Halucha is a carpenter living a happy life with his big family in Kathmandu’s Maru Hiti in the 1960s handcrafting chairs, tables and temple woodwork. He observes festivals of his Newa community including <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra">Yenya</a>, Indra Jatra, enjoys his favourite choila baji and with friends, and occasionally momocha. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/wine-and-women-during-yenya">Wine and women during Yenya</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040936_b1f8b03dc37e18d45a24c93422715ea0f6480b050683893d0fc5f3a8d6a290ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240914040936_b1f8b03dc37e18d45a24c93422715ea0f6480b050683893d0fc5f3a8d6a290ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1833" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT2"> </figure>  But then a big new furniture factory is set up nearby, which takes away the jobs of those with the ancestral occupation of carpentry. Halucha loses his customers.&nbsp; One thing leads to another and by the 1970s, Halucha travels to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-in-the-garden-of-england">England for work</a> after borrowing money at a high interest rate. London is rainy and dreary, he struggles with the language and at his job. He has no friends, people look at him differently and treat him poorly. He feels lonely and homesick. The isolation affects his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-other-pandemic-mental-health">mental health</a> and before long, he loses his job and is homeless.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040952_5ff460d094ce67737cfcdf0bbf88edaadeffd58571806fe91bfc37a962d1390f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240914040952_5ff460d094ce67737cfcdf0bbf88edaadeffd58571806fe91bfc37a962d1390f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT3"> </figure>  Author Ojesh Singh weaves a layered tale that delves into the universal themes of migration, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">diaspora</a>, mental health, racism, heritage and identity in simple, engaging storytelling style with vibrant illustrations by Sahanshil Dangol in the new Nepali children’s book, London Lakhey. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/brain-gain-into-brain-drain">Brain gain into brain drain</a>, Sonia Awale “Children are smarter than we give them credit for, they have genuine reactions and responses, and the earlier they are exposed to difficult emotions, the sooner they will learn to express them openly and grow up better able to deal with them,” says Dangol on some of the heavier themes underlying London Lakhey. Indeed, as children’s literature, the book does not shy away from difficult topics. This was a very conscious choice, says Singh, who himself went to England in 1999 and is now an aerospace engineer running two restaurants specialising in Newa cuisine in London. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/passing-the-baton-on">The Unstoppables</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar&nbsp; “The story is inspired by some of my own experience when I moved to England and that of people close to me, the not-so-easy beginning, the loneliness,” adds Singh, who is in Kathmandu to launch the book.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040956_bc4f28cd93c2b2c568d979707bc0d8a04f37e0fe519e1d8752f952b91a5fdea2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240914040956_bc4f28cd93c2b2c568d979707bc0d8a04f37e0fe519e1d8752f952b91a5fdea2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1141" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT"> </figure>  “The first thing we Nepalis seek abroad is a plate of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dal-bhat-power">warm dal bhat</a> and not getting that can be so hard, then there are our festivals, dance and music that we miss so much.” Singh had it relatively easy as his father was already in the UK. But even then, he had to support himself and for the first five years he studied by day, while working at a restaurant at night. Finally, he bought his own restaurant, and another one a few years later. He calls them “Nepali-Indian” restaurants but actually specialise in Newa food, the first of few in the London area. “I do a lot of work virtually so the restaurant for me is like a living room and it is as if I am cooking for my friends and family, it keeps me feeling alive,” says Singh, whose clan home is in Basantapur. He is actively involved in the Pasa Pucha Guthi in London as one of the founding member since its inception in 2000. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-in-the-garden-of-england">Nepalis in the Garden of England</a>, Joy Stephens The Newa-English community in London organises cultural events including performing the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-spirit-that-is-fire">Lakhey mask dance</a> during Mha Puja, also the Newari New Year. This real-life tradition in London serves as an inspiration for the book. “The new generation of Nepali diaspora should know the struggles of their parents, what they went through, some were asylum seekers, others came for better opportunities,” says Singh, stating how this was one of the ideas behind the book, especially as he is himself a father now. A mutual contact brought animator and illustrator Sahanshil Dangol onboard for the book, and the two would go on to work closely for the nearly two years it took for the volume to develop. Dangol works for London-based studios and was previously involved in making commercials and music videos for up-and- coming Nepali artists like Yugal Gurung and Ankit Shrestha.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/memories-of-a-london-nepali-hangout">Memories of a London Nepali hangout</a>, Sunil Pun But what really got him passionate about the book project was the Lakhey element. During his undergrad, Dangol was working on a film to document his cousin’s mask dances in Pokhara but had to shelve it. He has since come across the Nepali Creative Gang, an online collective of artists, writers, game developers, animators and others which helps young talent with guidance and feedback as well as protection for their work. Dangol went on to develop a 4-minute-long stop motion film called Death and Exposure but he always had the Lakhey project at the back of his mind. “It felt like a second chance to work on something close to my heart,” he told Nepali Times in a video interview from London. It also helped that the characters spoke to him. Having moved to London at 11 following his father who was in the army, Dangol never felt like he quite fit in, neither in London, nor in Kathmandu. “Growing up, I didn’t have Nepali friends, and in any case, I didn’t feel like I completely belonged anywhere, and while I didn’t go through everything that Halucha went through in the story, I could still resonate with the character and sympathise with him, it is a relatable story with so many of our friends and families migrating today.” Dangol based the physical attributes of Halucha and other characters on people around him. The last few pages of the book are dedicated to the process of illustration including doodles and sketched studies of Lakhey and his masks. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/getting-behind-the-divine-mask">Getting behind the divine mask</a> The Lakhey mask depicted in the book is a variation of the real thing which is supposed to give devotees divine powers when they wear them. In fact, communities in Kathmandu did not want their actual mask to be represented in the book for fear of offending the deities.&nbsp; Lakhey is a demon in the carnival of God but is worshipped as a deity protecting townspeople of the Newa civilisation. He is depicted as having a ferocious face, protruding fangs, and a mane of red or black hair.&nbsp; During festivals including Indra Jatra which falls on 17 September this year (below), he comes out on the streets and dances in a trance whirling and jumping to the thump of drums.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040936_0d60bd64fe6b3db69c9654e3a90569768ba0caeaaaacd1b46b5ca4e357b21a6e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20240914040936_0d60bd64fe6b3db69c9654e3a90569768ba0caeaaaacd1b46b5ca4e357b21a6e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2170" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT 4"> </figure>  On the surface, London Lakhey is a children’s book but since its release, it has found as many adolescent and adult readers who have requested most copies, says Dangol. “I want our children to remember their roots and not be ashamed of it. They can so easily feel embarrassed because they are eating dal bhat for lunch and not burgers and pizza,” says Singh.&nbsp; “We have to own up to our roots but we don’t have to stick to one singular identity either, it can be a mix of Newa and British like in my own persona. This is important for stability and a peace of mind.” ­­  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040936_4af67a538381c66209f7cc834a6b2056857275cc12c2b3a5e3bf6f3f1c1c78c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20240914040936_4af67a538381c66209f7cc834a6b2056857275cc12c2b3a5e3bf6f3f1c1c78c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT 5"> </figure>

