bbs.bt/news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHuI5qlLZdFiy7Hx0yYyi9rPfibsA">Bhutan Broadcasting Service</a>.Logistic adjustments have been a universal experience for journalists elsewhere in Asia in 2020. Ruth Cabal works for CNN in Manila and had to manage from a temporary studio at home in the initial days of reporting COVID-19.“I live with my brother so he set up the camera with my phone and all,” says Cabal. “My Viber app served as the teleprompter because the scripts from the producer would be posted there.”Also a professor at the University of Philippines, Cabal says her broadcasts were punctuated by signal hiccups. She also had to do her own make-up while broadcasting from home and the coffees that constantly accompanied her in the live studio, was missing. <figure><img width="1231" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0bd4b0ad905ca02f02bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But the media industry has adapted well to the situation, she says, “When there’s a typhoon, a civilian stays away, but the opposite is true for journalists. We go to where the typhoon is supposed to make landfall. These are the kind of events journalists are trained for.” The ‘infodemic’ and disinformation that accompanied the pandemic have been other major challenges for the media industry, as online time went up globally.“During the lockdown, getting access to information is difficult. While we focus on the pandemic, there are many other, equally important issues that we could miss out on,” says Bhutan’s Jigmey Thinley.Which is why the pandemic has made the job of journalists all the more important, Ruth Cabal says, adding: “It is up to journalists to properly vet information and be aggressive in trying to interview the right people to give accurate information.”While the medium they work in may be different, journalists across Asia have been driving towards the same goal: sharing information that brings relief and hope to the public, sometimes at the cost of their own psychological and physical wellbeing. “It’s probably one of the biggest stories of our times globally. This means that a lot of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFgQL8nmcwYjAtPBYpKqk6ZDX7pg">journalists</a> may have had to work relentlessly and with limited resources. We’ve heard stories about burnouts and then some pretty disheartening news about the layoffs,” says Bibek Bhandari, the Nepali journalist in Shanghai.Even with all the challenges, those doing crisis coverage have tried to find comfort in their vocation.“We did a lot of learning and creating together with colleagues, who went on to become good friends by the end of lockdown,” says podcaster Bhawana Gurung. “It’s been a year of tracing common grounds to heal — for our audience as well as for ourselves.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0bf4b0ad905ca02f02cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1000">Shanghai-based journalist Bibek Bhandari.

