<figure><img width="1366" height="630" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205d89c7e80680e0b28dbjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Jaglal Dagaura Tharu tends to his nursery in Kailali district.</figcaption></figure>After living most of his life as a bonded labourer, Jaglal Dagaura Tharu is building a home on a plot of land that he can finally call his own. Having started a successful nursery, the former landless family is now financially independent.Jaglal, 57, was born into a life of indentured servitude with his parents who were <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nothing-to-lose-but-their-chains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bonded labourers</a> at the house of a local zamindar landlord. This traditional system of modern-day slavery known as the kamaiya system was widespread in Nepal’s western plains until it was abolished twenty years ago.The young Jaglal grew up working all day long looking after the zamindar’s livestock at the edge of the forest. At age 12, he was ‘lent’ to a neighbour’s household to slave away for three years before returning to his original ‘owner’ Shyamlal Chaudhari.He got married, had a family of his own, but continued working for the landlord with four other brothers who were all also <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Modern-day-domestic-slaves-domestic-workers,3785" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bonded labourers</a>. With no income or property of their own, they had no way of freeing themselves from a life of slavery.But in 1979, when the Nepal Punarvas Company started distributing land to landless squatters, Jaglal’s father filled in an application. Three years later, the family received a 0.3 hectare plot in Kailali. It was a start.“We made a small hut but we did not have enough to eat so I remained a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19418#.YfeHIy2B3-Y" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">kamaiya</a> for a few more years,” says Jaglal but he had already started looking at how to put the land to the best use.In 2000, he joined the District Forest Office to work in its nursery with a salary of Rs1,500 a month. Two years later, he was contracted to set up a new nursery for the office. There, for every sapling, he used to get Rs2 and his monthly income rose to Rs25,000.For the next 13 years, he worked at the Kailali District Forest Office, sent his son to a school with his earnings and even bought a piece of land. Jalal gets four batches of seeds every year in his nursery and makes up to Rs150,000 selling the seedlings. In 2018, he bought a motorcycle with the money he made from selling the seeds. <figure><img width="1366" height="630" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205db9c7e80680e0b28dcjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“When you have your own land, you reap all the benefits of your labour too, the result of my hard work is mine alone unlike when you slave away at someone else’s farm,” says Jaglal, who has managed to send a son to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/europe-now-favoured-destination-for-nepalis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Romania for work</a>, and bought another plot where he is finally building a home of his own. In July 2000, the Nepal government abolished the kamaiya system and liberated some 32,500 bonded labourers from districts in the western plains including Dang, Banke, Bardia, Kailali and Kanchanpur. Many of the former bonded labourers now have land in their own name thanks to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ground-reality-of-landlessness-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">state sponsored land distribution</a>. With better access to education and healthcare, their lifestyle has also improved. Ramkumari Chaudhari, 45, was also born into a bonded labourer family near Dhangadi. Her parents married her off when she was young to a man who was also forced into a life of indentured servitude. Ramkumari with her husband Sanjay managed to sharecrop on land from the zamindar for vegetable farming. But when the landowner saw their success, he nullified the agreement and decided to farm himself. “If you want to make something of yourself in this country and be independent, you need a land of your own,” says Ramkumari, and the couple has managed to buy a small plot for their farm with a government grant. What started as a small business with two pigs has now expanded into a large swine farm spread in 0.2 hectares of land which earns them Rs40,000 a month. Ramkumari also runs a profitable vegetable farm on the side so the pigs get to eat the excess vegetables and the farm benefits from fertiliser from the sty. “We just had a hut before, but now we have a nice house. We have also bought a tractor for our farm,” says Ramkumari. “We no longer face the kind of hardships and mistreatment we did when we were kamaiya, we work without a worry. And the best thing is that your hard work earns you money.” Ramkumari and Sanjay can now afford to send their two sons to college, but the fact that many other neighbourhood children have not been able to continue their study worries her. They risk falling back to leading a l<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-slave-to-entrepreneur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ife of indentured servitude</a>, she points out. Radha Chaudhari, 36, of Dhangadi municipality is also getting ready to build her own house. Her husband Navaraj was a bonded labour from birth in Rajapur of Bardia and came to this town after being freed. <figure><img width="1366" height="630" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205df9c7e80680e0b28ddjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But when the family did not receive any land, Navraj and Radha worked odd jobs to support their family. Navraj trained hard and is now a much sought-after mason.The government finally gave them a tiny plot of land near Dhangadi bazar, a prime location where they are planning to build their house and rent out the rest. “Our place is close to the market, which means better access to education, health facilities and jobs, we couldn’t be happier,” says Radha.In the two decades since they were freed, many <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">former kamaiya</a> have found their feet. This is a success story of how former slaves have struggled to find independence, dignity and self-respect. But there are still some families who have fallen between the cracks.With the new federal system, the rehabilitation of kamaiyas was handed over to the local governments and many families found the paperwork too confusing and complicated and faced confusion and delays.There are 8,910 freed kamaiya families in the Kailali district, and most of them have been rehabilitated. But some 380 families are still waiting despite having an ID and land ownership documents.

