Until some years ago, this village in Halesi of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-local-governments-lead-from-the-front">Khotang</a> used to be a bustling hamlet of 16 households nestled amidst terraced fields. Today, it is a ghost village. The thatched-roof houses are dilapidated, their walls have caved in and there are bushes and grass growing out of the ruins. There used to be 18 families in Purano Gaun, only a handful of people remain. Dharma Raj Karki is the only one whose entire family is still in the village. Navaraj Regmi’s family has already moved to Biratnagar, but he has had to stay back in the village to teach at the local school. Mahesh Regmi’s family has settled in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Only Kamal Raj Regmi of the Nepali Congress is home in the next village of Kathare-Siruvani, forced to stay behind because he was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lower-than-usual-turnout-in-nepal-polls">elected</a> ward chair last year.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/eastern-nepal-s-depopulating-mountains">Eastern Nepal’s depopulating mountains</a>, Gopal Dahal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230411100412_42fcba6d6961b501f657a23807a62dea44f55d10168603512ba27f927fe7189e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230411100412_42fcba6d6961b501f657a23807a62dea44f55d10168603512ba27f927fe7189e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Khotang NT 2"> </figure>  As elsewhere in the mid-mountains of Nepal, the outmigration is that subsistence farmers are impacted by climate change, springs are going dry, life is easier in the Tarai. In addition, last year’s wildfires in Khotang affected many of the families.&nbsp; Not everyone who has migrated has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrating-for-domestic-work">relocated</a> to the plains, some have just moved down the mountain to the fertile banks of a river in Regmitar along the Gaighat-Diktel road hoping that business will pick up. “In the past, people used to have to travel for days to buy salt and rice, and sell ghee,” says Hari Budhathoki of Regmitar, but most of the families have moved on down to the next big town of Gaighat in Udaypur district, or to Biratnagar. Many people from eastern Nepal have followed the footsteps of their forebears to move even further afield to Nepali-speaking regions in Northeast India or Sikkim. This is the traditional recruitment region for young Nepalis wishing to join the Brisih, Indian or Nepali militaries.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/letter-from-sikles">Letter from Sikles</a>, Kunda Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230411100412_194e579f9c1218cab0261bfe87ca1d6ce496e16706915f39efdf10319f9ce32b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230411100412_194e579f9c1218cab0261bfe87ca1d6ce496e16706915f39efdf10319f9ce32b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Khotang NT 3"> </figure>  Khotang is one of the 32 of Nepal’s 77 districts which have witnessed a sharp decline in population. Most of those districts are in eastern Nepal, with adjoining Bhojpur and Tehrathum witnesses the sharpest declines.&nbsp; But even among Nepal’s eastern districts, Khotang has been hit especially hard – its population fell from 206,321 in 2011 to 175,340 in 2021. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/counting-on-nepal">annual population growth rate</a> is -1.56%, the second-lowest out of all of Nepal’s districts. The village of Bahungaun is completely deserted–its 40 houses abandoned. In Gairikhola, only Judda Bahadur Karki's family remains, while two more families remain in Karkigaun. It is the same story in Tallobadka, Kahule, Okkharbote, Tallosanne, Thumki, Patihattel, Belbote and Simpani – village after villages with just a few elderly men or women. &nbsp; This does not surprise ward chair Anish Karki of Halesi Tuwachung-11, since there have been no incentives for locals to stay. There is no help in finding market for the area’s produce, harvests are destroyed by wild animals, and water supply is erratic. Schools and health posts are not properly run, and there are no jobs.&nbsp; Says Budathoki: “Having a vegetable patch or livestock is no longer a measure of wellbeing. Today, a family’s worth is determined by whether it owns own land in the Tarai.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-demographic-dividend">Nepal's demographic dividend</a>, Shristi Karki Translated by Shristi Karki from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/135225">Nepali original</a> in <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/135225">himalkhabar.com</a>