Pratibha Tuladhar

Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9cc9c7e80680e0878dejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhawana Gurung interviews a resident of Matatirtha in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The first person infected with SARS-CoV-2 was in Wuhan as far back as December 2019, but it was not until late January that there was international concern, and it was finally declared a pandemic in February. In the thick of it was Nepali journalist Bibek Bhandari, working at Shanghai-based <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyXl1wLmco9a86gmJVpF_TG2dDuA">Sixth Tone</a> as news editor. “My last day in the office was on 23 January before the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday,” Bhandari recalls. “It was cold and drizzling when I left work that evening. We had already been <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%28jan.-16-31%29" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%2528jan.-16-31%2529&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEGDCAT1cN1u7we7DEoWZxGZhE3YA">writing</a> extensively about the novel coronavirus, and the holidays were grim.”   Shanghai was not just deserted, but there was an air of despair and fear hanging over the city. Bhandari and his colleagues covering the holiday shift were told to work from home. “We were all living in the unknown, trying to figure out what the news the next day would bring,” says Bhandari, who flew to Nepal in February and was supposed to go back on 31 March. By then, Nepal was in lockdown and all flights halted. He was stuck in Kathmandu till September. In Nepal itself, journalists were also forced to adapt. Bhawana Gurung and Asha Thapa decided to use the lockdown period to start a podcast from their home to disseminate health information. “As soon as we heard about Covid-19, we felt there was a gap in lifesaving information. We thought a podcast would be an effective medium,” says Gurung who runs <a href="https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExmzRbJyWJMVvPu39tfjXv-XZbog">Sankatma Sathi</a> with Thapa, about safety during the pandemic. <figure><img width="963" height="722" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9cf9c7e80680e0878dfjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We recorded our first episode in bed, on the phone,” laughs Thapa, who spent the first five months of the lockdown at her home in Matatirtha, producing stories from her neighbourhood. The podcast, targeted at a rural Nepali audience, was soon hooked up by 20 community radio stations.But working from home comes with its own challenges. “In the beginning it was fun because I could work from bed, but eventually, you’re always staring at your four walls, especially if you live alone,” says Gurung.In India, however, the opposite was true for Hashim (who goes by his first name), a journalist with <a href="https://dataleads.co.in/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dataleads.co.in/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHWX9flIbBzzIG0b3gNLrxg9ownXQ">Data Leads</a> in New Delhi. He says, “Everyone is not privileged. If you’re living in a one-BHK (one bedroom, hall and kitchen) apartment in Noida with six family members, it can be challenging.”Hashim was also filming tutorials for journalists on reporting from home, which required him to turn his home into a makeshift studio. “You’re constantly asking everyone to quiet down during recordings and online meetings. It can take a toll on your family,” he says. “And if you’re freelancing, it is hard to sell a story without the Covid angle.”In India, <a href="https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE1T2XsUnR47IkDsTlxMN6AkMxMKw">44 journalists died</a> due to the virus, which made Hashim himself aware of his own mortality. He has not left his Delhi neighbourhood for six months as he continues to mine data for journalistic videos from home, while skipping to stay fit. “I’m exercising for the first time in my life,” he says on WhatsApp. <figure><img width="1080" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d29c7e80680e0878e0jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Locked away in his apartment in Kuala Lumpur for four months, Bhutanese journalist Jigmey Thinley was running up and down the stairs of his condo as the gym was closed. He was working for the <a href="https://aibd.org.my/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://aibd.org.my/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYZIvhgqXDRLEZbWWd_awIgE82kw">Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development</a> in Malaysia when the pandemic hit, and decided it was time to head home.He arrived home in Thimphu in September, as Bhutan relaxed the lockdown temporarily.  But as a new <a href="https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfDWnon-gRAhWKMIOFjKr9j0iEkQ">national lockdown</a> came into effect in Bhutan on 23 December in response to a second wave, Thinley and his colleagues found that they could no longer go home after work. <figure><img width="1080" height="972" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d59c7e80680e0878e1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We stay at the office these days. We all brought our own bedding. We’ve turned our offices into working rooms-cum-bedrooms,” says Thinley, now General Manager of News and Current Affairs at <a href="http://www.bbs.bt/news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bbs.bt/news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHuI5qlLZdFiy7Hx0yYyi9rPfibsA">Bhutan Broadcasting Service</a>.Logistic adjustments have been a universal experience for journalists elsewhere in Asia in 2020. Ruth Cabal works for CNN in Manila and had to manage from a temporary studio at home in the initial days of reporting COVID-19.“I live with my brother so he set up the camera with my phone and all,” says Cabal. “My Viber app served as the teleprompter because the scripts from the producer would be posted there.”Also a professor at the University of Philippines, Cabal says her broadcasts were punctuated by signal hiccups. She also had to do her own make-up while broadcasting from home and the coffees that constantly accompanied her in the live studio, was missing. <figure><img width="1231" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d79c7e80680e0878e2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But the media industry has adapted well to the situation, she says, “When there’s a typhoon, a civilian stays away, but the opposite is true for journalists. We go to where the typhoon is supposed to make landfall. These are the kind of events journalists are trained for.” The ‘infodemic’ and disinformation that accompanied the pandemic have been other major challenges for the media industry, as online time went up globally.“During the lockdown, getting access to information is difficult. While we focus on the pandemic, there are many other, equally important issues that we could miss out on,” says Bhutan’s Jigmey Thinley.Which is why the pandemic has made the job of journalists all the more important, Ruth Cabal says, adding: “It is up to journalists to properly vet information and be aggressive in trying to interview the right people to give accurate information.”While the medium they work in may be different, journalists across Asia have been driving towards the same goal: sharing information that brings relief and hope to the public, sometimes at the cost of their own psychological and physical wellbeing. “It’s probably one of the biggest stories of our times globally. This means that a lot of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFgQL8nmcwYjAtPBYpKqk6ZDX7pg">journalists</a> may have had to work relentlessly and with limited resources. We’ve heard stories about burnouts and then some pretty disheartening news about the layoffs,” says Bibek Bhandari, the Nepali journalist in Shanghai.Even with all the challenges, those doing crisis coverage have tried to find comfort in their vocation.“We did a lot of learning and creating together with colleagues, who went on to become good friends by the end of lockdown,” says podcaster Bhawana Gurung. “It’s been a year of tracing common grounds to heal — for our audience as well as for ourselves.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9da9c7e80680e0878e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1000">Shanghai-based journalist Bibek Bhandari.