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Owning land gives former slaves self-respect

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77de9c7e80680e064660jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1253"/><figcaption>Shanta Chaudhary.</figcaption></figure>Shanta Chaudhary’s journey from kamlari to Member of Parliament has been a long and difficult one. The harrowing details of her childhood as a slave are recorded in her 2013 biography <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kamlari Dekhi Sabhasad Samma.</a>At the age of eight, Chaudhary was ‘leased’ for Rs7,000 to her ‘owner’ in Dang, and years of trauma followed. “I could withstand the physical pain,” Chaudhary told the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19418#.Xl-JYSEzbIV" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Times in a profile from 2012</a>. “But what was unbearable was not being able to see my parents.”Chaudhary had a burning desire to go to school as did the children of the family she was indentured to, and to read and play like others her age. But all she was allowed to do was stand in a corner and watch the family's children dress in their uniforms and leave for their lessons. As a teenager, Chaudhary defended herself from unwanted advances of men in the household and married her friend Harsha Lal for companionship and to keep herself safe.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77e19c7e80680e064661jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="237"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure> Read Also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=41653&amp;preview_nonce=6e1c391959&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pratima Sherpa swings for pro</a>, Sanghamitra Subba<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=41633&amp;preview_nonce=1a5fef970e&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Trail-running trail blazer</a>, Sanghamitra SubbaChaudhary’s desire for justice led her to join the UML party and she was nominated to the Constituent Assembly in 2008. Along the way, she taught herself to read and write. Chaudhary was diagnosed with cancer of the uterus in 2016, but is responding well to treatment.“I have struggled a lot in my life, and I got to tick cancer off my list too,” Chaudhary told us this week in between Parliament committee meetings. She takes her job as a law-maker seriously and says that after her tenure in Parliament is over, she will continue to work to remove the last vestiges of modern-day slavery from Nepal.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=41606&amp;preview_nonce=6d2bb56d9f&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Coming Soon: Ani Choying, the movie</a>,  Alisha Sijapati<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=41677&amp;preview_nonce=28a6e8e67c&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A goddess among people</a>, Shristi KarkiShe adds: “I want to fight for those who cannot stand up for themselves. I never want a child or any human being to go through the same pain and struggle as I did.”