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The last men standing

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205999c7e80680e0b28c6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"/><figcaption>When the only ambulance in Diprung Chuichumma could not attend to all the emergencies, Chair Bhupendra Rai himself drove the infected to health centres.</figcaption></figure>KhotangLast year, as Nepal plunged headlong into <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-real-cost-of-nepals-second-wave/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the second wave</a> of Covid-19, cities around the country including Kathmandu Valley announced lockdowns, and people of Diprung Chuichumma Rural Municipality of Khotang streamed back home.The people were home, but they also brought the virus with them. The only ambulance in the municipality could not attend to all the emergencies, so Chair Bhupendra Rai donned a PPE and started driving the infected to the health centre in his own car. Sometimes, he would go door-to-door carrying patients on his back to the car.The municipality set up a 25-bed isolation centre, ramped up awareness campaigns, and carried out antigen tests. Vice-chair Sapana Rai was equally involved. Those who couldn’t be treated inside the municipality were taken to hospitals in Kathmandu and  Biratnagar.“We entered politics for the people. So, when they were suffering, we couldn’t just sit back and relax, we had to be hands-on in serving them and taking the lead from the front,” Bhupendra Rai told us on the phone from Khotang as he waits for word on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dance-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the date for local elections slated for April</a>.This <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-local-governments-lead-from-the-front/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local government team was proof</a> that elected grassroots politicians understand the need of their area, are more accountable, and are willing to serve their constituents.The Omicron surge is spreading, but this time there are not as many cases of Covid-19 in the village. But the Rais are not taking any chances. The municipality has increased the number of antigen tests and encouraged the infected to isolate at home.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/6372059c9c7e80680e0b28c7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1152"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kathmandu may have a shortage of cetamol painkillers, but there is plenty stockpiled here to meet villagers’ needs. And the municipality has deployed health volunteers to accelerate the vaccination drive.“Whoever could walk to the centre are all vaccinated, now we need to reach those who cannot come on their own,” says Rai.As schools nationwide remained closed during the lockdown, the municipality deployed more than 200 teachers with masks on who went house-to-house tutoring students. It also bought produce from local farmers who could not take it to market due to the lockdown and distributed to needy families. This ensured food security as well as income for the local farmers.When Bhupendra Rai was elected in 2017, there were not enough roads in his rural municipality. Every monsoon, the constituency would be locked in as the Sunkosi and Sapsi river flooded. Today, a motorable bridge connects this remote village to the rest of the country. Every household has electricity and access to drinking water.“All this would not have been possible without the local elections and local representatives in place, it forced us to perform,” says Rai.Tehrathum<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/6372059f9c7e80680e0b28c8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1149"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>To the east in Laligurans Municpality, Tehrathum Mayor Arjun Mabuhang also worked on connectivity as soon as he got elected five years ago. Having seen <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/elected-contractors/">rampant corruption in road contracts</a>, Mabuhang got the municipality to buy its own excavators to build roads with the help of locals, cancelling out middlemen.