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181148/636be8269c7e80680e087841jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="747" height="600"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>As <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">part of my job as a journalist</a>, I have interviewed many in the past months who were seriously sick with Covid-19. On all those occasions, at the back of my mind was always the fear that I myself might be infected one day.Our work takes us to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-journalists-are-also-on-the-frontlines/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">frontlines of this pandemic</a>. When the lockdown was imposed, I started working out of my home in Butwal. Regardless, I had to travel to nearby regions to report. And while I tried to follow all the necessary safety measures, I never really found out where I caught the coronavirus.The infection hits patients with varying degrees of intensity. Some show severe symptoms, while others have milder ones, followed by a quick recovery. Mine were mild, and did not last long. I have since recovered.I experienced those 15 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/kathmandu-homes-and-hotels-turn-into-hospitals/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">days of isolation</a> were different for me. As a journalist, I was constantly exposed to how the news, social media interactions and conversations with friends can affect the morale of those infected. It was on the day of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rani-pokhari-open-for-bhai-tika/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bhai Tika</a> on (16 November, 2020) that I started feeling lethargic and weak. By evening, I was running a slight temperature. This was not unusual, I often had fevers and they passed.But these were extraordinary times, and I suspected it might be the dreaded coronavirus. So, I isolated myself at home.I took a paracetamol and managed to get some sleep, but at 3AM I was wide awake with 37.3° fever. This was not high, but I had a hard time going back to sleep.In the morning, I went to Lumbini Regional Hospital in Butwal for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/why-nepal-lags-in-covid-19-testing/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PCR test</a>. At around 4PM, I received my report. I was confirmed Covid-19 positive.I had been preparing myself for it mentally, so I took it well. I had no other symptoms besides fever. Once I took a paracetamol, my fever would go down, but it would return every six hours. This went on for three days.I found my CT (cycle threshold) value to be at 14, which is considerably low, so I visited the hospital to get further tests done. The reports came back normal. After the third day I no longer had fever, but a blocked nose.But it was after Day 6, that I started to experience a sore throat. Gargling with salt water and hot water steaming with a dash of sancho twice a day, helped gradually reduced the cold and the soreness by Day 8.I had heard about how a positive mental attitude builds up physical immunity. From the beginning of isolation, I was careful not to let external factors influence me. I removed Facebook and Twitter from my phone, stopped checking online portals to keep myself away from news about Covid-19 deaths.I had noticed that negative news made me anxious. It made me sweat profusely and I had difficulty breathing. Because my oxygen saturation level was normal at 97, I was clearly overthinking. It was my exposure to media that was affecting my physical recovery.So, I tried my best to forget about my circumstance by watching travel and environmental documentaries. I listened to folk music and positive discourses. I took in the sun.I asked my wife to forward to me any positive news she came across. Politician Chitra Bahadur KC’s recovery, and news about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-will-nepals-covid-vaccine-turn-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">successful vaccine trials</a> gave me hope.Throughout my career, I have heard people complain that journalists only report negative news. As a Covid-19 patient in isolation, I realised how true this is.Positive news is like the oxygen for those who are trying to recover from the coronavirus. Positive thoughts can be half the cure.While recovering, there were many who tried to give me advice. Not all of it reassuring. “Can’t say anything with coronavirus, even the healthiest have died just like that,” said one friend. Another called to say: “You should have had severe symptoms, but you seem normal.”Take it from me: trust only the experts.Doctors confirm that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/dont-take-covid-19-lightly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">impact of the virus is stronger in people with weaker immunity</a>. Many acquaintances have been severely affected. But because I was conscious about my diet and fitness, it seems I was able to fight back. More importantly, I was mentally prepared.It has been a week since I tested negative, but my health is still not back to what it used to be. I feel lethargic and listless, and cannot concentrate on work. But I am getting there because to be negative you have to be positive.Mukesh Pokhrel is the Himal Khabarpatrika and Nepali Times reporter based in Nawalparasi, covering the environment and development.