From kamlari to MP

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933659c7e80680e03df97jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="787"/><figcaption>STAGE FRIGHT: On the popular tv show Nepal Idol, guest Sandip Chhetri, the comedian, hugs host Reema Bishwokarma as she cries out "Me Too!" Chhetri says "Me Three" and the other host Asif Shah jokes "Me Five!"</figcaption></figure>Viewers of the popular reality tv show Nepal Idol got a rude shock last week when guest Sandip Chhetri hugged host Reema Bishwokarma, apparently against her will. She cringed, backed off, then complained playfully, “Me too!”Chhetri retorted, “Me three!” Host Asif Shah joined in on the merriment with “Me four, me five!” The audience roared.This was the latest example of just how little understood (or misunderstood) the #MeToo movement in Nepal is, how harassment of women is accepted as normal, and victims do not have platforms for protest.A year after American actress Alyssa Milano went on Twitter to ask victims of Harvey Weinstein to use the hashtag, the aftershocks finally arrived in Nepal, but only after India was rocked by accusations against Bollywood musicians, journalists, actors, and former editor and now minister M J Akbar who had to step down.In Nepal, while the movement generated debate on social media and some women including journalists Subina Shrestha and Meena Kaini and theatre artist Akanchha Karki have spoken up, only one person has been named. Former journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan accused Province 3 minister and former Kathmandu mayor, Keshav Sthapit, of harassing them.Doubtless, it has been difficult for women to speak out even though the #MeToo movement has made their accusations credible for the first time. But most Nepali women with horrific accounts of mistreatment and cruelty are outside the public sphere, or do not want to speak out because of stigma.Leaving aside rape and domestic violence, even workplace abuse of power that #Metoo has been associated with has not come out. Long before #MeToo, actresses Shreesha Karki in 2002 and Jessica Khadka in 2012 committed suicide after their nude images were leaked – indicating that sexual abuse has been rampant in Nepal’s entertainment industry.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4364#.W9q-ptUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Patriarchy, female freedom</a>, Shrisha Karki <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5352#.W9q-tNUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Putting the media on trial</a>, Manjushree ThapaAside from film and media, there are also the dance bars, cabin restaurants, dohori (duet-song) venues and massage parlours in which up to 50,000 young women are employed as entertainers. Most have been abused, says former dohori singer Sirjana Pun and founder of the Women Forum for Women.“Customers do not treat women as professionals, but as animals they can abuse at will,” says Pun. “We have nowhere to go for redress, because the police refuse to register our complaints. Things are changing slowly, but the complaints are still more about labour contract violations than sexual abuse, because those go nowhere.”Surprisingly, even Pun has not heard of the #MeToo movement, and neither have most trafficked women who have survived unspeakable violations. Sapna Poudel at <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/starting-the-second-chapter,3114" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shakti Samuha</a>, which was founded by trafficked women, says: “Women here have experienced dreadful sexual abuse, but many do not even open up to their counselors, let alone go public with accusations.”As the #MeToo movement gains more traction in Nepal, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/nepali-organisation-shakti-samuha-french-republic-human-rights-award,2072" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shakti Samuha</a> is planning to orient survivors, so they can decide whether they want to go public. Few women trafficked to brothels in Nepal, India or overseas and suffer sexual abuse come out, and others in occupations not covered by labour laws like household help have nowhere to complain about sexual abuse.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/epicentre-trafficking-migration,3256" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Epicenter of trafficking</a>, Om Astha Rai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18564#.W9rAVdUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The missing half</a>, Kapildev KhanalThe Kamlari system of bonded labour was prevalent in western Nepal till it was outlawed in 2006. Former Kamlari Bishnu Chaudhari, 24, has horror stories about slavery and abuse of generations of women from her community. It was common for employers to rape young Kamlaris, father children and abandon them. Chaudhari’s aunt committed suicide at 21 after word spread that she was pregnant.“We face our abusers every day in the village, but we do not want to rake up the past. Abused women have settled into their new lives, they do not want the stigma from reopening old cases,” says Chaudhari, who is studying to be a lawyer but has not heard of #MeToo. Nor have most of the 13,000 former Kamlari who want to focus on difficult battles for recognition, identity and ancestral property for children born of abuse. Most of the 20,000 Badi women whose traditional occupation used to be the sex trade have not heard of #MeToo either.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12487#.W9rChdUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kamlaris in Dang</a>, Suman Pradhan<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13163#.W9rCjdUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">At home, at work</a>, Jemima SherpaEven though 63% of Nepalis now have access to the Internet, the #MeToo movement here is limited to a small circle of educated people. There are headlines about murder, rape, assault, coercion, manipulation and harrassment, and detractors are using the distinction to undermine the movement.Outside Nepal, many #MeToo accusers are now facing a troll backlash, and in Nepal many women in media, entertainment, and corporates have remained silent. Former mayor Keshav Sthapit mocked the movement by calling the accusations “a rape of men’s rights”.Nepal’s #MeToo movement has lost some of its momentum as other campaigns against abuse like #JusticeforNirmala and #RageAgainstRape remain more effective on social media. The possibility of #MeToo movement helping obtain justice for victims in Nepal remains dim.But Namrata Sharma, Chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism, has not lost hope. “Twenty years ago, when women activists demanded equal property rights for daughters, people laughed. But today we have that law,” she says. “Likewise, most women may not have heard of #MeToo today, some may poke fun at it, or it may be limited to a small circle, but it is a start. With time, it will help women come out, and end sexual assault.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/daughter-slaughter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Daughter Slaughter</a>, Monika Deupala<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/four-fold-increase-in-reported-rape-in-10-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Four-fold increase in reported rape in 10 years</a>, Sewa BhattaraiUpdate on 2 Nov: Province 3 Chief Minister Dormani Poudel has fired Provincial Minister Keshav Sthapit (minister for Physical Infrastructure and Development) after an altercation at a cabinet meeting.<h2>Belaboured laws</h2>As the #MeToo movement gains momentum, questions have also been raised about why victims are taking to social media instead of going through proper legal channels. However, are the labour laws of Nepal adequate to curb workplace harassment?Many legal professionals do not think so. Nepal’s Sexual Harassment Prevention Act came into effect in 2015, which defines workplace as “entities owned by government, corporate bodies or institutions, and firms licensed to carry out business.” This definition leaves out vast areas where women work in and are abused, like household labour and informal sector.The law does define many acts of harassment, but gives the victims only ninety days to complain about them. “Three months is not enough, victims should be able to complain about harassment any time they want to,” says senior advocate and women’s rights activist Meera Dhungana.Dhungana also finds the punishment for the crimes too mild. While offenders may be jailed for six months or pay a fine of Rs. 50,000, their supervisor can also solve the problem by transferring them.  “If the offender is transferred, he or she may continue offending at another location. It is not a deterrent at all,” says Dhungana. “Higher fines and jail terms can make offenders think twice before they commit such crimes.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Online-violence-against-women,2915" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Online violence against women</a>, Sahina Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/how-does-the-nepali-media-cover-rape/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">How does the Nepali media cover rape?</a>, Bhrikuti Rai

