If visitors to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there">Bardia National Park </a>are lucky, they can sometimes spot a bevy of otters frolicking with their pups along <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">the Karnali River.</a> Or they might be out fishing, brown fur gleaming in the sun as they emerge from the water with a fish in the mouth. But on a recent daytime visit to the national park in Kailali, there was no such luck. All that pointed to their presence were tracks on the sand by the banks of the Karnali (pictured, below).&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314030320_9c5ba49b740896453946aedc632f1cb8df8e886cda7107996f5a40893d99f016.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250314030320_9c5ba49b740896453946aedc632f1cb8df8e886cda7107996f5a40893d99f016" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Otters footprint "> <figcaption>Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  When it comes to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">wildlife</a>, the news cycle in Nepal is dominated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-conservation-nepal-is-not-out-of-the-woods-yet">tigers and rhinos</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/is-wildlife-conservation-a-victim-of-its-own-success-in-nepal">conservation success stories</a>. This means other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/lesser-known-endangered-species">endangered mammals </a>like pangolins and otters remain in the shadows.&nbsp; Many Nepalis are not even aware that otters exist in Nepal. There are three species found here: the Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra), Smooth-coated Otter (Lutrogale perspicillata), and Asian Small-clawed Otter (Aonyx cinereus). All are usually nocturnal, or most active at dawn or dusk to avoid predators like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/crocodile-chronicle">crocodiles</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/does-nepal-really-have-too-many-tigers">tigers</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/clouded-future-for-the-clouded-leopard">leopards</a>. Otter species found in Nepal prefer freshwater <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/importance-of-ecosystems-for-people-and-the-planet">ecosystems </a>along fast flowing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Himalayan rivers</a> and the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18976">wetlands</a> that they feed. The Asian Small-clawed Otter feeds on crabs and mollusks, the Smooth-coated otter, primarily found in rivers of Karnali and Narayani, preys on fish, playing a crucial role in maintaining balance in the aquatic ecosystem.&nbsp; Their dependence on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/solution-to-kathmandu-s-water-crisis">clean water</a> makes otters bioindicators, which means their abundance shows a healthy ecosystem and unpolluted water bodies.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-tigers-trees-and-rivers">People, tigers, trees and rivers</a>, Shashank Poudel “Otters hunt in the water, but they spend most of their time on land, often along the boulders and sand on the banks,” explains Arun Sonaha, otter conservation expert from the indigenous Sonaha community. Otter scat contributes to nutrient cycling as well as the fertilisation of riverbanks and wetlands, indirectly promoting vegetation. Smooth-coated Otters and Asian small-clawed Otters prefer lowland habitats. The former have adapted to survive in human-altered landscapes, and have been found to reside in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pouring-concrete-on-rice-fields">rice fields</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/infrastructure-for-wildlife-in-nepal">irrigation canals</a>.&nbsp; However, Eurasian Otters adapt to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-must-prepare-for-climate-migration">seasonal changes</a> by moving up to 3,660m during the summer, and migrating to lower elevations in the winter. The presence of Eurasian Otters has been recorded in 24 districts across Nepal, while the Smooth-coated and Asian Small-clawed species have been documented in 12 districts. Otters have been spotted in the Karnali, Narayani, Kosi, and Mahakali <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-nepal-ignore-climate-crisis-in-river-talks">river systems</a>. The smallest of the 13 known otter species, Asian Small-clawed otters, were recorded in Nepal for the first time in 185 years earlier this year in February in Dadeldhura.&nbsp; “We track the movement of Smooth-coated Otters using 18 camera traps in Bardia,” explains Aashish Kapali from the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/world-lost-2-3-of-its-animals-in-50-years-wwf-report">World Wildlife Fund (WWF) Nepal</a>. Smooth-coated otters have still been observed in healthy numbers along the Karnali, but the otter population is in decline. The smooth-coated otter and Asian small-clawed are currently listed as ‘vulnerable’ in the IUCN Red List, while the Eurasian Otter is ‘near endangered’.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314030324_f20e9290f9e92401be7a5c8c53d080c80e8c0583fa991def89bb3081329255dd.png" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20250314030324_f20e9290f9e92401be7a5c8c53d080c80e8c0583fa991def89bb3081329255dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1521" loading="lazy" alt="Otters 2"> <figcaption>PHOTO: SAGAR GIRI/ WWF NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/rivers-be-dammed">River damming</a>, indiscriminate and illegal fishing, changing rainfall patterns and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/decarbonisation-needs-to-begin-today">extreme weather</a>, rapid urbanisation in Nepal’s lowlands have contributed to loss of otter habitats and depletion of food sources. Pollution from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/20-years-ago-this-week/clearing-the-air-ha86ztz4">raw sewage and industrial waste </a>has also added to<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal"> habitat degradation</a> while <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/banned-pesticides-are-widely-used-in-nepal">pesticides </a>have directly impacted their prey population. “The pesticides sprayed on fields drain into the rivers, affecting the fish population,” says Kapali. “This reverberates across the food chain and affects otter numbers.”&nbsp; Until a few years ago, otter poaching also ran rampant. Between 1989 and 2017, 755 otter pelts were confiscated in Nepal but <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18566">communities living along the Karnali </a>have since stepped up efforts to protect the mammals. “Our continuous conservation efforts have meant that we currently do not have issues with poaching,” says Sonaha. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/protecting-pangolins-from-being-eaten-to-extinction"> Protecting pangolins from being eaten to extinction</a>, Sonia Awale Community members are also working to revive the indigenous knowledge about over-fishing, and they also get skills training for alternative livelihoods.&nbsp; “The training not only enables us to earn a living but also helps us conserve otters,” says Buddhi Singh Tharu, chair of Himal Samuha community group for otter conservation. Fishing in the river is still allowed, but it must be done in a way that ensures smaller fish and tadpoles, the primary prey for otters, are not caught. “We use fishing nets that allow smaller fish to escape so that numbers in the river are balanced and under control,” explains Tharu. Across <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepal-villages-cope-with-climate-induced-floods">Kailali and Bardia</a>, 15 Community River Stretch Management Groups have been established to conserve Smooth-coated otters. Women have been significantly more active in otter <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/women-conserve-men-still-conservative">conservation efforts</a>, with a 68% participation rate. Sudha Chaudhary, 45, was once a fisher, but now has transitioned to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-superfoods-of-the-andes-and-the-himalaya">chili and tomato farming</a> with support from WWF Nepal and believes that conserving otters is essential for maintaining and sustaining the Karnali ecosystem. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/conversation-with-mr-conservation">Conversation with Mr Conservation</a>, Sonia Awale Meanwhile, despite constant monitoring, sand mining and inadequate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/managing-everest-s-waste-problem">waste management</a> continue in the Karnali, including by local officials, destroying otter habitats. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/conservation-at-the-crossroads">Community conservation groups</a> here have expressed concerns about municipal authorities dumping waste near <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">the Karnali River</a>. However, experts also point to a lack of policies when it comes to otter conservation. While the Aquatic Animal Protection Act of 1961 and the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act of 1973 exist, they are inadequate for the conservation of these vulnerable semi-aquatic animals. Talks are underway for the government to approve a new action plan for otter conservation. For now, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepal-s-conservation-heroes">conservationists</a> emphasise the need for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/wildlife-people-coexistence-in-nepal-national-park">human-wildlife coexistence</a> to foster sustainable ecosystems that protect <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-great-trans-himalayan-bird-migration">Nepal’s biodiversity</a>, to achieve which continued <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepal-s-tigers">community conservation</a>, education and awareness efforts are crucial. Says Tharu: “It is our responsibility to conserve otters to ensure their survival for generations to come.”

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Saving the Karnali otters

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141136/636bad219c7e80680e077f73jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="657"/><figcaption>A pod of dolphins at the confluence of the Mohana and Karnali Rivers recently. The endangered mammals swim upstream from India to breed in Nepal every monsoon.</figcaption></figure>It is the annual monsoon season, and despite the rains this would be the time of year when tourists flocked to the tributaries of the Karnali River in Nepal for dolphin watching.When the rivers are in spate is when the endangered Gangetic Freshwater Dolphin swim upstream from India to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-wellbeing-of-the-wilderness/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-wellbeing-of-the-wilderness/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594719340334000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFo-eHDdDw7OVO_jXw4F1O8UprQZw">mighty Karnali</a>, Nepal’s longest river, to find mates on the still backwaters of the oxbow lakes.But this year, due to the COVID-19 lockdown there is no one here to watch the nearly-blind aquatic mammals as they surface to exhale noisily through the blowholes on top of their heads.Swimming upstream in the strong current is hard enough, but navigating through memory and echo-location could be even more difficult for the only cetacean species found in Nepal. But they follow mind maps that they have inherited from ancestors to travel to the same spot every year to breed and rear calves.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141136/636bad239c7e80680e077f74jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="760" height="475"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“When water levels begin to rise, they can be easily spotted,” says Bhoj Raj Dhungana of the Dolphin Aquatic and Biodiversity Conservation Nepal. “They swim all the way from the Ganges to breed and rear their young in safer, more shallow waters in Nepal.”Dhungana says that although only a mother dolphin and her calf had been sighted till mid-June, in the past month five juveniles and 10 adults have been seen in the waters.Locally referred to as ‘Susu’ after the sound they make while surfacing to breathe, these playful mammals are mostly found along the Karnali’s confluence with rivulets like the Mohana, Pathariya, and Kada in Kailali. As the monsoon tapers off, they swim back downstream into India.After being red-listed as an endangered species by both the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), Gangetic Freshwater Dolphins are now actively protected in Nepal and India. Local conservation organisations in Tikapur and Bhajani municipalities whose communities benefit from dolphin tourism are also involved.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141136/636bad259c7e80680e077f75jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2300" height="1462">River dolphins are known to be accurate indicators of a river’s health. If their numbers decline, as they have been for decades, it means the rivers are polluted, there is overfishing, they are entangled in fishing nets, or new dams are preventing their migration for breeding.Over the years, the total number of Gangetic dolphins have decreased from 5,000 to less than 2,500. They used to be present in all of Nepal’s big rivers like the Kosi, Gandaki and Karnali. But except for the Karnali the other two are both dammed at the Indian border for irrigation and flood control, and the numbers in Nepal have dramatically declined.“Although Gangetic dolphins visit our rivers annually in the monsoon, increased pollution of the rivers and the poaching for food has seriously depleted their numbers,” says dolphin conservationist Vijay Raj Shrestha, who noticed that the dolphins appeared earlier than usual this year possibly because of heavy pre-monsoon rains and the lack of disturbance due to the COVID-19 lockdown.The government is now trying to declare the confluence of the Mohana and Pathriya as a Dolphin Conservation Area, ban the use of fishing nets and prevent plastic garbage  dumping and use of fishing nets in the rivers.Wildlife enthusiasts from all over the world used to flock to Kailali to watch dolphins, contributing to the local economy and spreading awareness among local people about the importance of conserving the rare mammals. However, visitors had to rough it because of the lack of standard hotels and difficult access through dirt tracks.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141136/636bad289c7e80680e077f76jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="760" height="351"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Freshwater dolphins are found in South America and Asia, and regarded as some of the oldest creatures on earth. They have lost their sense of sight because they live in such murky waters, instead they use ultrasonic clicks to navigate and find prey. They travel in pods with their calves.The <a href="https://www.worldwildlife.org/species/ganges-river-dolphin" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.worldwildlife.org/species/ganges-river-dolphin&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1594719340335000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFWRRQSPaFs2kRkP5PiAOdRan75iQ">World Wildlife Fund (WWF)</a> is helping Nepal and India to upgrade conservation efforts and to spread awareness about river pollution. In Nepal, WWF has supported a dolphin census and monitored their population, while also adivising the national and local governments about their conservation.

Freshwater dolphins make comeback in Nepal

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21e89c7e80680e041761jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Dam site of Upper Karnali hydropower (900 MW) in Daab in Dailekh district. Indian company GMR is in final stage to start construction of the project. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>Dal Bahadur Shahi lives in Tuinkuna, in Dailekh district of western Nepal. This is the proposed site for Nepal’s largest hydropower project, the 900 megawatt (MW) <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6689#.XDSJuFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Upper Karnali</a><a href="http://www.ibn.gov.np/project/upper-karnali-hep">.</a> He was in his 50s when he first heard that electricity would be produced from the river he used to cross it several times a day. “My arms could conquer the strongest waves of the river back then, but now I don’t dare to go near it,” he said. “Even if the project is built, I won’t be able to see it. But I hope that our sacrifice of leaving this place for the sake of the nation will not be forgotten.” Read also: Part 1: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/faith-to-reality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Faith to reality</a>Part 3: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-denial-in-the-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Climate denial in the Himalaya</a>Part 4: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dancing-with-the-river/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dancing with the river</a> Part 5: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-karnali-portrait/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A Karnali portrait</a> <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21eb9c7e80680e041762jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Dal Bahadur Shahi in Twinkuna in Dailekh district in the bank of Karnali river where the biggest hydropower is about to kick off. Shahi's family will be displaced once the dam construction starts. Photo: NABIN BARALIn the late 1990s, when the first project survey began, an engineer advised Dal Bahadur to buy more land so that he would receive compensation when the dam was built. But Shahi did not heed the advice, he did not have enough money anyway. There have been numerous surveys after that, but the locals were unaware of the wider water and electricity politics at play. In 2008 an Indian company, <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://www.gmrgroup.in/hand-shake.aspx">GMR</a> got the deal to carry out a detailed study, but a decade later the project is yet to take off. The company signed the project development agreement four years ago but has not yet managed to attract investors. “I don’t think this company has money. It looks like it will sell the license at higher price to another company and it will be delayed,” says another resident, Lokendra Rawat, who left his village in 2008 when the company set up a project office. “I came here to operate a hotel as the construction work would bring a lot of people. But it looks like I will be too old when it will be implemented,” he smiled. <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21ee9c7e80680e041763jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1061">Map: STEFANO WROBLESKIRecently the company said it had provided compensation for the 250 families whose land will be submerged, but only a few people have received it. Dal Bahadur’s two sons were lucky to get compensation a few months ago. The company has now halted the compensation process and no one knows when it will resume. There is talk that the company is only paying compensation to influential and politically powerful people. The Upper Karnali has always been a high profile political project. The Prime Minister of India, Narendra Modi, and Nepal’s then Prime Minister Sushil Koirala signed a deal for the project during Modi’s visit to Nepal in 2014. But investors have not been convinced and it is unclear who will buy the electricity. The project is designed to generate power for export to India, but there is no power purchase agreement. Frustrated by the lack of progress in India, last year the company signed a memorandum of understanding with Bangladesh, which could buy the electricity. Later in August this year Nepal signed a <a href="http://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/news/2018-08-11/nepal-bangladesh-sign-power-cooperation-deal.html">cooperation agreement</a> with Bangladesh aimed at facilitating power trade. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/reservoirs-of-suspicion/hydropower-geopolitics%20,3991" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reservoirs of suspicion</a>, Om Astha Rai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/storing-water-reservoir-Nepal,1042" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Storing water</a>, Bishal Thapa <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21f09c7e80680e041764jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>In Rabalde, power house site of Upper Karnali hydro project is seen through fish net hung in Roshan Buda'a home in Accham. Zinc sheet roofed buildings in the field is the office of GMR company which is building the project. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>Nepal needs permission from India to take electricity across India to Bangladesh so all three countries need to agree on a deal. But experts say it’s not easy given the complex geopolitics of the region. Even so, India recently indicated that it’s open to trilateral trade by amending its earlier cross border trade regulation.Some speculate that this move to ease the trade of electricity was only to help the Indian company GMR to secure financing for Upper Karnali. Nevertheless the amendment is also good news for Chinese and other companies who have been eyeing bigger projects in Nepal. The project on the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18119#.XDSEGFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karnali</a> Bend was first envisaged as a 240 MW project in the 1990s, but has grown in scale over the decades. GMR agreed to build a 900MW plant in 2008, but some technocrats and activists have blamed Nepal’s government for selling the project short. The feasibility study identified the possibility of developing a 4,180 MW project a little further upriver from where the current 900 MW project is planned. Whether this is really possible or not, given the fragile geology of the region, is another matter.“Why was the best and cheapest project to build handed over to a foreign company who will export the energy, while we have a shortage of power? It should be developed for us,” said Ratan Bhandari, a water rights activist from the region. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21f39c7e80680e041765jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A kayaker paddles in the Karnali River in Accham district of Nepal. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>The current project will still be the biggest hydropower project in Nepal worth $1.5 billion. The Upper Karnali has rare <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/what-in-it-for-us,3994" target="_blank" rel="noopener">hydropower</a> potential, where water can be pushed through a 2.5 km tunnel over a drop of 130 metres, creating a huge generating capacity. This project is often called ‘jewel in the crown’ of Nepal’s hydropower. “Our jewel has been sold at the rate of coal,” says Ratna Sansar Shrestha, a hydro-economist. Nepal’s move towards big dams has come at a time when scientists warn that more extreme weather events like floods and landslides will increase in the already fragile mountains in the region. “The changing probabilities and magnitudes of extreme events can place additional risk on power generation infrastructure (dams and hydropower plants) as well as secondary infrastructure (roads and transmission lines). Further, hazards associated with shrinking glaciers, such as glacial lake outburst floods, can jeopardise large infrastructure investment,” says a <a href="http://lib.icimod.org/record/32006/files/StatKraft_Review_final.pdf">report</a> by International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development. A <a href="http://lib.icimod.org/record/29591">study</a> in 2014 also revealed that Nepal’s glaciers have shrunk by 24% and its ice reserves by 29% over the past three decades.  <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21f69c7e80680e041766jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Mount Kailash in Tibet. Four large rivers of Asia originate from four sides of Mount Kailash-- the Brahmaputra (called Yarlung-Tsangpo) from the east, the Karnali from the south, the Sutlej from the west and the Indus from the north. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>However, developers say that current knowledge about impacts of climate change in hydropower is inadequate and does not help better planning. While reports say that the hydropower projects will be impacted, they lack the details as to what degree, and what precisely to take into consideration, says Kumar Pandey of the <a href="http://www.ippan.org.np/page/ippan-committee/">Independent Power Producers Association Nepal</a> (IPPAN). “Investors need accurate information with evidence at micro scale so that they can use it while developing the project so there is need of specific knowledge about the impacts,” adds Pandey.  There are other dangers. Seismologists like Roger Bilham of the University of Coloradio say that a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/preparing-for-future-shocks,3472" target="_blank" rel="noopener">mega earthquake is long overdue</a> in western Nepal. “There are two dangers lurking beneath the Himalaya: one is the unfinished business of 2015, and the other is a looming megaquake in western Nepal,” <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/past-disasters-foretold/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">he told Nepali Times</a>. If built, the project will be the first hydropower plant on the Karnali, the country’s longest river which originates near Mount Kailash in Tibet and becomes Ghaghara in India before it meets the Ganga at the border of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar.  Megh Ale, team leader of the Karnali expedition, believes the main stream of the Karnali should be left free-flowing, “We can bring millions of tourists here while other tributaries could be used for electricity,” he says (see below). Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/rivers-fighting-back,993" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The rivers are fighting back</a>, Megh Alehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns7jytSwpngBesides tourism, hydropower development would also <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/project-dragonfly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">endanger aquatic species</a>. “Aquatic life has been threatened by hydropower across the country and if it continues many species will go extinct,” says Deep Narayan Shah, a researcher from Nepal’s Tribhuvan University’s Central Department of Environmental Science. Nepal’s hydropower policy has a mandatory provision for developers to maintain 10% flow of water downstream around the year, but this has not been implemented and monitored. Chief minister of Karnali Province Mahendra Bahadur Shahi says there has to be greater understanding about river ecosystems and suffering of people, who are critically dependent on the river and its resources, like fish. “We may revisit the agreement done with GMR and I have told them that it won’t go ahead as agreed,” he says as he joined the expedition on the banks of Karnali recently. However a few weeks later Shahi told journalists that he was willing to waive taxes for the developers, adding that without large hydroelectric projects, Karnali Province would remain poor.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1a6JHJufKgIt is common practice for companies to hold licences for years and then sell them to another company. Late last year, GMR (the same company that holds the licence for Upper Karnali) pulled out of the 600MW Upper Marsyangdi project after holding the licence for years.  A consortium of Nepali and Chinese investors bought shares from GMR just as work was due to start. The parliamentary committee of Nepal has <a href="http://setopati.net/market/134280">formed a probe committee</a> to investigate further.China is becoming a new but important player in Nepal’s energy politics, dominated by India for decades. There are two big projects in pipeline, the $2.5 billion <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/08/06/building-budhigandaki/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Budi Gandaki</a> and the $1.8 billion West Seti – both reservoir projects, and both controversial. Earlier last year, the Nepal government announced that the 750 MW <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19084#.XDSL01UzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">West Seti project</a>, on one of the tributaries of the Karnali in western Nepal, would be built by Nepali firms while the license of the project had already been given to China's Three Gorges Company (CTGC). Negotiations then failed, resulting in the Chinese withdrawing from the project.The 1,200MW Budhi Gandaki in central Nepal has also had a series of setbacks as the Nepal government awarded the project to China’s Ghezhuoba firm, only to scrap it a year later, and then re-awarding the contract to the same company.This has increased doubts among locals that Karnali will ever be built. “The most productive time of my life has gone waiting for this project to kick off,” says Bal Bahadur Shahi at Ramaghat, 3km downstream from the project site. Frustration is growing and locals are in a mood to fight back. Says Shahi: “We will wait at least for one more year. If the project is still not implemented, we will ask the government to take it over.” The story is jointly published by Nepali Times and <a href="https://www.thethirdpole.net/en/">The Third Pole</a>. Subsequent installments of this five-part series will appear from 8-11 January.

Dams and dreams a journey down the Karnali

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQ9Za5QDkvY&amp;feature=youtu.beIntroduction:<a href="https://www.britannica.com/place/Kailas-Range">Mount Kailash</a> in southwestern Tibet is the source of some of the largest rivers in Asia: the <a href="https://www.britannica.com/place/Brahmaputra-River#ref495769">Brahmaputra</a>, the <a href="https://www.britannica.com/place/Sutlej-River">Sutlej</a>, the Indus and the Karnali. Revered as one of the most holy places by Hindus, Buddhists, Bons and Jains, Kailash is a place many millions desire to visit before they die but only thousands make it every year due to its inaccessibility. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-wellbeing-of-the-wilderness/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karnali</a> is the longest river of Nepal, flowing from the north to south through deep gorges to the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, where it meets the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganges">Ganga</a>. It is called the Ghaghara in India—the largest tributary of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganges">Ganga </a>by volume.Read also: Part 2: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dams-and-dreams-a-journey-down-the-karnali/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dams and dreams a journey down the Karnali</a> In Tibet, the Karnali is called <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/1787863?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents">Mapcha Khambab</a>, which means ‘the river that originates from the peacock’s mouth’. Little is known about the exact source of the Karnali. <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.thethirdpole.net/en/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">thethirdpole.net</a>’s Nepal Editor Ramesh Bhushal and photographer Nabin Baral travelled with a team of scientists to locate the river’s source and follow it from Tibet to its confluence with the Ganga in India. As part of the first scientific expedition of its kind, they travelled 1,100 kilometres over six weeks by jeep, raft and on foot through some of the most remote areas of the Himalayas. Part of the massive infrastructure development underway in the Himalaya, preparations are on to dam the Upper Karnali in Nepal for a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13703#.XDR9IVUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">hydropower project</a> – the first dam on Nepal’s last free flowing river. The river is already under high stress from floods and erosion in India’s Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. All this is exacerbated by climate change. The challenges ahead are clear, but unpredictable in scale.In this five part series we explore the environmental and economic changes transforming the river system, and the challenges facing people living along its banks.  <iframe src="https://uploads.knightlab.com/storymapjs/a061279c459ca9ba4e1ab77c0cc67bf1/faith-to-reality-a-journey-down-the-karnali-river-from-tibet-to-india/draft.html" frameborder="0" width="100%" height="500"></iframe> StoryMap: RAMESH BHUSHALPart ILiving in fear of floodsTibet’s development boom has left downstream Nepal more vulnerable to floods and dam collapsePreparing soup for her grandson under a dim solar powered bulb, 50-year-old Pema Angmo explained how frightening life is on the bank of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghaghara">Karnali</a> river in western Nepal’s <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hilsa,_Nepal">Hilsa</a> village, on the border of Tibet. Large embankments protect the huge immigration office and villages in Tibet, but Nepalis on the other bank are left without any protection from floods in place. “I tell my relatives in Tibet that the embankments protect you, but the gods protect us Nepalis,” she smiled. About two decades ago, she started the first lodge on the flood plains of the Karnali River, which originates about 80km northwest in Tibet. Now there are dozens of guest houses. This small town is the last stop in Nepal for pilgrims visiting <a href="https://www.britannica.com/place/Kailas-Range">Mount Kailash</a>. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21d29c7e80680e04175bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Hilsa: Hilsa is a small seasonal town in Nepal- Tibet border where the Mapchakhambab river becomes Karnali. Most of the people have hotel business as the pilgirms and tourists especially from India use this route to go to Mount Kailash. During the winter the hoteliers shut down and move down to lower elevation as it snows thick and then return back in March/ April once the tourist season starts and stay till September/ October. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>The scale of potential flood threats along the Karnali River is clear from the large embankments constructed in the traditional trading hub of Burang (Taklakot) in China, 30km northwest of Hilsa. The Mapcha Khambab becomes the Karnali once it enters Nepal.Read also: Part 3: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-denial-in-the-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Climate denial in the Himalaya</a>Part 4: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dancing-with-the-river/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dancing with the river</a>Part 5: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-karnali-portrait/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A Karnali portrait </a>Born in Tibet, Pema fell in love with a Nepali from Hepka village in Humla and they married 30 years ago. In that time, Tibet has seen unprecedented development, but Nepal has remained the same. Blacktopped roads have made road travel much easier in Tibet, and many pilgrims, mostly from India, now flock to Hilsa in summer on small planes and helicopters from Nepalganj. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEt0H0r4UOU&amp;feature=youtu.beHindus believe Lord Shiva meditated on Mt Kailash, and some <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalganj-gets-moving/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">15,000 Indian pilgrims took this route this year</a>. The sound of helicopters wake us up every morning as they land and take off every few minutes near Pema’s hotel. While business is getting better, people are worried about how to protect their hard earned property from the floods and disasters that may come in future. “It took two decades to build these two buildings, but it won’t take a minute to destroy them if there is a big flood or a dam bursts upstream,” Pema added. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21d69c7e80680e04175cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Mount Kailash: Mount Kailash region in southwestern Tibet is the source of some of the largest rivers in Asia. Brahmaputra, Sutlej, Indus and Karnali/Ghaghara and orginate from east, west, north and south of the Kailash range.Kailash is revered as the holy place by Hindus, Buddhist, Bons and Jains. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21da9c7e80680e04175djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Mansarovar lake (God’s lake) south of Mount Kailash in Tibet, China. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>The Chinese have built a hydropower dam a few kilometres upstream on the Karnali. This has improved the lives of Tibetans by bringing electricity, but increased fear among the Nepalis living next to the border. There is hardly any communication between local people and the Chinese authorities, and Nepali officials do not listen to them. “We face serious problems, but the leaders in Kathmandu do not losten to us,” said Amar Lama, another lodge owner in HIlsa.Over the past years, Hilsa has welcomed the prime minister and other leaders and pleaded for electricity. Two years ago Pushpa Kamal Dahal inaugurated a bridge across the Karnali to Tibet, and promised to <a href="http://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/news/2016-12-20/pm-opens-hilsa-bridge.html">send a team of experts</a> for a hydropower project in Nepal on a tributary of the Karnali River. There is no sign work has started. “Prime ministers and ministers fly here, make promises and go to Kailash with their family. Once they fly back, they forget everything. I am really angry, you know, please tell them if you meet them,” Pema Angmo said. Out of 77 districts of Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/life-and-livelihood-in-remote-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Humla is the last one without a road</a>. After a couple of weeks walking along the river to the south, we met Mahendra Bahadur Shahi, the Chief Minister of Karnali province and asked him if there were any plans to address the problems people face. He talked about a railway to China, but not about roads, embankments or electricity.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21dd9c7e80680e04175ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1061">Map: STEFANO WROBLESKI“We are talking with the Chinese about a railway link,” Shahi said. “We have had a few rounds of bilateral talks in past few months.” Hilsa also faces landslide risk. “We are trapped but we can’t leave this place,” adds Pema, who built her lodge from a couple of tents three decades ago. Now she has three buildings with about 50 rooms. “This is the only property we have and it’s our future but it’s at risk,” she says.  <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21e09c7e80680e04175fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Constructions in Burang on the bank of Karanali River. The city is the capital of Burang county and rapdigly growing which is protected by huge embankments. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>In 2012 a landslide killed four people in a single family, including a mother and children, in the town. “It looks beautiful now, but the mountains are hard to live in,” she says.Apart from floods and landslides, studies warn that a mega earthquake is long overdue in Nepal’s western region.  <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21e39c7e80680e041760jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Taklakot/Purang/ Burang: Popularly known in Nepal as Taklakot, it is the largest city along the Mapchakhambab river before entering Nepal. The trade hub for Nepalis from Humla and Darchula in Nepal and Indians from Dharchula. It is the capital of Burang County. Photo: NABIN BARAL</figcaption></figure>People in Hilsa used to drink water from the Karnali in the past but with the development boom in Burang, this is no longer safe. “Now it is polluted by sewage upstream,” Pema said. Now, Hilsa brings water from a nearby spring into their homes through pipes.Still shrouded in darkness, with no road connection or mobile network, Hilsa faces the challenge of too little development, and the contrast on the the other side of the river is stark.The story is jointly published by Nepali Times and <a href="https://www.thethirdpole.net/en/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Third Pole</a>. Subsequent instalments of this five-part series will appear from 8-11 January.

Faith to reality

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

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

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

The Himalaya is not fragile

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

My father’s son

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

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