Staying positive to become negative

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191116/636bef1f4b0ad905ca02ef8ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="747" height="600"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>As <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">part of my job as a journalist</a>, I have interviewed many in the past months who were seriously sick with Covid-19. On all those occasions, at the back of my mind was always the fear that I myself might be infected one day.Our work takes us to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-journalists-are-also-on-the-frontlines/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">frontlines of this pandemic</a>. When the lockdown was imposed, I started working out of my home in Butwal. Regardless, I had to travel to nearby regions to report. And while I tried to follow all the necessary safety measures, I never really found out where I caught the coronavirus.The infection hits patients with varying degrees of intensity. Some show severe symptoms, while others have milder ones, followed by a quick recovery. Mine were mild, and did not last long. I have since recovered.I experienced those 15 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/kathmandu-homes-and-hotels-turn-into-hospitals/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">days of isolation</a> were different for me. As a journalist, I was constantly exposed to how the news, social media interactions and conversations with friends can affect the morale of those infected. It was on the day of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rani-pokhari-open-for-bhai-tika/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bhai Tika</a> on (16 November, 2020) that I started feeling lethargic and weak. By evening, I was running a slight temperature. This was not unusual, I often had fevers and they passed.But these were extraordinary times, and I suspected it might be the dreaded coronavirus. So, I isolated myself at home.I took a paracetamol and managed to get some sleep, but at 3AM I was wide awake with 37.3° fever. This was not high, but I had a hard time going back to sleep.In the morning, I went to Lumbini Regional Hospital in Butwal for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/why-nepal-lags-in-covid-19-testing/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PCR test</a>. At around 4PM, I received my report. I was confirmed Covid-19 positive.I had been preparing myself for it mentally, so I took it well. I had no other symptoms besides fever. Once I took a paracetamol, my fever would go down, but it would return every six hours. This went on for three days.I found my CT (cycle threshold) value to be at 14, which is considerably low, so I visited the hospital to get further tests done. The reports came back normal. After the third day I no longer had fever, but a blocked nose.But it was after Day 6, that I started to experience a sore throat. Gargling with salt water and hot water steaming with a dash of sancho twice a day, helped gradually reduced the cold and the soreness by Day 8.I had heard about how a positive mental attitude builds up physical immunity. From the beginning of isolation, I was careful not to let external factors influence me. I removed Facebook and Twitter from my phone, stopped checking online portals to keep myself away from news about Covid-19 deaths.I had noticed that negative news made me anxious. It made me sweat profusely and I had difficulty breathing. Because my oxygen saturation level was normal at 97, I was clearly overthinking. It was my exposure to media that was affecting my physical recovery.So, I tried my best to forget about my circumstance by watching travel and environmental documentaries. I listened to folk music and positive discourses. I took in the sun.I asked my wife to forward to me any positive news she came across. Politician Chitra Bahadur KC’s recovery, and news about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-will-nepals-covid-vaccine-turn-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">successful vaccine trials</a> gave me hope.Throughout my career, I have heard people complain that journalists only report negative news. As a Covid-19 patient in isolation, I realised how true this is.Positive news is like the oxygen for those who are trying to recover from the coronavirus. Positive thoughts can be half the cure.While recovering, there were many who tried to give me advice. Not all of it reassuring. “Can’t say anything with coronavirus, even the healthiest have died just like that,” said one friend. Another called to say: “You should have had severe symptoms, but you seem normal.”Take it from me: trust only the experts.Doctors confirm that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/dont-take-covid-19-lightly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">impact of the virus is stronger in people with weaker immunity</a>. Many acquaintances have been severely affected. But because I was conscious about my diet and fitness, it seems I was able to fight back. More importantly, I was mentally prepared.It has been a week since I tested negative, but my health is still not back to what it used to be. I feel lethargic and listless, and cannot concentrate on work. But I am getting there because to be negative you have to be positive.Mukesh Pokhrel is the Himal Khabarpatrika and Nepali Times reporter based in Nawalparasi, covering the environment and development.