#TheyToo

‘One early morning, we heard the ambassador’s wife cry out, “Ram, Ram, Ram!” A disaster has befallen Nepal!” She had heard on the radio that a fire had consumed Singha Durbar." This is not about the arson attack on 9 September 2025, but the one on 8 July, 1973. It started in the South Wing of the then single-largest building in all of Nepal. It took two days to bring the blaze under control, requiring the use of explosives to demolish one wing to protect the imposing western facade. As Bhekh Bahadur Thapa recalls in the English translation of his memoir A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy, he was then on leave from the Nepal government serving with the IDRC in Ottawa.&nbsp; He had already served as Nepal’s Finance Secretary at age 25, went on to be Finance Minister and Governor of Nepal Rastra Bank. He was already younger than some of the GenZ ministers in Nepal’s present RSP government. Thapa, now 89, was at the launch of the book in February which was attended by former diplomats and bureaucrats. After speeches by panelists, there was a question from the audience about how Thapa had managed to be the diplomat he was, managing Nepal’s international relations on the world stage.&nbsp; Writer and journalist Akhilesh Upadhyay, who was moderating the panel, responded by going into the section of the book where we see Thapa as an ambassador to the US, playing tennis with White House officials, cultivating a network of contacts to project the identity and welfare of Nepal, and making it possible for a state visit by King Birendra to Ronald Reagan’s America. The book is full of anecdotes that suggest Thapa was a clever and strategic diplomat, always calm and unruffled, easily making friends in high places with his maturity and engaging sense of humour. Thapa’s memoir is heavy on details about Nepal’s administrative history during the years he was active in public service, serving as minister and ambassador under three kings: Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra, and alongside five prime ministers.&nbsp; Aside from an insider look on how certain treaties, development deals and research projects in Nepal came into fruition, Thapa goes into great detail about his personal and professional relationships with the kings, ministers, ambassadors, foreign leaders and politicians.&nbsp; As a reader, one is struck by the level of detail around the events that unfolded in Nepal over the years during Thapa’s tenure. Was Thapa recording a journal over the years of the events and the conversations that transpired, or were they committed to his phenomenal memory? Either way, the reader gets a glimpse of Nepal’s recent history from the early days of the Panchayat, through the People’s Movement and the democracy period, the Maoist insurgency, Royal Palace massacre of 2001, and Gyanendra’s coup of 2005.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1584" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How to win friends and influence nations NT"> </figure>  Not enough is said about the political parties of the time whose presence led to the way Nepal’s multiparty democracy came to be shaped. The book keeps its focus on the administration and the key figures around it, mostly those in the Panchayat era. Towards the second half of the book, we do start to hear about political parties, but not in great depth. Another figure whose presence in the book is conspicuously less prominent is that of his wife, Rita Thapa — the person who seems to have rescued him every time financial quandary or family care became a challenge. Yet, we do not see her as a full person. Perhaps because of the personal tragedies in his life, the children are also barely mentioned.&nbsp; The book is therefore less personal and more technical. Throughout, we learn about Thapa’s thinking as he navigated the world of diplomacy to win him the trust of those who mattered. There are tips here for a new generation of Nepali officials and diplomats about how much commitment and focus is needed to be good at one’s job and serve the national interest. This book adds to tomes that have been written on Nepal’s fragile relationship with India. ‘India has always wished for Nepal to remain dependent on it,’ writes Thapa, who served as Nepal’s ambassador to India and later in the Eminent Persons Group &nbsp;on Indo-Nepal relations that has been allowed to languish. The book has several insights into the Indo-Nepal trysts with diplomacy and agency.&nbsp; China’s role is also recorded, viewed through conversations during a visit to Beijing, but all that was before Nepal’s neighbour to the north emerged as a world economic and military power. The book also has such sudden instances of quirkiness and humour. For instance, we see a young Thapa in America explaining to a government official why he would like to return to Nepal instead of settling down in the US. “Because, Nepal is beautiful,” he said. The text is immaculate and does not read much like a translation, credit for which clearly goes to the team that put the edition together: translator Prawin Adhikari, &nbsp;Anagha Neelakanthan and Bhekh Thapa’s daughter, Manjushree. As Nepal enters a new era of governance and diplomacy, A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy should be essential reading for students of political science, economics and foreign affairs who can gain a fresh perspective on the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; There are dozens of forgotten state secrets recorded in the book, but the reader must also remember this is a story told from one person’s perspective and there may be others.&nbsp; So, what really made Thapa the diplomat he was? I met him in 2004 at the Kantipur TV studio when he was serving as king Gyanendra’s foreign minister. He was there for a studio interview, and I was just done with my English newscast.&nbsp; He surprised me at the door: “Pratibha! I’ve been reading your articles in The Kathmandu Post. You must keep writing.” I thanked him, glad to have been noticed for my work by a stranger. That was perhaps one of the things that set Thapa apart — he excelled at staying close to those in power, while also noticing those who were not.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Book details"> </figure>