Sonia Awale

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MASK

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238229c7e80680e0c736cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"/><figcaption>The Gurju Paltan getting ready to kick off the Kumari chariot parade. ALL PHOTOS: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>Patan has Rato Machindranath, Bhaktapur has Biska, and the Newā people of Kathmandu have Yen yā as their biggest festival.Also known as Indra Jatra, the eight-day centuries old festival is marked by various masked dance prades representing different deities and demons performed in the choks and dabalis of the ancient town.The temples and intersections are lined with oblation of samaya baji and the chariots of Kumari, Bharaiv and Ganesh are paraded around different parts of town on different days.There are many origin stories of the festival, the more common of which is the one where Lord Indra comes to Kathmandu Valley disguised as a human, in search of a parijat flower for his mother Dagini. The locals catch him and parade him in the town center.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The legend behind the myth of Indra Jatra</a>, Desmond DoigA part of the festival is an reenactment of this legend with a representative idol of Indra at the city center, pulu kishi, the white elephant going around town searching for his master and Dagini coming down to earth in search of her son.Some version also say that the festival is the worship of nature and ancestors. In Indra Chok, the Aju dya diety, commonly known as Akash Bhairav, the male ancestor of the indigenous Newā people, is brought down from his sanctum and kept in a raised platform for eight days.Lesser known than Kathmandu, Bhaktapur too celebrates Indra Jatra for eight days a part of which involves taking the idol if Goddess Indrayani for rituals and a Dipawali.Here are some of the different dances and aspects of Yen ya captured by Nepali Times photojournalist Suman Nepali.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238259c7e80680e0c736djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1406"><figcaption>Living god Ganesh looks out of a window during Indra Jatra festival in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238289c7e80680e0c736ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"><figcaption>Living goddess Kumari during the Indra Jatra Festival</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372382b9c7e80680e0c736fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"><figcaption>People gather at Basantapur Darbar Square to view the chariot procession and masked dances.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372382f9c7e80680e0c7370jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1428"><figcaption>Devotees pull the chariots of Ganesh, Bhairav and Kumari.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238329c7e80680e0c7371jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1234"><figcaption>President Bidya Devi Bhandari, Mayor of Kathmandu Balen Shah and Deputy Mayor of Kathmandu Sunita Dangol with other dignitaries in Gaddi Baithak.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238359c7e80680e0c7372jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1296"><figcaption>Halchok Bhairav dance</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238389c7e80680e0c7373jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"><figcaption>Pulu Kisi</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372383b9c7e80680e0c7374jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1372"><figcaption>Living god Bhairav during teh chariot procession.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372383e9c7e80680e0c7375jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1306"><figcaption>People gather infront of Hatu dya (Swet Bhairav).</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238419c7e80680e0c7376jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1350"><figcaption>Majipa Lakhe</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238449c7e80680e0c7377jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1464"><figcaption>The idol of Akash Bhairav (Aju dya) is put on a raised platform in Indrachok.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238479c7e80680e0c7378jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"><figcaption>Indra's mother Dagini, comes down to earth in search of her son.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372384a9c7e80680e0c7379jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"><figcaption>Dancers perform Di pyakhan (Devi naach).</figcaption></figure>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqG_okS_wPI&amp;feature=emb_logoRead Also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/are-you-ready-for-indra-jatra/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Are you ready for Indra Jatra</a>, Nepali Times<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/wine-and-women-during-yenya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Wine and women during Yenya</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar

Kathmandu marks the Yen yā festival