<figure><img width="2016" height="1512" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3c59c7e80680e07bb60jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>An empty Nepali Times physical newsroom this week as editorial functions are distributed to journalists working out of home. Photo: NEPALI TIMES </figcaption></figure>Binaj Gurubacharya was in full protective gear, and stood apart from the crowd to observe riot police clash with protesters at the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/police-stop-patan-chariot-pulling-citing-covid-19/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/police-stop-patan-chariot-pulling-citing-covid-19/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599710304883000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGIuYZPchNEGpuS_jMbLR_NOORT_Q">Machhindranath chariot</a> festival on 3 September in Patan.  As the Nepal correspondent for the international news agency Associated Press for the past 25 years, he is used to covering conflict and violence. But reporting on Covid-19 has been a completely different kind of professional hazard.   “No story is worth risking your life for,” said Gurubacharya, whose news stories from Nepal’s war, earthquake and political upheavals have been used by the media all over the world. Reporters like Gurubacharya cannot do their work sitting at home, they have to be right there to witness events first hand. And while he can stand back to look at events unfold from afar, photojournalists and videographers have to get as close to the action as possible. Which is why more than 40 journalists across Nepal have so far tested positive for the novel coronavirus.But the pandemic has affected the work of journalists in other ways. An informal Nepali Times poll through a written questionnaire of nearly 60 journalists this week showed almost half as having their salaries cuts, and most said that job insecurity, financial strain and working from home had hampered their motivation. Although journalists are allowed to move about with their press passes during the past six months of lockdown, most work out of home because they have elderly relatives at and do not want to risk spreading the infection. Many respondents said this had increased pressure on them to turn in meaningful stories for their readers.     Worries about jobs, getting salaries on time, the risk of infection during reporting, as well as maintaining high journalistic standards have added to the mental stress faced by journalists. Two in every three respondents in the survey said they faced uncertainty about their careers.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-journalists-are-also-on-the-frontlines/">Nepal's journalists are also on the frontlines</a>, Nepali Times <figure><img width="4110" height="2912" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3c99c7e80680e07bb61jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A Kathmandu Post journalist giving a swab sample for PCR test in August. Photo courtesy: SHRUTI SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>Ramesh Bista of the Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) sounded busy and distracted even during a telephone interview this week while describing how overwhelming it has been for many of the union’s members. “We are trying to help journalists, while at the same time also negotiate better terms with their owners and for some kind of relief. However, most media companies decided to cut their losses too early to save themselves, and did not address the welfare of their employees,” Bista says. One of the first high profile casualties of the crisis in Nepal’s media was Hari Bahadur Thapa, the editor of Annapurna Post daily, who resigned in May, citing differences with management over salary cuts and layoffs of his colleagues. “I could not be enjoying the perks while my news team suffered, I had to quit,” Thapa told Nepali Times. Since then, there have been many other layoffs and resignations. Thapa agrees that some media companies used the Covid-19 crisis as an excuse to cut costs by laying off employees. He says: “The management could have continued to pay salaries via their other investments, but many of them did not display basic morals and learn humanitarian standards.”<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/journalism-is-not-a-crime/">Journalism is not a crime...</a>, Namrata SharmaMany journalists who filled out the questionnaire for the survey spoke off the record about how their work has changed. One reporter wrote: ‘Journalists should get their pay on time and other facilities whether it is a pandemic or not. Media houses cannot curtail the rights of journalists on the pretext of the pandemic.’At a time when the media’s role is more important than ever to disseminate information to the public about preventive measures against the coronavirus, to correct falsehoods especially on social media, and to prevent panic, it is the media companies themselves and reporters who are fighting for survival. With people locked up at home, the use of social media platforms has shot up. While most of it is for entertainment apps like TikTok and YouTube, there are also many dubious sites spreading rumours and unverified information.“There is a lot of news in the mainstream press also that has caused confusion and panic, and that is because we cannot get hold of sources or government officials, and telephone conversations will never bring out originality and depth as a field report does,” says <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/author/janakraj-sapkota" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Janakraj Sapkota</a>, an investigative journalist at the daily Kantipur.<a href="https://youtu.be/L7-w7_jXD1E">Shooting a lockdown</a>, Nepali Timeshttps://youtu.be/L7-w7_jXD1EIndeed, nearly all respondents said working from home, they were not satisfied with their own journalistic output. Of the nearly 60 journalists surveyed, 50 said they suffered Covid-19 fatigue, and reporting on the daily statistics of the number of new cases and daily fatalities was becoming monotonous. There is another aspect of their work that is stressing out journalists: becoming easy targets for online trollers. Many reporters, especially women, say they have faced much more abuse and backlash for their stories than they did before the pandemic. Sabina Shrestha, reporter at the portal, Setopati, suffered that first hand for her reporting on Rato Machindranath last week. “I don’t know why people have become so angry, the hate mongering tweets are toxic, but I personally don’t let it affect me. For us journalists, we should just avoid such platforms and not let them get at us,” she says.Nearly one-fourth of the respondents in the survey said they got little support or feedback from their editors. Partly, this was because the reporters are working from home, but there appears to be a communication gap with the desk.‘It's becoming more one-sided, we don't know what our senior editors want, and how they see our articles and what they think about it,’ wrote one reporter. ‘Often times, it's only when something goes wrong that we get to hear from them. There is no editorial direction or guidance.’We put that to the editor of Nagarik daily Guna Raj Luitel, who replied that editors also have their hands full with editorial and managerial chores, but underlined the importance of good two-way communication with reporters. “The reporters are working under a lot of stress, which is why the editor’s role is even more important. We have to help them get connected to their sources, and ease their workload,” Luitel told us.<hr/> Selected comments from the Nepali Times survey questionnaire: ‘We journalists at the moment are frontliners, earlier, we used to meet people, have a long conversation/discussion the issues to be covered. We could actually have a face to face conversation, which means we could grill them and ask follow up questions. We used to travel places and meet new people. We used to attend seminars, training, and discussions. After Covid-19, we are confined in a room.’ <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3cd9c7e80680e07bb62png.png" title="" alt=""> ‘As a journalist, you want to be on the ground speaking with your sources and witnessing the issue you are reporting on first hand. Covid-19 has greatly limited our ability to do so,’ wrote another reporter. ‘Now we have to take calculated risks. This affects not just the quality of our work but also our motivation level. But the story needs to be told, so we adapt and use the resources available.’  <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3cf9c7e80680e07bb63png.png" title="" alt=""> ‘Before, it was more engaging and the possibility to do stories was endless. Now, we have to stay in our homes, seek ideas and only do stories that are possible during the lockdown.’ <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3d09c7e80680e07bb64png.png" title="" alt=""> ‘On most days, I feel like we have been grounded, as we don't know which offices are open and which are not. We don't know the timings of people. In an office space, it's easier to get in touch with sources more easily because you can map them through discussion and on the basis of who may know whom. But when working from home, you spend more time looking at your phone and messaging people and waiting to hear from them so that you can finally reach your source. And most people prefer talking over the phone or the internet, but the connection is always a problem.’ <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3d09c7e80680e07bb65png.png" title="" alt="">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-puts-nepals-media-in-intensive-care/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lockdown puts Nepal's media in intensive care</a>, Raju Baskota

