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

Laxman Ranjit walks on past the Kasthamandap, one of the Valley’s oldest buildings, from which the city gets its name. There are days when he stops by it briefly. The structure that dates back to the 7th century is in scaffolding as it is being rebuilt after being destroyed on 25 April 2015 earthquake. It was here that Ranjit, his wife Nilu and five-year-old son, Aryan, found themselves during a blood donation drive when the earthquake struck. When the earth started trembling, and the wooden beams and columns of the structure started to shake, Ranjit immediately clasped Aryan to his chest and leapt out of the balcony. He saved his son’s life, but could not save his wife Nilu, whose body was pulled out of the rubble with nine other <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/The-fall-of-Kasthamandap,2234">blood donors who died</a> that day at Kasthamandap. A national level athlete, Ranjit had had the presence of mind and the agility to pick his son up and jump out as the ancient structure collapsed behind them, breaking his leg at several places during the fall. “I never thought Nilu would die,” he recalls. “As they rushed me to hospital I was in excruciating pain, but I remember thinking they must have taken her to hospital as well.” When the dust from the earthquakes had settled, Ranjit suddenly found himself a widower, a single father, left to care for his son and an ageing father. He would spend several months recuperating at the National Trauma Centre, undergoing surgery and counselling. Every time Ranjit leaves his home in Chikamuga in the past six years, he has had to walk past Kasthamandap, and this has become a constant reminder to him of that tragic day. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5cf9c7e80680e09672fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"> Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</div> Laxman is a torch bearer of the Ranjit clan, which has to perform the Majipa Lakhe ritual mask dance during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-celebrates-yenya/">Indra Jatra festival</a> every year. Aside from that, he also leads a parallel mortal existence as a policeman and a national level weight lifting champion in the feather weight category. In <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/getting-behind-the-divine-mask/">his guise of the Majipa Lakhe</a> he used to put on a memorable performance every year, making him the undisputed, celebrated member of the clan of masked dancers. But 25 April 2015 changed his life. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5d39c7e80680e096730jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="559" height="278"></div> The days in hospital were an awakening. He recalls how impatient he was to get out into the world again, and how he would walk around the wards, raising the spirits of other injured survivors like himself. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5d49c7e80680e096731jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1933"> </div> “There was this bahini who had injured her back. I said to her, you have a life ahead of you, look at me, I lost my wife, I have a child and I might no longer be able to do my job. It is the spirit that keeps us alive, life is not over,” he recalls. Ranjit was not going to let a broken leg strap him, and he knew he would have to don his mask and go back gyrating into the Indra Jatra throng. He missed being behind the ferocious mask, the flowing brocade frock, with the bells clanking around his waist, and dashing through the streets without restraint. He also missed his life as an athlete. Even while recovering from his injury, the next Indra Jatra saw him supporting his brothers who were upholding the responsibility of performing the mask dance. And that is when he met Amrita Maharjan, who he would eventually marry. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5d79c7e80680e096732jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="853"> Phoot curtesy of Laxman Ranjit.</div> “I had heard about what he had been through,” Maharjan tells us. “We met through a cousin. I finally saw who the lakhe really was, and he was a child.” As Amrita spent more time with the father and son, she understood that she would soon have a role to play in their lives. They had a small wedding on the side of Aryan’s Bratabandha ceremony last year. “She has filled a void in our lives,” says Ranjit. “Nilu left me because I spent too much time at work. I will try to spend more time with my family now.” Ranjit is now back to work as the red-haired masked demon at Indra Jatra. He says, “Once I wore my gear, I was the lakhe. My body found the rhythm again.” Because of his injuries, the 41-year-old finds that he can no longer compete as a weight lifter and is considering other professional options. “I could remain a policeman until I retire and wait for a pension, but that will not be enough to give my son a good education,” says Ranjit, who has turned down offers to cameo as Lakhey at national events. Ranjit is troubled by the projection of lakhe as characters in YouTube videos, which have been criticised as cultural misappropriation. “There’s nothing wrong with culture. One needs to understand the history of the land and its connection to the people first,” he says. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5db9c7e80680e096733jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="798"> Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</div> Like all boys in the Ranjit clan, someday Aryan will inherit the mask and fiery attire, which the family regards as a source of strength, but until then the father hopes to build his son’s emotional resilience. “The spirit of the lakhe is indomitable, it does not cower down to anything. The demon is actually a representation of who we are as humans,” Ranjit explains. “We fall, but we have to rise and we have to keep going. It is all about will power.”