The India Art Fair (IAF) advertises itself as ‘the biggest event in India’s cultural calendar … a leading platform’ for art collectors who can discover modern and contemporary art from South Asia.&nbsp; For this year’s ticketed event on 5-8 February in New Delhi, more than 133 exhibitors from 14 countries will be representing top artists from their networks. Danfe Arts, a touring art space from Kathmandu, will participate in the Galleries Section of IAF’s 17th edition featuring a booth with works by six Nepali artists.&nbsp; One of them is Sanjeep Maharjan, Assistant Professor for Sculpture at Kathmandu University, who will showcase his claywork as part of Danfe Arts’ entourage. In 2024, Maharjan curated a show for Danfe Arts at Takpa Gallery titled, ‘Unfolding the City’. The IAF prefers to showcase skilled artists who have honed their practice over many years. Much like various biennales and residencies that have been popping up increasingly in Asia, the Fair delves into sociopolitical issues of the region such as many comissioned works including <a href="https://indiaartfair.in/exhibitor/yogesh-barve-supported-by-art-charlie" target="_blank">Yogesh Barve</a>’s installation entitled ‘I am not your Dalit’ featured at the feastival last year.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260115110136_13f262546fca46c0fe4d76f758a694afe7c0c1cfee5bf74eb4f257f78734f8f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260115110136_13f262546fca46c0fe4d76f758a694afe7c0c1cfee5bf74eb4f257f78734f8f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="989" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali artists at India Art Fair"> <figcaption>Anil Shahi's Hand of Hope, Oil on Canvas, 36 x 60 inches. Exhibiting work at IAF.</figcaption> </figure>  As the name implies, it is a grand bazaar where artists and their agents show up, to be seen — a powerful regional platform where creativity merges with commercial interests. This is not necessarily a bad thing. Artists have a reputation for being weak at business.&nbsp; And in Kathmandu, where the contemporary art scene has been steadily expanding since the early aughts, more and more creatives are seeking platforms like IAF and collaborators like Danfe Arts in order to boost their portfolios. A NEW COURSE In 2022, I was invited to participate in a formal group discussion by founder of and curator at Danfe Arts Shivangi Bansal who was preparing to chart a new course with her Danfe Journal. The journal included photos of artworks as well as writings about art and helped bridge the gap between art and the Nepali public’s understanding of associated processes. Contemporary art and literature is considered a niche activity. Proper marketing and outreach is required to make the product accessible to the average consumer. Besides, consistency can also be an issue. Too often, energetic graduates might register organisations and launch initiatives only to burn out within a year or so. Nepali society would benefit more from a sustained effort with a long-term vision rather than trendy initiatives that look bright and shiny. Danfe Arts discontinued the journal but continued to engage with Nepal’s art community, like facilitating a commission for Mini Tamang by the India Art Fair (IAF) in 2025, as part of IAF’s Young Collector’s Program. Tamang’s artwork, ‘Evocative Waves’, was installed at New Delhi’s Stir Art gallery last year. In 2024, Danfe Arts had organised a group exhibition called ‘A Lake That Once Was’ in New Delhi’s Bikaner House to coincide with the India Art Fair, which listed the exhibition as part of its parallel programs. This meant the Nepali artists received more visibility and value among IAF’s much larger audience.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026011804014_2a15d57a63c375503965a41396b22c006152368a018450d2617f4c8c076ccc74.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026011804014_2a15d57a63c375503965a41396b22c006152368a018450d2617f4c8c076ccc74" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="arts"> <figcaption>A Lake That Once Was, 2024 at Bikaner House, Delhi.</figcaption> </figure>  Since its inception, Danfe Arts has put out an eclectic mix of programs, demonstrating innovative thinking and effort. With its multi-platform approach, Danfe Arts has collaborated with restaurants like Mezze, putting up an exhibition in November 2025, ‘Bhoye - The Feast’. Danfe Arts is also cultivating relationships with specific artists based on synergies and sensibilities.&nbsp; The history of art practice in Nepal is long and illustrious, but due to political and geographical constraints, esteemed artists have been sheltered and confined within our national borders.&nbsp; By featuring these six artists for the 2026 edition of IAF, Danfe Arts is helping them make regional connections. And as our artists and gallerists show up on global platforms, they might in turn compel Nepalis to view more critically the value of art and how creative practices can contribute positively to society. As technology takes over and AI bots spam the Internet, the issue of originality might become tantamount to survival. We should take risks in our professional pursuits in order to design new communal models of exchange. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; India Art Fair New Delhi 5-8 February&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026011804014_f226a31af8a33f8da5e7359886289de3fd1b2db17697b96b909404e582d75124.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026011804014_f226a31af8a33f8da5e7359886289de3fd1b2db17697b96b909404e582d75124" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="arts"> </figure>