Pandemic stress grips Nepal’s journalists

<figure><img width="747" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba78a9c7e80680e07378cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>In the past week, two photojournalists and several reporters at a digital news portal have tested positive for SARS-CoV-2. The group Photo Journalists Nepal is organising PCR tests for all its members in the coming weeks.    Being on-site on the frontlines is also exerting a mental strain on journalists across the country as they have the constant fear of exposure and transmitting to elderly family members at home. They are also worried about losing their jobs, as media companies start laying off staff.This in turn is affecting the quality and quantity of news delivered by agencies. On the other hand, the financial fragility of media companies also affects their independence as they come to depend more on government support or advertising revenue.  A nation-wide survey carried out by the Nepal Press Institute and the University of Bournemouth found a rise in mental strain complaints among Nepali journalists. The poll was conducted between 10-24 July, and involved 1,134 journalists from all seven provinces. Of those surveyed, 83% said they worried about increased risk of infection, 75% said they feared the situation would get worse – as it did in the subsequent weeks after the survey was conducted. And 62% reported personal discomfort, and 28% were even losing sleep.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7-w7_jXD1EAside from worry about their health, reporters also said the uncertainty about their jobs and not getting salary on time was also causing mental stress. As many as 74% of the journalists polled said they had already suffered financially from the crisis, while 6.3% lost their jobs altogether, while 38% had salary cuts. These numbers are now higher because several more publications have shut down in the past month.  Even in July, the survey already showed that mental health was becoming a problem among frontline media practitioners. A quarter of those polled reported experiencing bouts of depression or frustration, and 60% constantly worried about their ability to support their families.   Finance Minister Yubaraj Khatiwada has proposed an aid package for cash-strapped journalists through the Coronavirus Relief Fund, and discussions with media support organisations are said to be underway.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-locked-down-nepal-print-is-still-king/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-locked-down-nepal-print-is-still-king/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598416952991000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEm4pi2b_c74e39buscgy9bCs1qCQ">Print publications</a> have been particularly affected by the pandemic, with 55% journalists reporting a drop in the number of pages in their outlets, while 48% said there was a reduction in frequency of their editions. Many news agencies have also been forced to go online only, even as readership migrates from print to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-are-drifting-to-digital-media/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-are-drifting-to-digital-media/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598416952991000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFr3phi8yhoDHvT49nzYXRb3561DQ">online sites and internet coverage grows. </a>The survey reported a drop in the quality of audio and visual news broadcasts, as 20% of journalists felt they were spending less time doing their reporting or editing work.UPDATE 28 August: The Federation of Nepalese Journalists revealed that 71 media persons across Nepal have tested positive. Of them,  the most (27) are in Province 2.