“Now all the wards have roads and there is ownership amongst the people because they themselves were involved in building them,” says Mabuhang.He also introduced a program to upgrade agriculture by supporting dairy farmers and offering grants for vegetable and fruit farming, poultry, and pig farms. The roads helped get the produce to market.Says the mayor: “Because I am from here and I myself have seen the ground reality and know what the people here need, I work in the areas that benefit the people most. We did what we could with the budget we were given, but we need to work more on improving schools.”Sindhupalchok<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205a39c7e80680e0b28c9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Sindhupalchok’s Jugal Rural Municipality, Deputy Chair Srijana Tamang has been single-mindedly working on improving education. As a child, she remembers walking for hours from home to school and back. In winter night fell quickly on her way home, and during the monsoon she would be covered from head to toe in leeches.When she was elected five years ago, one of the first things Tamang and Chair Hom Narayan Shrestha worked on was to appoint new teachers and upgrade school buildings, some of them destroyed in the earthquake.Having worked as a social worker in the past, Tamang recognised the priority areas for her rural municipality, and her background and familiarity with the people helped her not only gain an edge during the elections but prepared her to deal with the problems of her community.“When I was elected, I really wanted to prioritise roads and education, but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rural-nepal-fights-back-covid-19/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the pandemic meant we had to address more urgent issues</a>,” adds Tamang, who offered RT PCR testing and monitored the spread of the disease, turning a local school into an isolation centre. With Omicron, Tamang believes the people are more aware, and better prepared.“The pandemic was the first big challenge for me as a local representative,” says Tamang. “But knowing that we are working for our people and our families, there is always a greater sense of responsibility.”In 2020, while Tamang was away on official business, a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/deadly-monsoon-in-nepal-turns-deadlier/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">massive landslide at Lidi</a> killed 39. She travelled overnight to help with the rescue and relief effort and got support to rehabilitate those made homeless. She got geologists to prepare a disaster risk map of her municipality to prevent future disasters, and prepare for them.Jhapa<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205a69c7e80680e0b28cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Jhapa’s, Kamal Rural Municipality has the distinction of being among <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125595?fbclid=IwAR1g00nElAMlIzStd-FiN7M-f6PZ1H3KQXE6V0f8Y4ztDNxclOSJ9KWQPZs" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">four of the 753 municipalities around the country ranked cleanest</a> in budget disbursement by the Office of Auditor General. It is a well-deserved recognition for Chair Menuka Kafle for whom tackling leakage and corruption was a priority.For any project with a budget over Rs5 million, the municipality went through a strict tender process. It also stopped giving out advances for projects and kept track of expenditure.“For the others to follow the rules, we had to lead by example, so we made sure that we were meticulous about accounting,” says Kafle.Over the last five years, the rural municipality has constructed more than 70km of roads, upgraded bridges, and ensured that all wards have electricity. Kafle distributed carts to women fruit and vegetable vendors and launched income generation activities for women.“When women are economically independent, they don’t have to depend on others and can make their own decisions,” says Kafle.The municipality offered cash incentives to encourage pregnant women to visit health centres for regular check-ups and registration of new-borns. When Kafle first got elected, many people in the community <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal/">did not believe that a woman could run the office</a>.During important meetings people would ignore her and seek out the male Deputy Chair. These days Kafle is in high demand.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205a99c7e80680e0b28cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="486">Says Kafle: “We women who are in power have to work hard to build trust in the community and do everything within our power so that women who come after us don’t face so much difficulty.”

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All politics is local

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d3c9c7e80680e0af3a0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1417" height="945"/><figcaption>All photos: SANCHAI INC</figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=bead8272edd0f2143&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/chiampagne/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwj_4OOU8tb0AhVuTGwGHZxDBlYQFnoECAQQAg&amp;usg=AOvVaw1bIcX2Mvv2AOTwYJ1ufhaX" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">highest quality tea</a> is synonymous with Darjeeling. Outstanding beer is produced in Pilsen. Camembert cheese gets its name from a town in France. In future, could Khotang become the name for the world’s purest peanut butter?An up-and-coming business venture led by a Japanese social entrepreneur is set to put this outlying Himalayan district in eastern Nepal on the world map for its premium natural peanut butter.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d3f9c7e80680e0af3a1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="1500">Kotobuki Naka’s plan to turn Durchim of Halesi Municipality in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-local-governments-lead-from-the-front/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Khotang district</a> into the world’s peanut butter capital is picking up again after being stalled by the Covid crisis. She is now back to get the farmers she trained and the factory she established up and running.Naka (pictured, left) used to work with a Japanese IoT (Internet of Things) company that used to support  charity work among <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nearly-half-of-nepali-children-still-malnourished/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">children</a> in Khotang. On her first visit, she undertook the tumultuous 15-hour drive from Kathmandu to Khotang along rough mountains roads to meet farmers.She found that peanut was the main cash crop in southern Khotang, but crop failure due to drier than usual weather was forcing men to migrate to India and the Gulf for work.“I was trying to find a more sustainable way to improve the lives of children, and concluded that the best way to go about that was to make their parents more economically capable, rather than just giving handouts,” says Naka.https://youtu.be/H-QVCYBQy90Three years ago, she met a farmer who told her he did not want to migrate but continue farming if there was a way to make a living from it. This had a profound effect on Naka, who went on to establish <a href="https://www.sanchai-inc.com/en" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sanchai Inc</a> impart training in organic farming to make peanut butter, so they did not have to migrate.During their extensive research, Naka with her colleague Sabita Maharjan of Bipana Inc learned that Khotang locals grew two types of peanuts: the smaller, tastier local variety for their own consumption, and a larger hybrid peanut to be sold to middlemen at low rates. What was left, they fed to livestock.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d429c7e80680e0af3a2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“Till that point, I knew nothing about making peanut butter, but I had to convince my boss in Japan,” Naka recalls, “I told him it was for people in Nepal, not to earn a profit.”She then visited peanut experts in Japan and got a famous Japanese recipe before her next visit to Khotang with basic equipment to test-make a peanut butter sample. Everyone back in Japan agreed that the smaller local peanut variety gave the best <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15952#.YbIN9C2B2fQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">peanut butter</a> they had ever tasted.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d459c7e80680e0af3a3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="655" height="431"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d469c7e80680e0af3a4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1417" height="949"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We were amazed how good it was. I was convinced we could train local people to make it and set up a company,” adds Naka, who had to first get used to a place without electricity. Luckily, the village got power just before the factory opened.“As a Japanese, it took me time to get used to the lack of punctuality here,” laughs Naka.The farmers who showed up were all <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women</a> because most of the men had migrated. Unintentionally, the peanut enterprise also became a tool for women empowerment.Naka and her team trained 60 households to produce organically-grown peanuts which the company bought for a higher price than middlemen, benefiting 300 farmers.“Our whole idea was to raise living standards sustainably, by providing skills and not just handing out money,” explains Naka.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d499c7e80680e0af3a5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1417" height="945"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1d4c9c7e80680e0af3a6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="266" height="797">Next, they trained their staff of 10 women to make peanut butter in a few crucial steps:<ul><li>Select undamaged peanuts manually</li> <li>Remove outer shell of selected peanuts</li> <li>Carefully roast the peanuts</li> <li>Clean and break each peanut into two halves</li> <li>Peanuts go through another round of selection</li> <li>Peanuts go for mixing</li></ul>Quality control is paramount for the export market, and this is meticulously maintained with superior raw material and processing that retains the unique taste and texture of the butter from Khotang peanuts as well as a protein level of 1.3% -- higher than any other similar product.Naka, 43, grew up in Fukuoka, learning the basics of business from her father who owned a chain of beauty salons. She moved to Tokyo as a researcher for the IoT company. After three years, Naka opened Sanchai Inc in December 2017, and export of Khotang peanut butter started a year later.Distribution within Nepal at Le Sherpa Farmers’ Market, Local Project Nepal, Himgiri Organic Farm have resumed after the pandemic. Japan now accounts for 90% of sales, and there is also budding interest from companies for the Singapore, Europe and the United States markets.“When I tell people the story behind the product, they get excited and are even more interested in buying it. I try to inspire in them the feeling of giving and helping people in rural Nepal,” says Naka.“Ours was one small effort, but it gave women in Khotang a platform to perform, their families' living standard rose, and they have now become leaders.”

Sonia Awale

Made in Nepal peanut butter in Japan

<figure><img width="1920" height="1080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b922f9c7e80680e06f133jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photos: DIPRUNG CHUICHUMMA RURAL MUNICIPALITY</figcaption></figure>Sabitra Devkota of Diprung Chuichumma rural municipality in Khotang had been isolating at home for four days after testing positive for Covid-19 in late May when she fell unconscious. There was no one to take her to hospital. Devkota’s relatives informed Diprung Chuichumma rural municipality Chair Bhupendra Rai about her situation. Rai immediately drove to Devkota’s house and took her to hospital himself.Devkota is one of many Covid-positive residents of this village in Khotang district of eastern Nepal whom Chairperson Rai has helped this month. With the vice-chair Sapana Rai, the two leaders have been actively on the frontlines as the deadly second Covid wave that has battered the country’s urban hubs <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-nepal-virus-climbs-from-plains-to-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sweeps across rural Nepal</a>.Out of 300 Covid-19 PCR tests done in the village, 93 came back positive last month. And as cases began to rise, the only ambulance operating within the municipality was unable to attend to the increased number of calls. So Bhupendra Rai donned a PPE and turned his official vehicle into an ambulance. He now drives Covid-infected patients to hospital himself, spending more time on the road than he does at his desk.Inaccessibility to roads in some areas of the municipality means that Rai’s vehicle sometimes cannot reach near enough for people to walk to. When that happens, Rai goes into their homes and carries them out to his vehicle himself.  <img width="1920" height="1080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b92329c7e80680e06f134jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="800" height="450" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b92359c7e80680e06f135jpeg.jpg" alt="">He has to be hands-on, he explains, in order to reduce the risk of the infected person’s family members being exposed to the virus.“I wear a PPE and masks at all times, so the chances of me contracting the virus are relatively less than when relatives come in contact with infected people while helping them,” says Rai.Vice-chair Sapana Rai has been equally involved in the efforts, working with Bhupendra Rai to provide aid to Covid-positive residents, take people to get antigen tests at the temporary Covid hospital, and arrange for isolation facilities depending on the severity of individual Covid cases.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/a-little-help-goes-a-long-way-in-home-isolation/">A little help goes a long way in home isolation</a>, Nepali Times <figure><img width="1920" height="1080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b92379c7e80680e06f136jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The municipality has set up a 25-bed isolation centre with supplemental oxygen. “Asymptomatic individuals are told to isolate at home,” explains Bhupendra Rai, “while those who show serious symptoms are kept in this isolation facility.” The two village leaders have also been coordinating to send critically ill Covid-19 patients for treatment to Kathmandu, Dhulikhel or Charikot.Testing has also been ramped up across each tole to manage the spread of the virus before the situation gets out of hand. In fact, as health workers go <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rural-nepal-fights-back-covid-19/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">door-to-door</a> conducting antigen tests, Rai is usually right alongside them. “I have been accompanying health workers to keep the morale up,” he says.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/at-the-covid-19-frontlines-in-rural-nepal/">At the Covid-19 frontlines in rural Nepal</a>, Priti Thapa<iframe src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?height=420&amp;href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fito.diprungmun%2Fvideos%2F868380697356377%2F&amp;show_text=false&amp;width=560&amp;t=0" width="560" height="420" style="border:none;overflow:hidden" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true" allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; picture-in-picture; web-share"></iframe>So far, 14 patients in the municipality have recovered from the disease during the second wave. Khotang is among the few districts in Nepal not under prohibitory orders. As such, the local government has advised Diprung Chuichumma residents to stay home unless strictly necessary to go outside. Additionally, they have tightened security measures, putting out an order that requires anyone entering the municipality from outside to have a negative test report.The local government has also been actively pushing out campaigns on Covid prevention. “We have been providing support to Covid-positive individuals while simultaneously running awareness programmes across the municipality,” says vice-chair Sapana Rai.Meanwhile, constant exposure to the virus has meant that Bhupendra Rai has not come in close contact with his own family in a month. Rai is diligent about showering and disinfecting when he gets home from work every day. He stays and takes his meals in a separate room, and doesn’t venture into the kitchen or to where his family gathers. Rai believes in leading from the front. “Now is not the time for us to give out orders to others while we stay in a bubble of safety,” he says. “We were elected to serve the people. If we unite now to fight this virus, there will be brighter days ahead.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-doctors-are-like-soldiers-fighting-a-war/">Nepal’s doctors are like soldiers fighting a war</a>, Donatella Lorch

Nepal’s local governments lead from the front

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

A new normal

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

The second season of the Nepal Premier League (NPL) is a prettier and more mature product. The Tribhuvan University International Cricket Stadium has new flood lights, colourful seats, and more of them from which fans watch not just sixers soaring into the evening sky but also spectacular sunsets over the mountains.&nbsp; Tuesday’s match was a double header with matches 20 and 21 of the season. The early game was Chitwan Rhinos vs Janakpur Bolts, and in the evening Karnali Yaks played Pokhara Avengers. These were teams towards the bottom of the table, with plenty to play for.&nbsp; Things looked fluorescent with the high-vis vests of security, bright pink jerseys of the Bolts, vivid orange Rhinos and the neon green inDrive logo. Security is tight, and between buying tickets and getting to seats viewers are patted down four times, their ticket stubbed twice. The seats are divided into zones, set out by fan base, and they are full and loud throughout.&nbsp; The biggest name in NPL 1.0 last year was probably Shikhar Dhawan, but the second season has brought in internationals who have played at the highest levels: Jason Roy, Faf du Plessis, Imran Tahir, Wayne Parnell, Sohail Tanvir, Martin Guptill. &nbsp; Although they are now in the 35-40 age range and well past their athletic prime, they have been valuable as sources of experience and technique for young Nepali teammates who are preparing for the T20 World Cup in February. They are seeing firsthand the work that goes into being an international level professional.&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_0" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  NPL 2.0 is also much more commercial. Boundary ropes and zones have logos on them, KFC and Asian Paints have their anamorphic logos designed for angle on the field, there is an electric vehicle on display, and the digital scoreboard shows ads in between balls and action on the field.&nbsp; Sponsors and advertisers have allowed the organisers to pull out all the stops to put up the month-long tournament. Maybe the next season will be broadcast with virtual advertising with digital overlay.&nbsp; Cricket is a much faster and more dynamic game in person with the whole field in view, while still being relaxing to watch due to its stop start nature, the winter sun and enchanting sunset views.&nbsp; In the morning game Janakpur bowled first. The defending champions had a defence failure with five losses out of five. They could not break the opening partnership of the Rhinos, who were cruising at about nine runs an over.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> </figure>  Thirteen overs into the Rhinos’ inning, they are 109 for zero. English batsman David Malan, 38, is on 59 off 42, and his opening partner Arjun Saud, 22 from Dhangadi, is on 50 off 37. The message from the dug out is clear: there are wickets in hand, so hit some sixes.&nbsp; Namibian leg spinner Nicol Loftie-Eaton was bowling for the Bolts, and the batsman went after him. They got off twice, with Rupesh Singh losing an easy catch in the sun, and then putting down a much harder chance running to his left.&nbsp; American Sanjay Krishnamurthi took a fantastic catch diving forward in the very next ball. The rest of Chitwan’s batting order got out regularly while still scoring at a decent clip. The Rhinos ended up posting 174, a big score of course, but not the 200+ that their strong start suggested.&nbsp; In the last over, young left-handed national team batsman Kushal Malla lofted a six on the off-side. The ball scored a direct hit on a cheerleader’s face, she crumpled to the ground, and was rushed on a stretcher to an ambulance. Meanwhile, Mr Gaida, the one-horned Chitwan mascot, stole the show as he roamed the boundary, swaying to the wide mix of DJ songs. The crowd cheered.&nbsp;  <figure> <video controls src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251206071236_63033e071dcdf7e9c6382f889e72f438318faed63d9a3c52d4ba6c10a6e357f6.mp4" alt="" width="100%" height="100%"></video> <figcaption>Mr Gaida, the one-horned Chitwan mascot, stole the show as he roamed the boundary, swaying to the wide mix of DJ songs. Vidoe: VISHAD RAJ ONTA</figcaption> </figure>  As the Bolts started batting, popular Irish commentator Andrew Leonard came down from the press box to check on cheerleaders. Three cheerleaders were reduced to one, but a male breakdancer had joined her.&nbsp; Janakpur were never in any real trouble as they chased. Young Pakistani all-rounder Maaz Sadaqat’s 63 off 30, and Anil Sah’s 61 of 36 propelled the Bolts to the target with two and a half overs to spare.&nbsp; At dusk, the floodlights come on, adding to the atmosphere. There is smoggy Kathmandu below and Langtang glowing pink on the horizon as the second match began.&nbsp; Karnali Yaks captain Sompal Kami won the toss and chose to bowl, but Adam Rossington’s 108 off 58 and Jason Roy’s 46 of 34 meant that Pokhara set up a target of 202. &nbsp; The Yaks started well, and were still very much in the game at over 10 with 95/3. But they lost wickets and slowed down. The pressure of the rising run rate got to the batting order, and soon they were all out for 167.&nbsp; In between innings and games, there is plenty for viewers to do in the carnival-like atmosphere outside. Asian Paints offers free face-painting. Ncell has a stall where viewers can pick up free new sims and play against a bowling machine to win t-shirts. KFC is the only food option around. Red Bulls are Rs150 per can. “Why do you think they’re dancing so hard out there?” asks the vendor of the caffeine-rich energy drink. “Red Bull.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025120412128_06edd8e6713c1e76c39364d3efb8ea54d4f7c3d8d2bf0d90933c993fdcfeba74.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025120412128_06edd8e6713c1e76c39364d3efb8ea54d4f7c3d8d2bf0d90933c993fdcfeba74" data-rendition-name="original" width="934" height="656" loading="lazy" alt="NPL fixtures NT"> </figure>  <h2>Starting a new innings</h2> Tek Raj Kharel had just dropped off his inDrive customer near Zone 3 and had been following the tournament, watching games in between rides. He thinks the NPL is more than a game, it is a carnival. “This festival is more for women than men,” says Kharel. How so? “They go to be seen on the digital screen and take selfies, and the men go to see the women.”&nbsp; This week both male and female fans on the stands were certainly dancing hard, and they did not seem to care much about which team was winning. They cheered both when batsmen hit boundaries, and when a wicket fell. They were there to have fun, cricket was just an excuse. A pair of friends were not having as much fun, and were obviously not too much into cricket. The youngsters exited early, with one telling the other to never invite him to something as boring again. Many other couples seemed to be on dates.&nbsp; There were also many dads with their young kids, both generations enjoying themselves. There are not too many other events in Nepal that the family can go to like this.&nbsp; “Any match you watch here is pretty entertaining,” says an older fan. “I didn’t really know much about cricket before but now it has become a habit.”&nbsp; Thanks to new Youth and Sports minister, 26-year old Bablu Gupta, at the end of day’s games, fans get a free ride on shuttle buses to Kalanki, Swayambhu, Bhaktapur and elsewhere in the Valley.&nbsp; There is a lot that is very good with the NPL, and not much that is bad. A few things need quick fixes.&nbsp; While the stadium itself is all right, outside where the stalls are, the ground is dusty and resembles a construction site with litter everywhere. There are no actual bathrooms. Siddhartha Bank has set up a few small makeshift steel sheds, where fans stand shoulder to shoulder to relieve themselves. &nbsp; The pricing system has to be rethought. Tickets started at Rs300 last year, and the stadium was packed. Tickets cost Rs500 now, and on weekdays many seats are empty. A new system where tickets get discounted depending on booking time would improve the atmosphere with bigger crowds. &nbsp; Even so, the NPL is a breath of fresh air in post-GenZ protest Nepal with the hope that the country is starting a new innings.&nbsp; Tickets on Khalti.

khotang