How to win friends and influence nations

This is the 91st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

The nation’s daughter

At 6 feet and one inch, Hira Bahadur Ghalan was exceptionally tall for a Nepali. In 1936, when people came to his Tamang village near Tistung looking for porters, they recruited him on the spot. This was no ordinary job, Hira Bahadur would lead gangs of 30 or more porters to carry cars bought by Rana rulers from Bhimphedi to Kathmandu.&nbsp; Those were the days when the only motorable roads in Nepal were in Kathmandu, but the capital was not connected to anywhere else by road. So, before cars could carry people, people had to carry cars. More Nepalis had carried cars than ridden in one. The porters were paid Rs5 for the job, and sometimes the Rana owners gave Hira Bahadur a Rs25 baksheesh. One of the cars his community helped carry was a 1939 Daimler Benz gifted by Adolf Hitler to King Tribhuvan to woo Nepal away from the British. The rusted dusty vehicle is now in the Narayanhiti Palace Museum.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur hauled cars for 25 years until his knees gave way, he died at age 90 eight years ago — the last surviving car porters of Nepal from Chitlang Valley.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur Ghalan had three sons and three daughters, one of them is Maila Kaji Lama, who at age 68, is a chauffeur in Kathmandu. His son, Manjil Lama is a pilot with Summit Air, flying to remote Himalayan airstrips. Three generations of one family worked in professions that followed a century of transportation history in Nepal. &nbsp; After the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-long-and-winding-road-to-india">Tribhuvan Rajpath was finished in 1957</a> and the ropeway upgraded, Hira Bahadur was out of a job. He tilled the family farm, watching trucks and buses headed to and from Kathmandu on the hairpins.&nbsp; As a child, Maila Kaji was fascinated by cars and wished one day to be able to drive one. After he failed Grade 8, he came to Kathmandu in 1975 and got a Rs20/month job at a petrol station in Maiti Devi. “I watched King Birendra’s coronation and was impressed by the glamour of Kathmandu, and decided to stay here,” Maila Kaji says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1974" height="1608" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Maila Kaji</figcaption> </figure>  Former minister Ramesh Nath Pandey used to bring his Volkswagen Beetle to the station, and Maila Kaji started taking care of his car. Later, he drove a Russian Jeep for former minister and geographer Harka Gurung. Along the way, he fell in love with the daughter of a Brahmin colleague, and married her. “My father back in Tistung did not approve of our inter-ethnic marriage, and not speak to me for five years,” Maila Kaji recalls. Manjil Lama grew up in Kathmandu, and did well in science in school. He had wanted to go the US to become a pilot like his friends, but was denied a visa.&nbsp; “The visa officer told him I did not earn enough,” says Maila Kaji, “so I sold some property and sent Manjil to flying school in the Philippines.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537" data-rendition-name="original" width="1434" height="1754" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Manjil Lama</figcaption> </figure>  After returning to Nepal, Manjil Lama now flies Let 410s of Summit Air to difficult air strips like Lukla and Simkot, and has logged over 2,000 hours. He has to go to the Czech Republic regularly for simulator training. Says Maila Kaji Lama: “My father worked hard carrying cars to raise us, I started from scratch to become a driver to support my family, and my son is now a pilot with experience in flying in the world’s toughest terrain.” &nbsp; Watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvT3iTi8yw4" target="_blank">video clip from S Dillon Ripley here</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="1582" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> </figure>

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The nation’s daughter

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