Nepal’s journalists are also on the frontlines

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/waiting-for-bipin-joshi" target="_blank">Nepali student Bipin Joshi</a>, who was taken captive by Hamas on 7 October 2023, was not on the list of those freed following the end of the bombardment and fighting in Gaza.&nbsp; On Monday morning, the Israeli military notified Bipin's family and Nepal’s ambassador to Israel Dhan Prasad Pandit, that there is no evidence of him still being alive. However, Nepal's Foreign Ministry is yet to be notified by Israel's government of Bipin's status. The news came three days after a US-brokered ceasefire between Israel and Hamas came into effect, and hostage and prisoner exchanges by the two sides started Monday morning.&nbsp; Almost 2,000 Palestinians held in Israeli prisions are expected to be released by Israel in exchange for the hostages during the next phase of the peace deal between the two parties, and the bodies of deceased hostages remaining in Gaza are also expected to be returned.&nbsp; Bipin Joshi was among a group of Nepalis who had arrived in Israel in 2023 just weeks before 7 October 2023 as part of a ‘learn and earn’ program to work and earn in kibbutz farms there.&nbsp; Along with other students Joshi had been working on a farm in Kibbutz Alumim in southern Israel near Gaza. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/war-in-israel-earthquake-and-grief-in-nepal">Ten Nepali students were killed </a>while taking cover in shelters near their farms in two separate attacks by Hamas fighters.&nbsp; Joshi’s colleagues, fellow Nepalis who survived the attack, recall gunmen lobbing two grenades into the bunker that they had taken cover in. Bipin hurled one of the grenades out, they say, but the other one exploded, killing and injuring Nepalis inside. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Shortly after, Bipin was captured by Hamas along with a Thai national and led away into Gaza. CCTV footage showed Bipin alive and at a hospital in Gaza on the day of the attack itself after he was taken hostage.&nbsp; Thirty-one Thai citizens, who like Nepalis worked in farms in Israel, were taken hostage during the Hamas attack, the highest number of foreign captives in October 2023.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deft-diplomacy-freed-thai-hostages">Deft Thai diplomatic engagement</a> with officials from Iran, Egypt, and Qatar brought about the release of 23 of its nationals in 2023. Five more Thai nationals were released earlier this year.&nbsp; In August, Joshi’s family visited Israel at the invitation of the government and urged the international community to push for his return. Bipin’s mother Padma and sister Pushpa have been at the United Nations to lobby for his release.&nbsp; His family last week also released a video clip of Bipin briefly speaking on camera, reportedly obtained by Israel and said to be filmed in November 2023, around a month after he was taken captive. Joshi looks healthy in that video.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251013091028_d551c7f88204c52217152fb5db655bb5a5f8bf2cff1e6a055326ebf64453ff9f.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251013091028_d551c7f88204c52217152fb5db655bb5a5f8bf2cff1e6a055326ebf64453ff9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2848" height="1528" loading="lazy" alt="Bipin Joshi NT"> </figure>  More than 67,000 Palestinians have been killed during the last two years of the genocide in Gaza. About 1,200 people were killed during the Hamas attack on 7 October 2023, while more than 251, including Bipin Joshi, were taken as captives.&nbsp; This is the third ceasefire implemented in Gaza since 7 October 2023 after previous ones in November 2023 and January 2025. This 20-point deal facilitated by intermediaries US, Qatar, Turkey, and Egypt included terms for Hamas to give up its arms, and for a devastated Gaza to be governed by a Palestinian body of independent technocrats, while Israeli troops will withdraw in stages from Gaza.&nbsp; Hamas has agreed to relinquish control of Gaza, but has rejected the demand for disarmament, saying the group will demobilise but is prepared to resume fighting if Israel breaches the ceasefire.&nbsp; Following the ceasefire, Palestinians in Gaza have begun long journeys back to homes reduced to rubble by Israel’s two-year assault on the strip. The flow of humanitarian aid in the city has also increased following the peace deal.&nbsp; Israel's closure of humanitarian corridors in the past months had blocked the entry of food and medicine into Gaza, causing widespread famine. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) has said that the restriction of aid into the beseiged city has left as many as <a href="https://www.unrwa.org/newsroom/news-releases/gaza-unrwa%E2%80%99s-lancet-study-reveals-alarming-surge-child-malnutrition">54,600 children acutely malnourished</a>.&nbsp; Meanwhile, US president Donald Trump landed in Israel on Monday as hostages were being released, and world leaders are expected to head to Egypt for an international summit to discuss the next steps in Gaza, Israel, and West Asia.&nbsp;