Nepali artists at India Art Fair

The series <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/looking-good-by-doing-good">Nepal Made</a> profiles world-class Nepali products and the people behind them. Deepak Acharya was born and raised in Simara, before his uncle took him to Pokhara when he was only in sixth grade. After class, he helped sell jackets and outdoor gear at his uncle's Lakeside store. &nbsp; Twenty-two years later, &nbsp;Acharya is still selling jackets. Not international brands like he used to, but products of his own outdoor gear company, DOLPO.&nbsp; Acharya and his brother-in-law, Krishna Ammai, started making and selling jackets and gear for international companies out of Thamel. After losing his business partner in the 2015 earthquake, he was done selling imported items. He launched his own line of outerwear, named after Nepal’s rugged and remote district, known for its stunning arid landscape. The careful selection of the name DOLPO paid off. It took off, providing a high-quality, affordable Nepal-made alternative to foreign companies.&nbsp; “A lot of work went into choosing the name Dolpo,” says Acharya, who considered what came into people’s minds when they heard the name of a place with double-O sound. “I wanted a brand that local customers would instantly relate to toughness and mountains.” The elegant logo reflects this as well, made up of two overlapping rounded triangles denoting mountains with a third peak in the middle. Underneath is ‘DOLPO’ in upper case sans serif.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116120148_968d9354094049265372d851d0e44e16ae4fc86b5631481e365e6e977f13d37d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260116120148_968d9354094049265372d851d0e44e16ae4fc86b5631481e365e6e977f13d37d" data-rendition-name="original" width="854" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DOLPO</figcaption> </figure>  RIGHT QUALITY, RIGHT PRICE “Our philosophy is Right quality, Right price,” says co-founder Deepak Acharya, adding with a smile that the pricing strategy of a particular competitor has made business easy: “The employees at North Face may sell North Face, but they wear Dolpo.” The rebranding was so successful that Acharya regrets not launching it sooner. The reason for the success is that the outdoor gear market in Nepal has taken off with more and more domestic tourists trekking in the high mountains to share their adventures on social media.&nbsp; Nepalis seem to be consciously choosing sustainable, Nepal made products of international quality. Acharya says: “Of course, there will always be a demographic that only wears North Face, or Sonam. But we have the right design, right price philosophy.”&nbsp; DOLPO uses fabric and material mainly from Japan, and adheres to strict quality control. The reversible down jackets, windcheaters, shorts, fleece-lined pants, trekking trousers, backpacks, and polo shirts can be bought through its website, or two exclusive flagship stores in Sorakhutte and Thamel Chok. “After the rebrand, we slowly made a digital platform, marketed online, and worked with a delivery company to get items directly to buyers,” says Acharya. “We have no brokers or middlemen to keep prices low for the consumer.” DOLPO is a family business with Acharya’s mother and sister also involved, and nephew Nishant Ammai driving digital sales. Acharya points out that there is a lot of business opportunity in Nepal, as there are too many low-quality products being sold at too high a price. &nbsp;“The market is begging for an auto-correction,” he says. For Nepal’s pessimistic youth who are fleeing the country, Acharya urges patience: “The younger generation wants shortcuts. The mindset is to set up a venture and in three years they will be set for life. But this is not how success works.” “Choose a field, put in ten years of effort, really learn about it, and then you will see the vast possibility present in Nepal,” he continues.&nbsp; Last month, the DOLPO logo was seen on the jerseys of the Biratnagar Kings in NPL 2. The company made hats, jackets, and jerseys for star-studded cricket players including Lokesh Bam, Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf Du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. The Kings finished second in the group, and although Acharya is a football fan, he is happy to contribute to the rise of cricket in Nepal. &nbsp;&nbsp;

Proud to wear DOLPO

The wide <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-river-of-life">Karnali River</a> looks like the sea here in the Tarai, and thick fog makes it impossible to see the other shore. Farmers melt into the mist as they head off to their farms. A weak sun filters through by mid-morning. Pigs nap in their pens, goats are dressed in cardigans fashioned out of jute sacks for warmth, hens peck listlessly at the mud courtyards. Ducks waddle across the country roads, and cars swerve to avoid them. The indigenous Tharu and Sonaha communities here have deeply-rooted socio-cultural ties to the river. They have fished in it for generations, and fish is associated with births, deaths, and weddings. As their name suggests, the Sonaha have also traditionally panned for gold in the sand along the banks. But in recent decades, over-fishing, pollution and infrastructure have led to a decline in the Karnali’s fish population. Last week, near the Satti bridge connecting Sudurpaschim and Lumbini Provinces, the fog lifted to reveal the blue-green Karnali glimmering in the sun. Hundreds of people from Kailali’s Tikapur and Bardia’s Rajapur gathered for the inauguration of the Sakhi Fish Sanctuary — the first conservation effort of its kind in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_ef2493a1124a33e90ca39f3a0b861ffef4a8bde6b5d3839f96e2fe7f583d0de8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260116130120_ef2493a1124a33e90ca39f3a0b861ffef4a8bde6b5d3839f96e2fe7f583d0de8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> <figcaption>The Sonaha community have traditionally panned for gold in the sand along the banks of the Karnali River. Photos: GAYATRI PRADHAN / WWF NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  The sanctuary covers nearly 4 sq km of the Lower Karnali that falls within the two municipalities, and is ecologically significant since it serves as critical breeding, spawning, and nursery habitats for endangered fish, reptiles and mammals.&nbsp; Here are found the rare Gangetic River Dolphin (Platanista gangetica), the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/crocodile-chronicle">Gharial</a> (Gavialis gangeticus) &nbsp;fish-eating crocodile, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-karnali-otters">Smooth-coated Otter</a> (Lutrogale perspicillata). In addition, there are 197 species of fish in the Karnali, of which 136 are found here in the Tarai section of the river. The pebbled riverbed is a breeding ground for fish when the river is low, while the oxbow lakes and loops created by the nearby Satti bridge are nursing grounds for fish. This is what makes this section of the Karnali ideal to be declared a sanctuary. But what makes the conservation effort really unique is that it is an initiative of the two local municipalities, the local Tharu, Sonaha and other indigenous communities. The sanctuary will support the river’s aquatic biodiversity, and is supported by the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), the Dolphin Conservation Centre, Freed Kamaiya Women Development Forum, Small Mammals Conservation and Research Foundation, and the Sonaha Bikas Samaj.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260115110116_f844434e0191df09ad6d6d7887a69491eaf15f0ff1b093c7866ab22cfb0c6c95.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260115110116_f844434e0191df09ad6d6d7887a69491eaf15f0ff1b093c7866ab22cfb0c6c95" data-rendition-name="original" width="1358" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="6-7 map"> </figure>  MEKONG LESSONS The mayors of Tikapur and Rajapur visited fish conservation zones in Laos along the Mekong River to learn about their conservation practices. &nbsp; “We have indiscriminately killed the fish in the Karnali during the breeding and nursing season,” said Rajapur Mayor Dipesh Tharu at the inauguration. “We felt that if this continued there would be no fish left.” Tharu is aware that some locals are wary of conservation initiatives, fearing that it will ban fishing altogether. The sanctuary will allow sustainable fishing but ban the use of dynamite and poison to kill fish.&nbsp; “The sanctuary will contribute to the conservation of not just fish species, but also the mammals and reptiles that live here,” explained ichthyologist Suresh Wagle. “It will protect the spawning and nursing grounds, restore the natural habitat of fish and ensure their genetic continuation.” Tikapur’s mayor Ram Lal Dangaura Tharu recalled his own childhood spent fishing in the Karnali: “Even two decades ago there used to be plenty of fish here, we used to bring baskets full of them home. Now, it is looking like there will be no fish left. This is why the sanctuary is important.” Local governments taking the lead in conservation allows them to have ownership, and help citizens understand the importance of protecting the riverine ecosystem better.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_fddc696800b9b38d02736195af2b3535667cde365d56151ccf85eb0756f1ad8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260116130120_fddc696800b9b38d02736195af2b3535667cde365d56151ccf85eb0756f1ad8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> </figure>  “The commitment of the local government towards resource conservation, management and sustainable development is what makes this sanctuary so unique,” says Ghana Gurung of WWF Nepal. “In Nepal and across the world, we are seeing indigenous culture and traditions disappear with the biodiversity. This initiative will not just protect freshwater aquatic species but also the culture and heritage of indigenous groups linked to the river.” Komal Sonaha grew up fishing and panning for gold along the banks of the Karnali. The fish provided food, and the gold brought additional income. Sonaha also remembers Karnali brimming with fish when she was young. “But now, there are hardly any left,” she said. &nbsp; Sonaha is also a WWF Otter Champion, and part of the community-run river conservation groups that mobilise local communities for awareness. “Initially there was anger and suspicion among local communities, but now, there is a realisation that the sanctuary is the best thing that could have happened here,” Sonaha added.&nbsp; Sonaha and her family still pan for gold, but with the fish scarce, their primary means of livelihood has shifted to livestock like many other families in Tikapur and Rajapur, supported by national and local institutions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_23d679da5c49f22342b4fd80f0d0ec5a1fb4c38fb4ac379d276a959f435b4f68.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260116130120_23d679da5c49f22342b4fd80f0d0ec5a1fb4c38fb4ac379d276a959f435b4f68" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> <figcaption>Local communities whose livelihoods are linked with the Karnali river have been supported by organisations like WWF Nepal and other national and local organisations to set up alternative means of income generation.</figcaption> </figure>  Ashmita Tharu and Pratima Tharu also used to depend on fish, but now have shifted to vegetable farming in Rajapur. This time of year, there is spinach, cucumber, and cauliflower ready to be sold to nearby markets. The women are now financially independent and actively contribute to their household expenses and their children’s education. Said Pratima: “We used to fish in this river without thinking about the consequences. We had no idea how important conservation was.”&nbsp; Ashmita nods in agreement. “Now, we are self-employed and so busy with our vegtables that we do not even have time to fish anymore,” she said. With Tikapur and Rajapur municipalities leading the charge, conservationists hope that other local governments and communities along other rivers in Nepal will follow suit to preserve aquatic biodiversity.&nbsp; “This initiative from the two municipalities is a milestone in conservation,” said Bijay Shrestha of the Dolphin Conservation Centre. “This will serve as a model and can be replicated across the country to conserve our freshwater habitat and the people who rely on them.” Local officials also hope that the sanctuary will provide an opportunity to explore options like fishing tourism. &nbsp; Said Tikapur Mayor Ram Lal Dangaura Tharu: “The Karnali, with its biodiversity, is a river of opportunity and possibility, we are determined to protect it, and make what this river has to offer known to Nepal and the world.” &nbsp; This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG"> </figure>

Karnali Aquatic Reserve

This is the 80th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad.
I worked in Kuwait for 11 years before deciding to call it quits. I had not visited Nepal in nine years. A broker from eastern Nepal had arranged the migration of 15 of us, and I was the only one from Jajarkot. 
Since the government did not allow domestic workers to migrate, we went through India. We were afraid he might sell us off in India. I had never left my village. As a precaution, we made the female broker accompany us to India till we flew out to Kuwait.
At the airport in Kuwait, no one came to pick us up and we waited there for two days. We did not have any money so we had to beg for food and water. Some gave us noodles, biscuits and water. Others ignored us. 
We even drank water from used bottles from the trash. The Indian agent finally came to pick us up but we were too scared to confront him.
The first house I was placed in was not good. I did not speak Arabic and I did not know how to use the iron or washing machine. A Filipino worker helped me, but madam kept following me around and making me do everything twice. It was not easy at all.
Not able to understand the language I was like someone dumb and deaf. Hand gestures were not sufficient. I don’t know how I passed those two years before returning to Nepal. But there were no jobs, no money. So I decided to migrate again to Kuwait because it felt familiar, and by this time I spoke Arabic. 
This time, I stayed with the same family for nine years. All four children in the house were born when I was there, so they are very attached to me. Madam was all right although she made me work a lot and micromanaged me. Every family member in Kuwait had their car and driver. Back home we don’t even own personal bicycles.
Taking care of children meant that I could go wherever they went so I got to travel and eat pizzas and burgers. They paid me on time, and I sent money home to take care of my sister, a cancer survivor.
With my savings I also bought land and built a small house in Surkhet. I have no educational background or work experience, so this was a big deal.
For nine years, I did not see a reason to return because of my obligations to my sister and her son. In Kuwait, I met with colleagues from different countries like the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Indonesia and India but we communicated in Arabic. We worked for different families but got to meet every Thursday when madams used to go to her mother’s house. 
We got along and fought like sisters, but most of our time went running after the children. There was no time for anything else. Madam’s house where I spent nine years was good, but it is actually how well the employers treat us that is important.
I watched Tiktok videos during my free time. Mostly deuda songs. During the GenZ movement, I was glued to social media. I supported it, but wished they had not burnt down government offices. I was not allowed to post on social media. 
By the time I left, I was making around 180 Kuwait dinar a month ($580). I have heard horror stories from Nepali sisters about their employers, but mine paid me well and on time. She could have been better by allowing me to rest more, to use the phone more freely. 
Between preparing children for school, ironing, washing, cleaning the house, cooking, taking care of the children, I had no time for anything. Not even to sleep properly. What can we do?
Back in Nepal I often wonder how the children are doing. If they are eating well. You get attached to them, but as they grow older, they also complain about us. I used to sing and dance with the kids. They depended on me for everything and I had watched them right from the time they were born. 
Sometimes, they used to refer to me as their mother which my madam did not like. I don’t have my own kids. That is why when I made up my mind to leave, I felt bad leaving them behind, especially the youngest one who relied on me for everything. 
Even now, when I think about it, my eyes tear up. Madam asked me to take a long vacation and return to Kuwait, but I had made up my mind to go back to Nepal. A Sri Lankan woman replaced me, and we overlapped for a month as I trained her and the children got used to her. 
On my last day, Madam and I decided that I should sneak out without telling the children because they would not be able to handle it. I asked the Sri Lankan woman how the children are holding up, and she said the youngest one still cries asking about me. Madam was also emotional about me leaving, she gave me olive oil, clothes and sweets but no money. I cannot describe how happy I was to get on the plane to return home, my heart was full of excitement.
Since I came back, it has been a very different experience. After nine years of living in someone else’s house where my every move was monitored, I feel so free. I can use the phone as I please. I can sleep as I please. I need to catch up on my sleep. There is so much freedom. 
Because of the children, I had developed a taste for pizzas and burgers but they are not as tasty in Nepal, I don’t know why. But the meal I was craving for when I came home was freshly made rice, lentils and mustard greens. I went to the hospital here, and I saw nurses in uniform and it reminded me of the domestic workermaid’s clothes I wore in Kuwait. 
I am worried about money running out, even though it has only been a few weeks. Expenses are high in Nepal. The monthly income has stopped. When I went a decade ago, I relied on others financially. Now, there are others who depend on me.
Author wants to remain anonymous.

lakhe-dance

MASK

Kathmandu marks the Yen yā festival

Nepali artists at India Art Fair

Proud to wear DOLPO

Karnali Aquatic Reserve

Homecoming after nine years