Pratibha Tuladhar

The spirit that is fire

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a587f9c7e80680e05483bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1886"/><figcaption>All photos: SAMIR SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>As Kathmandu got ready to celebrate Yenya Punhi (Indra Jatra) with its Kumari chariot procession last week, the masked dancers were also getting ready for their popular street performances.Laxman Ranjit was inside the Lakhey House in the Basantapur Square in Kathmandu, preparing for the ritual. The dancers do not just don masks, leg bells, and colourful flowing skirts, they have to actually go into a divine trance where they become the embodiment of the gods and demons they represent.Whoever wears the mask gets energy from it, and is consumed by its holy aura. As other devotees help Laxman Ranjit get dressed up, his demeanour changes. It looks like the spirit is already entering his body.Finally, a white turban is wrapped on his head which will hold the mask on his head. Four men  hold Ranjit on either side to restrain him as the red lakhey mask is put on.As he is led to the door, there are some rituals to perform: an oil lamp is waved in front of his face as Ranjit’s body starts to shake – at first imperceptibly, but with more and more energy.  Outside on the street, hundreds of people are waiting eagerly for the first lakheys to emerge, as they have for centuries before.Once out of the Lakhey House Laxman Ranjit’s energy explodes like a volcano. The shouts and screams of the crowd seems to energise him even more as he leaps, and spins like a dervish.Masked dancers are ordinary people going about their daily jobs the rest of the year, but at Indra Jatra, designated masked dancers are possessed by the divine spirit and can change into powerful demons or gods just by putting on the holy mask.It is the power of faith, devotion and a responsibility to carry on the culture of their forebears that keeps this festival of the Kathmandu Valley Civilisation alive.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58829c7e80680e05483cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1762"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58859c7e80680e05483djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1887"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58889c7e80680e05483ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1869"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a588c9c7e80680e05483fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1765"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a588f9c7e80680e054840jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1950"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58929c7e80680e054841jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1933"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58959c7e80680e054842jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1993">Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-celebrates-yenya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu celebrates Yenyā</a>, Monika Deupala

Getting behind the divine mask

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

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

We were used to getting stuck in Kathmandu’s notorious traffic with gas fumes and horns blaring. We are still stuck in traffic, but now it is mostly the quiet hum of EVs, and street-level air is noticeably cleaner. Alongside Norway, Nepal has the highest combustion-to-EV conversion rates in the world. And we are not even a middle-income country yet. How did we get here?&nbsp; For the first time in Nepal’s history, 2025 saw an unprecedented turn of events: two back-to-back auto shows a week apart in August, independent of each other. This was timed for the warm up to the Dasain season. &nbsp;&nbsp; The first auto show 6-11 August was the <a href="https://naimanepal.org/mobility-expo" target="_blank">NAIMA Mobility Expo 2025 </a>by the newly established Nepal Automobile Importers and Manufacturers Association which saw 35 new models, many of them EVs with 50 participating brands like Toyota, BYD, Hyundai, Kia, MG, Mahindra, Omoda &amp; Jaecoo, Proton and Leapmotor.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1770" height="1097" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The exhibition had a strong focus on two-wheelers aimed at affordable and easy mobility in a town now known for long traffic jams (see report). NAIMA attracted a record 100,000 visitors in six days.&nbsp; The second one was the Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association Auto Show 2025 (<a href="https://youtu.be/emSd0mUuMjU" target="_blank">NADA</a>) to address the growing demands for cars and two-wheelers. It was a natural expression of new market forces at work, on one hand, and popular taste, on the other — one influencing the other.&nbsp; This year’s NADA Auto Show was its 17th iteration, and carried a hefty legacy: exhibiting a contemporary lineup from manufacturers such as Tata, Suzuki, Xpeng and Nammi, but also classics for vintage car lovers like the 1928 Ford Model A and a rare 1955 Austin Princess Dm4 sedan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1381" height="848" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  It also showcased the Deepal eVTOL (a 2-seater drone), and a humanoid robot with dog. Curious onlookers at Bhrikuti Mandap thronged the show with footfall crossing 170,000.&nbsp; Earlier this year, I had traveled to attend India's largest auto show, the <a href="https://youtu.be/OgIIvXx6yOM?si=zNmMgklzCJpagTye" target="_blank">Bharat Mobility Global expo</a> in January in New Delhi. It was part of a <a href="https://youtu.be/GT6LBKiJvyg?si=r7YaxahjSAnsIfBY" target="_blank">roadtrip</a> from one capital to another with BYD Nepal on a Dolphin. The journey took three days through Bhairawa and then the Lucknow-Agra Expressway, covering a distance of 1200km one way.&nbsp; The drive through the horrid Narayanghat-Butwal corridor alone was testimony that EVs are no longer fragile and could handle a beating. And while both Nepal's economy pales in comparison to India, it was evident that the private passenger segment is well on its way to electrification. More than 70% of all vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric. Sales representatives are unanimous: inquiries for EVs are at an all-time high and overshadow demand for ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles. Besides four-wheelers, a fast-growing proportion of scooters were also electric.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="863" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  I have spent the last two years <a href="https://youtu.be/256YQa37Ol8?si=Sv1wQ8EdvgMCiTM_" target="_blank">reviewing</a> many of these EVs. The days of batter-powered cars being small toy cars, with sub-par build quality and the range of golf carts have long gone.&nbsp; Fit and finishing in both Chinese and Indian EVs are comparable to established brand names even in Japanese and European markets. But most significantly for us in Nepal, battery technology and range have made inter-city travel on our highways imaginable. The media sometimes portrays Nepal as a prime testing/dumping ground for EVs due to lack of regulation and the proximity to the world’s largest EV exporter (China) and our tough geographical conditions. That is just a part of the story. What actually stands out is the incredible appetite for risk among Nepali buyers.&nbsp; Since the Covid pandemic charging infrastructure has spread across the country. My early trips between Kathmandu and Pokhara saw the possibility of topping up with just one charging gun at the <a href="https://rsr.com.np/" target="_blank">Riverside Springs Resort in Kurintar</a> – and I would have to wait in line, or the charger simply would not be working.&nbsp; These days, by the time I cross Kurintar from Koteswor in my Kona, I will have passed at least 10 charging stations with multiple guns. &nbsp; On my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">YouTube reviews</a>, people from across the globe ask about range and handling EVs on poor road conditions like ours. The occasional skeptics also leave comments like: ‘If this works in the higher altitudes and mountainous roads of Nepal, then it should be a breeze down here in the flats of Australia and/or hills around Auckland!’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1139" height="787" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  SATURATION? However, both the NAIMA and NADA auto show also confirmed that we could be hitting a peak EV. From having just one car in one budget segment, there are now multiple alternatives stretching from the entry of below Rs3 million to the premium and high-end Rs 10 million price point.&nbsp; Furthermore, the price wars on EVs that started in China a year ago have also trickled across to Nepal. Models such as the <a href="https://youtu.be/3wFN2I81Tq0?si=T6L4SAfRpoyNNvYC" target="_blank">MG S5</a>, Nammi Vigo, BYD Atto 2 (and 1) and <a href="https://youtu.be/y214kWbWTc4?si=bIevanDZEPQdkEs4" target="_blank">Deepal S05</a> saw aggressive pricing schemes and discounts that disrupted pre-existing quotas. Consumers can suddenly afford a lot more cars, and travel a lot further for a considerably smaller price tag.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1953" height="1107" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  However, booking numbers at both auto shows did not necessarily translate into actual deliveries. The fact remains that almost 80% of registered vehicles in Nepal are still two-wheelers, and GDP per capita stands at just $1500 — among the lowest in the world.&nbsp; This means that early first-adopters are first-time buyers, and the remaining customers in the market are more skeptical and less willing. But there are also those that are unlikely to consider the EV suitable to travel to off-road rural areas. For the average Nepali family, upgrading or purchasing a new car is no small decision. It happens in five years or more with resale values being a big determinant. The EV boom may be reaching saturation.&nbsp; Both NADA and NAIMA shows drove home the message that Nepal’s transport sector is on an electric fast-track, but the road ahead will be bumpy.&nbsp; Soon after the shows, the glacial debris flow on the Bhote Kosi knocked out the Rasuwa-Kerung border with China, and earlier landslides had already blocked the Koradi checkpoint. Manufacturers are now using the less convenient Korala border in Mustang. BYD, Leapmotor and Omoda &amp; Jaecoo have begun rerouting their vehicles to make up for delivery deadlines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1031" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Although the distance from the capital to the Korala border (470km) is four times longer than from Rasuwa (128km) &nbsp;and Tatopani (112km), it is still considered faster and more cost effective than shipping via India using sea routes.&nbsp; And then Nepal was engulfed in turmoil after the youth-led protests of 8-9 September and its aftermath. Many automobile showrooms around Thapathali including Tata, Hyundai and CG were vandalised and torched.&nbsp; Sushila Karki leads a caretaker government till elections are held in March, and the unsettled situation will affect the economy and investment climate as well as the automobile sector. Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Youtube</a>, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Tiktok</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/casuallyannoyeddriver/" target="_blank">IG</a>, and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

Nepali Times: You just climbed Mt Everest without oxygen and then skied down the mountain. How does one even train for something like that?&nbsp; Andrzej Bargiel: What made skiing down Everest possible was all the years of experience I’ve gained in high-altitude mountains. Spending a lot of time in the high mountains helps me read the snow, the conditions, and potential hazards. I need to ski often, especially in steep and exposed terrain, so that it becomes a place where I feel completely at home.&nbsp; I also climb regularly, I am an IFMGA mountain guide. I also run, ride a bike, and work out in the gym. Like in any endurance sport, I have to prepare my body for the demands of an expedition.&nbsp; What motivated you to do Everest? This was actually my third attempt on Everest. After many years of ski mountaineering and racing, I felt it would be great to use that experience to take on a meaningful project in the Himalaya. It’s about exploring what’s really possible, testing my limits, and seeing how far I can go. I was inspired by people like Davo Karničar, Fredrik Ericsson, and Hans Kammerlander, who showed that skiing in the high mountains can truly be done.&nbsp; What do you have to be most careful about when skiing at such high altitude? You really have to manage your energy well, because you need to be ready to spend many hours at very high altitude — even above 8,000 meters. Risk management is essential. You have to read the signals nature gives you and make the right decisions, choosing safe moments to move. The dangers are always there: avalanches, crevasses, extreme fatigue, and exposed terrain, so you have to stay fully aware and focused. Safety comes first, always. You also need to stay open to changing your plans, because in the mountains, things don’t always go the way you expect.&nbsp; Why did you choose autumn and not spring?&nbsp; Autumn is really the only season when you can think about making a full ski descent from the summit all the way to base camp. In the spring there’s much more ice left after winter, and the snow cover is broken. A full descent simply isn’t possible then, because too much rock and ice are exposed. Of course, in spring it’s easier to climb the mountain. The conditions are more stable, the snow is firmer, there’s less avalanche risk, and you don’t have to wade through deep snow. The autumn ascent is very complex and demanding, which is why so few expeditions attempt it. But in autumn, skiing becomes possible. Several meters of fresh snow fall on Everest’s slopes, covering the rocks and ice, and that transforms the mountain into something wild, beautiful, and most importantly skiable. What was your favourite part this time? The moment I remember most fondly was reaching the summit — and that first stretch just below the top, when I clicked into my skis and started moving down through surprisingly nice snow. It felt smooth and natural, a kind of free, easy glide down toward the Hillary Step. I could feel the movement, the flow, and at the same time this awareness that I was skiing from the highest point on Earth. It was just a really good feeling. The Icefall was another special moment. I felt from a skier’s point of view that it really worked. I could make my turns, and the descent itself was fun, technical, but a beautiful one too — full of variety, weaving through ice towers and seracs that looked incredible in the sunlight. It was challenging, but also just pure joy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Andrzej Bargiel NT"> </figure>  And what was most challenging? The hardest moment came on 14 September, during our first summit push attempt. We were breaking trail in deep snow and reached the South Col in the evening. I already knew we wouldn’t be going higher that night, so I decided to stay there, to use the climb to acclimatise.&nbsp; But after that attempt failed, the team completely lost faith that the project could still succeed. Almost everyone started packing up, convinced it was over, nobody thought that the snow would stabilise enough.&nbsp; I skied down from the Col early the next morning in really good conditions, while the rest of the team descended on foot. Rebuilding belief within the team that it could still be done was the toughest part, mentally. It took me several days to bring that energy and motivation back, to make everyone believe again that we could try once more. What was your support crew like?&nbsp; I want to thank the whole team — all team members from Poland, all those who contributed to the project, all the sponsors, and the Seven Summit Treks crew, especially Dawa Sherpa, who had the courage to go to the top with me.&nbsp; In the end, his courage made it possible. Doing it alone would have been almost impossible. With him there, I felt safe, and that made all the difference. What potential for skiing do you see in the Himalaya?&nbsp; Huge. There’s massive potential here both for ski touring and for a more recreational form of skiing. In the Himalaya, there are so many mountains you can ski from, and they don’t have to be eight-thousanders.&nbsp; There is an incredible amount of snow even in the lower valleys during the winter, which makes it a really interesting place for skiing. You can find great powder and enjoy long, wide runs.&nbsp; The key, I think, is to keep developing local guiding structures. There should be more certified guides in Nepal, Sherpas gaining guiding qualifications, and a proper professional rescue service. That would definitely increase the sense of safety for both skiers and tourists coming to the mountains. I’d love to come back to the Himalayas one winter just to ski in those lower parts — in deep snow, on much longer and wider skis – that would be pure pleasure. At those lower altitudes, the fun can be so much greater, with a more relaxed, freeride kind of feeling.