Nepali hostage in Gaza not alive: Israel

Scenic Phortse in the lap of Mt Everest is called ‘the village of mountaineers’ because just about every household has someone who has summited the world’s highest mountain multiple times. However, while the international mountaineers they assist to make it to the top go on to fame and glory, their Sherpa guides from Phortse <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/without-sherpas-there-is-no-mountaineering" target="_blank">barely get a mention</a>. It is a risky occupation for Nepal’s high altitude guides, and every other family in this village has lost a member in Himalayan expeditions. Sherpa guides are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities" target="_blank">disproportionately more at risk </a>on Mt Everest because they have to traverse the Khumbu Icefall many times during an expedition. One third of the over 300 climbers who have died climbing Mt Everest are Nepali high altitude guides and porters. In 2014, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/everest-dangerous-place-to-work,1316" target="_blank">16 guides were killed</a> when an avalanche fell on them while going up the treacherous Icefall carrying expedition gear. Then in 2015, the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/big-drops-in-Everest-bookings-affect-livelihoods-of-Nepali-high-altitude-guides,2048" target="_blank">earthquake triggered a massive avalanche</a> that killed 22 climbers at Base Camp. Many of the fatalities in both years were Sherpa guides from Phortse. Despite the danger, Phortse honours and celebrates its climbers like heroes. One such is the late &nbsp;Nima Tshiring Sherpa, who was a porter and guide in the 1953 John Hunt expedition in which Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay became the first to set foot on the world’s highest summit.&nbsp; Nima Tshiring and his eldest son Pasang Gyalzen both reached 8,000m carrying expedition gear for the Hunt expedition in 1953. Nima Tshiring had eight sons and a daughter and although he never submitted himself, most of them have climbed Mt Everest at least once. In fact, his children and grandchildren have been to the top of Mt Everest a total of 81 times — a record for any family in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171048_a55e45bee2b5bbf38e4ee5bcea101edcc3041f40e331b8fee44e473457f42553.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251011171048_a55e45bee2b5bbf38e4ee5bcea101edcc3041f40e331b8fee44e473457f42553" data-rendition-name="original" width="2144" height="1436" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Nima Tshiring Sherpa with wife and children in Phortse. An unanmed Everest climber on right.</figcaption> </figure>  “We were born in Phortse which is in the lap of Everest, our identity is Chomolungma,” says one of his sons, Panuru, using the Sherpa name for the mountain. “In fact, I feel our entire family was born to climb Everest.”&nbsp; Phortse has a population of 350 people living in 95 households. Besides Nima Tshiring’s clan, more than 75 of the inhabitants have climbed Everest, many of them multiple times.&nbsp; Another one of Nima Tshiring’s sons, Ngawang climbed Everest 11 times, his brother Mingma Dorje has summited 14 times, and another brother Ngati not only got to the top seven times, but was the first climber to reach the peak from the Chinese side and descend down the Nepal part of Mt Everest. Ngati was killed in an avalanche on Annapurna while climbing with an American expedition in 1993.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171044_60693527b31aba22fe6f6c233cf367a3683b88be8dc2a53bfb5c2c02b2db1e5b.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251011171044_60693527b31aba22fe6f6c233cf367a3683b88be8dc2a53bfb5c2c02b2db1e5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2242" height="1660" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Mingma Dorje has climbed Everest 14 times.</figcaption> </figure>  Panuru himself has reached the summit of Everest 16 times, and set up the<a href="https://www.khumbuclimbingcenter.com/" target="_blank"> Khumbu Climbing Centre</a> in 2003 to train others in climbing techniques. Following in his footsteps was another brother Mingma Tshiring, who has been up 15 times and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/sherpaland-co-usa" target="_blank">now lives in Colorado</a>.&nbsp; Nima Tshiring’s only daughter Mingma Yanjin has also climbed Cho Oyu, Ama Dablam and other &nbsp;Himalayan mountains. Her husband Lhakpa Chiri Sherpa has climbed Everest 11 times. Counting him, the total summits for the family would be 92. This number also does not include other Himalayan eight-thousanders besides Mt Everest that the family from Phortse has summited. Nima Tsiring’s youngest son is Danuru who has climbed Everest 16 times, and has been on top of North American peaks from his base in Colorado. He is giving Everest yet another try.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171048_cd3e2961567ca507fc4110c97e01d85ee1c7e35f787276564ff59a4a76151fe2.png" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251011171048_cd3e2961567ca507fc4110c97e01d85ee1c7e35f787276564ff59a4a76151fe2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1308" height="980" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Nima Tshiring Sherpa and his son Danuru.</figcaption> </figure>  Even his grandchildren are following Nima Tshiring’s footsteps up Everest. Panuru’s son Lhakpa has climbed Everest from both sides and wants to break previous Everest records.&nbsp; “It is a dangerous occupation, but the rewards in terms of fame and money are substantial,” says Danuru. “One season’s income is enough for a Phortse climber to support his family for a year. And we have Chomolungma to be thankful for.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251011171048_d1f16e3925890663cadf3e20d955a531f21c479708f662df371fad3fdb87cf7a.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251011171048_d1f16e3925890663cadf3e20d955a531f21c479708f662df371fad3fdb87cf7a" data-rendition-name="original" width="760" height="1040" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpa climbers"> <figcaption>Mingma Chhiring Sherpa who has climbed the Everest 16 times with a client.</figcaption> </figure>

Nepal’s most prolific mountaineering clan

National interest vs community needs

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

journalists

Reporter's diary of 8-9 September

“I may not be alive by the time I am evacuated”

From the frontlines of Nepal’s war

Nepal braces for new wave with vaccine drive

Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

Staying positive to become negative

Staying positive to become negative

Pandemic stress grips Nepal’s journalists

Nepal’s journalists are also on the frontlines

Nepali hostage in Gaza not alive: Israel

Nepal’s most prolific mountaineering clan

National interest vs community needs

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks