These are the forgotten Nepalis, who do not seem to matter to anyone in all three levels of government. Elected members of ward, municipal or provincial councils should be listening to them, but they do not.&nbsp;
The demand for federalism was first raised from these districts which were always treated as peripheral by Kathmandu. Yet, even after the provinces were carved out in 2015 to devolve decision-making, these families on the margins still do not count.&nbsp;
They are not powerless, they were never given any power. They are not voiceless, they are not allowed a voice.
The state does not need to move mountains to meet their needs. Their needs are simple: make the citizenship process easier, provide a hand pump in the village for safe drinking water, make sure the health post has a nurse, protect them from persecution from powerful castes.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/fogbound-tarai">Fogbound Tarai</a>, Chandra Kishore
But the gap between Nepalis who have access to state services and those left out is widening. Grassroots democracy under federalism has not changed the fortunes of those at the grassroots. A new class of politicians is emerging who are riding identity-based provincial politics, but they have no time for the corner people who elected them.
The state’s legitimacy should stem from how much the perennially outcast, landless or Dalits are allowed to voice their concerns. Eight years after the Constitution, and two elections later, there has been no improvement in the condition of Nepal’s most underserved.
The problem of landless Dalits in the Tarai is different from others from this community in Nepal. Families are crammed inside mud and thatch huts come winter, summer or monsoon.
I ask them if the ward or municipality leaders they elected have ever visited, and they shake their heads. Provincial politics is just a proxy for Kathmandu’s bloated centralised system.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/feudal-federalism/">Feudal federalism</a>, Editorial
In these backwaters of the Tarai, political power comes out of the claws of excavators mining sand from rivers. Power is flaunted by hobnobbing with imported godmen, by ignoring the victims of loan sharks, or neglecting the neglected.
The Constitution guarantees freedom of expression. But that freedom means nothing to people not given the means to express themselves. Grassroots democracy was supposed to be the mechanism for them to be heard, but that channel has been muted by power brokers.
Local radio stations and media should have stepped in, but they are victims of self-censorship themselves. Media owners are hand in glove with the powers that they cannot hold to account. The social media sphere is too preoccupied with sharing selfies.
The local media should be the medium to amplify the concerns of excluded castes and classes, and be the solution. But it is a part of the problem. Local journalists are megaphones for the already rich and powerful, they have no time for those at ground zero.
Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/un-centralising-the-federal-structure"> Un-centralising the federal structure</a>, Chandra Kishore
These are families so deprived and abandoned they do not even have the resources or connections to march to Kathmandu to press their demands. Small people have small wants, but multiply these with the expectation of millions and it becomes a wildfire of outrage that can engulf those in the ivory towers.
A recent visit to the hinterlands of Madhes Province was a chance for me to hear about local governments engaged in local plunder. In paddy fields and roadside shacks, there was talk of corruption, extortion and a sense of abandonment. These districts in the plains used to be ignored by Kathmandu, now they are ignored by the local officials they themselves elected.&nbsp;
The movers and shakers of the Madhes regard genuine empowerment at the grassroots with suspicion, afraid that freedom will allow the anger to erupt one day.
And to distract public attention from this failure to address the needs of the neediest, politicians use aggressive intolerance and refuse to even acknowledge that the people they were elected to serve do exist. &nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Analysis/how-decentralised-is-federalism,776">How decentralised is federalism?</a>, Kiran Nepal 
 
<a href="https://twitter.com/Kishore_chandra">Chandra Kishore</a> is a Birganj-based commentator who writes this monthly column Borderlines for Nepali Times.

Chandra Kishore

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The outcasts

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101144/63720df99c7e80680e0b78efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>Illustration: RABINDRA</figcaption></figure>Over the past 30 years since the first People’s Movement, we have seen that things start moving in Nepal when local governments are empowered. Devolution to village and district development councils in the 1990s forced local leaders to be accountable, especially in service delivery.In fact, everything that has worked well in Nepal till now has the word ‘community’ in it: community radio, community forests, community women’s groups, community-managed schools and hospitals, community irrigation systems.Unfortunately, political intrigue, the Maoist conflict and a return to an authoritarian monarchy meant that there were no local government elections for 20 years till 2017. Their five year tenure is now coming to an end, and the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/polls-in-the-time-of-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">second local elections under the federal system</a> are being held on 13 May in 460 rural municipalities, 260 municipalities, 11 sub-metropolitan cities and six metropolitan cities. Candidates are already on the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/battle-lines-drawn-for-nepal-elections/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">campaign trail</a>, and for many this is a chance to prove through performance that they deserve a second term.These new mayors and ward chairs were guinea pigs. They not only had to make up for lost time but also deal with a complex maze of new overlapping regulations and jurisdictions. There was confusion galore on budget, revenue, civil service appointments.Despite having swept the 2017 elections, bitter political strife within the ruling Nepal Communist Party<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-post-breakup-politics/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> led to its fragmentation</a> into the UML, Maoist Centre and Unified Socialists last year. The stranglehold of political parties over the federal structure also meant that corruption and infighting got decentralised as well.All this gave the ‘F’ word such a bad name that the alternative Bibeksheel Sajha Party in its manifesto even calls for scrapping federalism altogether. Much of this negative public perception is fed by cynical Kathmandu-centric analysts and commentators.The reality is different. An evaluation by the National Natural Resource and Fiscal Commission (NNRFC) has given nearly all 753 municipalities above pass marks. In fact, the top three that scored more than 75 out of 100 points in the survey are all rural municipalities. Public opinion polls have shown that most respondents are happy with the functioning of local governments, especially in rural areas.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-local-election-gives-power-back-to-people/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal's local election gives power back to people</a>, Rabin GiriTo be sure, many municipalities have been captured by corrupt contractors who got themselves elected in 2017. They rented out their own excavators to their municipalities, and awarded themselves road contracts.This does not mean, however, that we should throw out the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">federalism </a>baby with the bathwater.Kathmandu’s Ward 14 is a model for how elected officials at the sub-municipal level should perform. Ward chair Sobha Sapkota has transformed her constituency by coordinating between various federal ministries, central-level agencies and Kathmandu Metropolitan City to sort out traffic, upgrade roads, and ensure water distribution.Sapkota had noticed how women had to wait hours for water every morning and made improving supply a priority. She has proven why it is important to have women heading local governments, and brings a whole new perspective to service delivery.In Bhaktapur, Mayor Sunil Prajapati set an example for other municipalities about how to serve a city’s citizens. He set a firm priority on quality education from pre-school to university, made basic health care affordable and door-to-door saving many lives during the pandemic. He rejected a €10 million German grant for post earthquake reconstruction of monuments because of too many strings attached, and restored 118 temples with local resources.“Despite confusion and duplication we have seen that federalism has allowed true devolution of governance and service delivery,” says Balananda Poudel, Chair of the NNRFC. “In 2017, local governments had to start from zero and learnt as they went along.”The past five years have also thrown up design defects in the decentralisation project. Instead of devolution some places have directed democracy with faux-federalism. It is not just Singha Darbar in Kathmandu that sets budgets and earmarked outlays for provincial and municipal governments, but a handful of men in the headquarters of political parties. These vestiges of feudalism <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Analysis/how-decentralised-is-federalism,776" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">co-exist with federalism</a>.Although we say there are three levels of government in the current system, there is actually a fourth: the district administration. Staffed by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/including-the-excluded-in-the-bureaucracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">centrally-appointed bureaucrats</a>, it is Kathmandu’s ears and eyes on the ground. It controls vital services like citizenship and passport issuance, and other registrations – functions that can easily be done by a department of municipalities or provinces.District demarcations, district administrations and CDOs are obsolete and redundant. They do not align with the values of devolution and could be done away with to free us of the centralised mindset of the past.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/power-to-the-periphery/">Power to the periphery</a>, Sonia Awale

Feudalism to Federalism

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101144/63720df49c7e80680e0b78edjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>Photo: NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>“The paradox is this: if economic rationality tells us that the next century will be the age of global integration of the world’s economies, cultural ‘irrationality’ steps in to inform us that it will also be the century of ethnic demands and revived nationalisms. Both reason and imagination tell us that the name of the solution, that point where you can balance the demands of integration and those of the nationalities, is federalism.”-Carlos Fuentes, 1996These were the concluding remarks in 2003 by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/remembering-harka-gurung/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">geologist Harka Gurung</a> quoting the Mexican novelist in his discourse ‘Trident and Thunderbolt: Cultural Dynamics in Nepalese Politics’ as part of Social Science Baha’s Mahesh Chandra Regmi Lecture.There was a reason and relevance to Gurung quoting Fuentes. Nepal was at the peak of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-the-frontlines-of-nepals-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist conflict</a> and had just come off one of the bloodiest years of the insurgency. Abolition of the monarchy and state restructuring were being hotly debated even in the remotest corners of Nepal. King Gyanendra had staged a coup and political parties were preparing to take to the streets.Gurung was killed in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepals-conservation-heroes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ghunsa helicopter crash</a> a few months after the ceasefire, but his 'federalism' solution was finally adopted in the 2015 Constitution.The preamble to the Constitution reads, ‘... resolving to build an egalitarian society based on the principles of proportional inclusion and representation to ensure economic equality, prosperity and social justice by assimilating the multi-ethnic, multi-lingual, multi-religious, multi-cultural and geographically diverse characteristics...’In accordance with this constitutional commitment and provision, elections for 753 local governments were held in 2017. Next month, it will be five years since they took office and on 13 May <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/think-nationally-vote-locally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepalis will vote</a> for the second time in local elections.How successful have local governments been in 'establishing prosperity with social justice by addressing the diverse features of Nepali society' as directed by the Constitution? How much has service delivery improved, is it equitable, and is there <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/power-to-the-periphery/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">better governance</a>? What worked, what did not?The lessons learnt during the past five years can be a guide for the next crop of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-local-governments-lead-from-the-front/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local leaders</a>. We need to thoroughly review the workings of local governments.If we were to believe the political class and commentators in Kathmandu, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">federalism</a> in five short years has failed Nepal. They argue that federalism has decentralised corruption and sowed the seeds of social division.However, despite some of this being true, most local governments have performed above expectations. According to a recent evaluation, most municipalities scored more than 50 points out of 100 in their report cards.The three local governments that scored above 75 points were all rural municipalities.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101144/63720df69c7e80680e0b78eejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="967" height="649">This assessment has challenged nay-sayers and proved that real federalism is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-politics-is-local/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">working well in the hinterland</a>. The constitutional provision that women should mandatorily be either mayor or deputy in municipalities and the Dalit community should be represented has changed the dynamics of how Nepal is governed.Local governments are ahead of federal and provincial governments in their ability to spend development budgets. While the centre was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/reinstate-remove-repeat/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">embroiled in power struggles</a> that paralysed provincial governments, the municipal and ward levels were quietly carrying out their duties. This has meant that there is not as much disillusionment with democracy and federalism at the grassroots.Perhaps the best example of this is how local governments handled the Covid-19 pandemic. While the federal government was engulfed by international procurement scandals, it was the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/women-leaders-set-example-for-rest-of-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local leadership that stepped in</a> to provide immediate relief.This is not to say the local government were without faults which they cannot just blame on the lack of necessary laws, intervening agencies and the bureaucracy. Many elected officials have also been accused of being self-serving, inefficient and working as party cadres and not as people’s representatives.We have to learn from these mistakes, remove legal and policy ambiguities and make local governments more responsible and capable by emphasising good governance and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/including-the-excluded-in-the-bureaucracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">inclusion</a>.This requires a paradigm shift. The federal government with its centralised mindset, meddling provincial officials and non-cooperation from the bureaucracy must change radically. After that, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/polls-in-the-time-of-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">it is up to the local government</a> to make further reforms.In their first term, local governments focused on laying the foundations for development. Now, it has to look for economic opportunities to create jobs, raise living standards, develop human resources and conserve heritage.The first order of business to achieve this is to increase the capacity and awareness of the people to question elected representatives so that local levels are sufficiently empowered.The local unit of government is not just the cornerstone of federalism, but also a representation of participatory democracy that connects the state with the people.Federalism is also a threat to anti-democratic and regressive forces that want to take Nepal back to past instability. Federalism is not why the country is falling apart, as some would have it, but the cement that binds this diverse nation together.

Nepal’s local election gives power back to people

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/63720a1c9c7e80680e0b5583jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>When we had a baby, just a few weeks ahead of the first lockdown in 2020, my husband and I had to make some difficult decisions about how to manage childcare and work. We wanted to be around our child in his initial years as much as possible, but we were also not ready to give up work.A few things, including the pandemic and the fact that financially we were able to work part-time, permitted us to spend our child’s first year primarily as his caregivers. When I went back to work a year after giving birth, my husband continued to stay home as the primary caregiver. Which made me think, what if everyone had that opportunity?Nepal’s family leave policies are the bare minimum, with men just getting two weeks paid leave and women two months, and an extra 38 days unpaid for every child. Many women risk losing their livelihood and their jobs when they extend their leave.Data shows that 90% of working women are informally employed, which means they do not have formal contracts, to begin with, so their employers are not mandated by law to provide any kind of family leave.As a young mother, I realise the importance of legally mandated family leaves for all parents, not just for white-collar professionals. But what I also realised is that while family leave is beneficial for children, and has advantages for society as a whole, it is uncomfortable for many people who have been raised in traditional families.Issues like family leave may seem contentious in current policy discourse, but to modern women who do a disproportionate amount of housework and childrearing, and also participate in paid employment, it is of utmost importance.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-leaders-seen-but-not-heard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Women leaders seen, but not heard</a>, Shristi KarkiIssues like family leave and<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/leave-no-one-behind-gender-roles,858" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> equal pay</a> are reasons why we need more women in leadership and policy-making roles. Research and real-life situations have shown over and over that the participation of women in legislative bodies improves deliberation and decision-making.This is not a surprise. People of diverse backgrounds are likely to have different life experiences, be affected by different problems, and see the same social issues from unique standpoints.But the participation of women in politics improves decision-making not just regarding women’s issues, but also in matters that affect men and children. Studies have found that women in elected roles also make decisions that reflect the priorities of ethnic/ racial minorities.There is also evidence from India that shows that women politicians invest more in health and education when elected. Women parliamentarians are also known to work more effectively across party lines through women’s caucuses and push through agendas.In May 2020, a video of Jhowa BK, a member of the Karnali Provincial Assembly, speaking about its government’s policies and plans for the next fiscal year, went viral. It was clear from the video that BK is not a seasoned politician or an experienced orator. In the speech itself, she says she is not formally educated.But while there was some mockery of her speech, or of the fact that an illiterate woman was an elected representative, there was widespread appreciation of BK’s heartfelt comments, and of the fact that in our provincial and local governments, we have representatives who are grounded in the realities of the people who voted them to office.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-leaders-unable-to-accept-women-in-power/">"Nepali leaders unable to accept women in power"</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/63720a1f9c7e80680e0b5584jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1051"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Indeed, it is no small feat that we have representatives from diverse backgrounds in federal and provincial parliaments as well as local governments, thanks to the 2015 Constitution and our election laws.Over 40% of the members of the local government assemblies are women. In fact, the Local Governance Operation Act mandates that every body of the local governments have representation from women. But it stops there.The patriarchal biases that we hold, and our male-stream political parties mean that women, especially those from minority groups, are seen as less capable of leadership than men from high caste groups. We can see a snapshot of these biases in the chairs of Nepal’s 753 local governments. Only 18 of them are women.The Local Level Election Act 2017 mandates that each political party must field one man and one woman candidate for the positions of chairperson and deputy chairperson of the local governments. Most political parties, however, fulfilled the requirement put forward by the Local Level Election Act by nominating women for deputy positions.According to the Voices of Women Media’s Women in Leadership infographics booklet, only 7 of 293 municipalities (2.39%) have female Mayors and only 11 of 460 Rural Municipalities have female chairs (also 2.39%).These are positions that there were no quotas for. In fact, despite an electoral system that promotes diversity in legislative bodies, over 40% of mayors/chairs and ward chairs are from dominant caste groups. We also see these biases when we look at the central committee of Nepal’s political parties.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-politics-is-local/">All politics is local</a>, Sahina ShresthaSimilarly, despite quotas ensuring the proportional inclusion to women, ethnic minorities, and other under-represented groups in the bureaucracy and other state bodies, there are lots of nuances behind the numbers.According to the Women in Leadership, women also are underrepresented in the upper ranks of the bureaucracy. Only four Chief District Officers and three District Coordination Officers are women (out of 77).Women are also underrepresented in the decision-making positions of the security forces, in the higher levels of the judiciary (the Supreme Court, High Courts, as well as District Courts), and in non-governmental organisations and the media. It is no surprise then, that our problems and their solutions are seen from the male gaze.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101128/63720a239c7e80680e0b5585jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="449">There are also biases against women leaders within the legislative bodies/local governments, especially those who are elected through the proportional election system. They are seen as token representatives who are elected because of their demographic characteristics, as members who represent special interests because of their gender.They are subjected to discrimination within their workplaces, and their authority on issues that are seen as mainstream, such as the economy and infrastructure are questioned even by their fellow representatives.Because the proportional electoral system is designed to bring people from less advantaged groups into leadership roles, candidates elected through the proportional system are often less educated than their counterparts who come from privileged groups.This makes it difficult for these women to participate confidently in deliberation. Being elected to office is only the beginning of the struggle for many women politicians.To be sure, elected women officials are subjected to differential behaviour based on gender bias not just in Nepal but the world over. Even Angela Merkel, one of the most powerful women today who was Chancellor of Germany from 2005 to 2021 and led the European Union through many of its recent trials, has been undermined by her male counterparts, such as Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump. But Merkel’s leadership has also proved to much of the world that women are just as capable as men.Part of the skepticism of women leaders comes from the fact that we see them as representing only the issues of women, but that is not true. On the other hand, it shows just how biased we are that we have that kind of discourse only in the case of women leaders.No one questions a male politician working only for the welfare of men, because men’s issues, we have been conditioned to think, are our common issues. But the moment you bring up family leave and equal wages, you are a ‘women’s parliamentarian’.Nonetheless, the voice of women must be raised and heard in local, provincial, and federal decision-making. As more women and candidates from minority groups are elected into decision-making bodies, their presence in the governments and their participation in deliberation and decision-making will start feeling more and more normal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/think-nationally-vote-locally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Think nationally, vote locally</a>, EditorialWomen who aspire to start a career in politics or move from the ward levels to the municipal levels, and from the municipal to provincial and federal levels will also see other female politicians as role models, and find mentors in more seasoned women leaders.In fact, BK herself has mentioned in interviews that the encouragement of another female politician finally led her to speak up.At this important moment in Nepal’s history, it is up to us whether or not we decide to have more inclusive governments at the local, provincial, and federal levels. There is no evidence that highly educated, well-spoken parliamentarians make better decisions for people’s welfare.Historically, our heavily male and ‘high-caste’ legislators have not prioritised formulating policies that reduce gender, class, and caste disparities, nor they have been unable to develop frameworks to promote sustainable economic growth, promote the health and education infrastructure, and create functional social security.Having more diverse and representative parliaments and local governments will therefore add dimensions to the deliberations that happen in our legislative bodies, and result in better decision-making.Come May, we will have to decide whether our elected bodies should resemble a little bit more like our society, or whether the same Ram, Shyam, and Hari Uncles continue making decisions for the whole lot of us, even though our problems and priorities are widely variable.This time, ward-level minority leaders might file their candidacy for a municipality chair or deputy. Women and minority leaders who were elected in the last election may file their candidacy as FPTP candidates, or as independent candidates if their parties refuse to give them a ticket.This is our chance to make our local governments look more inclusive and less tokenistic.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/think-nationally-vote-locally/">Power to the periphery</a>, Sonia Awale<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101128/63720a249c7e80680e0b5586jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="89" height="109">Aditi Adhikari is an educator and education policy researcher/consultant based in Kathmandu

Can Nepal elections change its male-stream politics?

Hiding their head in the sand

<img width="1000" height="1336" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204d59c7e80680e0b2883jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>After <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-coalition-dilly-dallying-on-polls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hemming and hawing about holding local elections</a>, top leaders of the five-party alliance that met on Tuesday finally made some headway. 
The good news is that they said they were committed to holding the local polls “on time”. The bad news is that the parties were even thinking of postponing polls to suit their electoral prospects, even though that is entirely the purview of the Election Commission. 
And who knows what they mean by “on time”? Nepali time is elastic.  
The ‘high level political mechanism’ is an uber-government prone to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/political-expediency-trumps-nepal-constitution/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bending the Constitution</a> whichever way it suits them. 
However, on elections, mechanism members are not united. Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba’s Nepali Congress wants to hold local polls as scheduled on 27 April, and this puts him closer to the opposition UML’s stand. 
The JSP also wants the local polls in April, but the Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoist Centre and Madhav Kumar Nepal of the Unified Socialists being from fragments of larger parties, want more time to prepare for elections. And the pandemic has been the perfect pretext to argue for postponing it. 
The other argument they are using is that elections are costly, and why not have all three tiers of elections in November? 
There are differing provisions for local elections in Nepal’s Constitution and election laws. While Article 225 of the Constitution stipulates new local leaders be elected within six months after the terms of the current leaders expire, Nepal’s Local Level Election Act 2017 states that elections be held two months before the terms of the current representatives end. 
Coalition leaders are said to be exploring the possibility of passing an ordinance to amend the local election law so that they can hold local elections when they see fit — which means later in the year.
That provisions for elections are inconsistent, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/political-expediency-trumps-nepal-constitution/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">subject to amendments at </a>the convenience of political leaders, and that the Election Commission is unable to make an independent decision is emblematic of a failing state.
It shows just how <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Analysis/how-decentralised-is-federalism,776" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">centralised Nepal’s power structure is</a>,  and how blatant political interference in Constitutional bodies like the Election Commission has become.  
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/battle-lines-drawn-for-nepal-elections/" style="font-weight: 600;">Battle lines drawn for Nepal elections</a>, Nepali Times
The differing positions within the governing coalition on proposed election dates have further exposed the volatile dynamics within the five-party coalition. 
As it is, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/mcc-row-rocks-nepals-ruling-coalition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">governing coalition is already on thin ice </a>due to differences over the US-supported MCC project, as well as over the Nepali Congress being disinclined to form an electoral alliance with coalition partners. Differences over MCC ratification by Parliament already threatens to split the coalition of which some members are said to be beholden to Chinese pressure.
But there are other more pressing matters. Parliament has not been able to sit and pass pending bills due to the UML not letting it function because of K P Oli’s grudge against Speaker Agni Sapkota over his refusal to expel former party members including Madhav Kumar Nepal.  
The five-year terms of Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-politicians-take-up-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">locally elected representatives</a>, which began on 20 May 2017 are set to end on 19 May. Not holding these elections on time will undermine local governance because wards and municipalities will be left leaderless, delegitimising the country’s still fragile federal system. 
Some of the smaller parties are already campaigning against federalism, and a gridlock in local elections could bolster their argument that the system is too <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">costly</a> and not suitable for Nepal. 
As the highly transmissible<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/3rd-wave-in-2-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Omicron strain</a> spreads across the country and overwhelms Nepal’s limited healthcare infrastructure, Nepal’s villages and rural communities will need steady leadership more than ever. 
The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/vaccines-variants-and-a-third-wave/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">third wave has hit Nepal </a>as the country enters the third year of the pandemic. During that time, power struggles at the top have largely paralysed the federal government’s response to the crisis.
However, at the local level many elected representatives have been leading from the frontlines to help constituents. This newspaper reported about mayors and ward chairs in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/women-leaders-set-example-for-rest-of-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nawalpur</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-local-governments-lead-from-the-front/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Khotang</a> districts driving the sick to hospitals during the second wave. They set up local quarantine and isolation centres, and did not wait for Kathmandu to respond.
One of Nepal’s development success stories in the past 40 years was that local elections have ensured accountability and service delivery. The 2017 local polls were the first in 20 years, and not having elected local leaders cost the country two decades in lost development.
National leaders treating local elections as if it is just another power play will be a misdeed against the Nepali people.
Shristi Karki
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-rudderless-political-leadership/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s rudderless political leadership</a>, Santa Gaha Magar

Shristi Karki

Polls in the time of pandemic

<figure><img width="800" height="423" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/637203099c7e80680e0b27e7jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nep Bahadur Chaudhary and his wife Rupa Chaudhary at their banana plantation.</figcaption></figure>Democracy is expensive and <a style="letter-spacing: 0.01em; font-size: 15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">funding political activities</a> can be costly, which is why some local leaders in western Nepal have taken to fruit farming to fund their campaigns for next year’s elections.They have found that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">farming</a> is a good way to make a living, plough funds into poll campaigning without sullying their reputation with unethical donations, and approach locals.“To do politics, we need money,” admits Nep Bahadur Chaudhary, a former <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/ex-guerrillas-regret-the-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist guerrilla</a>. “That’s why I farm. It does require a lot of hard work, but it also gives us the chance to make money. Direct contact with other farmers and traders also helps our campaigning.”Chaudhary, from Kailali’s Tikapur, is a local leader with his own banana plantation. During the armed conflict, Chaudhary was the Maoist’s seventh division secretary. He and his wife, Rupa Chaudhary, former Constituent Assembly member in 2007, have been managing their banana farming business since 2011.Chaudhary’s 3-hectare plantation is on loanfrom a local secondary school, and makes a profit of about Rs10 million a year. <figure><img width="594" height="545" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/6372030b9c7e80680e0b27e8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Laxmi Acharya, from Kailali’s Godavari municipality, is also from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/tis-the-season-of-conventions-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist Centre</a> party and has been tending his own banana farmfor the past eight years. His farm, spread across 5.5 hectares, brings him yearly profit of Rs200,000.“It is necessary for us politicians to stay connected,” he points out. Since farming involves human resource and generates employment, Acharya believes his occupation actually helps further his political career.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/building-an-information-bridge-for-nepals-farmers/">Building an information bridge for Nepal’s farmers</a>, Naresh Newar Farming is also a cost-effective vocation, as Ganesh Dhakal has discovered. He cultivates dragon fruit in his Bhumiputra Livestock and Agriculture farm in Kailali’s Lamkichuha. Dhakal was also a former Maoist and enlisted into the militia at age 17 during the insurgency. He was a secretary with the Netra Bikram Chand-led faction of the Maoists. Dhakal became interested in dragon fruit because of its high yield in a short span of time. And since he is one of few farmers in this region cultivating the fruit, he has an easy market. Demand for home grown fruits is picking up among consumers. Indian banana <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-less-and-less-able-to-feed-itself/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">imports</a> are being replaced by those cultivated in these politician-run farms. Kailali ranks first, with Kanchanpur second, for banana cultivation in Nepal. Farmers from Kailali and Kanchanpur have also proven that they are hard-working and have entreprenurship. Three banana farmers from Tikapur, Udhami Kalu Himal, Binod Shah, and Ram Bahadur Kunwar from Nepal Agriculture Farm in Kailalihave been awarded the President’s Excellence Award. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-parliamentarians-apple-grove/">A parliamentarian's apple grove</a>, Mukesh Pokharel

Nepal’s politicians take up farming

<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

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b919a9c7e80680e06f0fdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="1280"/><figcaption>Bidi Yolkey Rai mapping the sate of deliberative decision-making in her Palika.</figcaption></figure>Bidi Yolkey Rai, 28, struggles to conduct an online session on the importance of local government committees that deal with Covid-19, the climate impact on agriculture, or road construction. “मलाई सुनि राख्नु भएको छ?” (“Can you hear me?”) She asks from time to time.The internet in this remote part of Rolpa district is erratic, and the faces of local government officials freeze often on her laptop monitor. Her work is to mentor members of local municipalities to better understand problems, plan solutions and implement them through a deliberative decision-making process.After Nepal’s local governments were elected in the 2017 federal elections, many municipal council members were unsure of their responsibilities, mandates, and decision-making roles. Rai’s job is to support them in local governance.Till a month ago, Rai would pack some snacks and a bottle of water in her backpack, put on hiking shoes and be off to visit another distant ward in roadless Rolpa to meet the local representatives. However, as the second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic moved up to the mountains it changed everything.“Why are we not treated equally?”Bidi Yolkey Rai is one of the many local government mentors who had to return home after the pandemic hit the country in late April, and she now conducts her meetings online – bandwidth permitting.She is part of the ‘Coherence’ program that supports elected members of Nepal’s municipalities and wards to strengthen their planning and decision-making capabilities. Politics is all very new in this rugged and isolated district that was the cradle of the Maoist armed struggle in 1996.Rai herself saw the decade-long conflict up close as a child. Almost every day, the insurgents would appear at their home and her parents would have to feed them without asking any questions.One day while on her way to school, she was caught in the crossfire between the guerrillas and the security forces. Witnessing violence up close, she was convinced politics was a dirty game and all about killing people, and she was never going to be a part of it. Nineteen years later, she still cannot walk the path where the skirmish took place.Yet, after the conflict ended in 2006 and her father joined the movement for the inclusion of indigenous rights in the Constitution, Rai began to slowly change her opinion about politics—it could be a vehicle for peaceful societal reform. She respected her father, and it all started making sense to her.“I started thinking maybe politics was not such a bad thing, after all,” Rai recalls. “If all of us are humans, why were we not treated equally?”At an age when her teenage friends were out having fun, Rai found herself taking part in conversations about identity politics. She moved to Kathmandu to go to college, but there she got a rude shock. Her classmates made fun of her for talking about political rights and inclusion. To be accepted by her peers, she had to cut herself off any talk of politics and gossip about fashion and celebrities like her friends.But after volunteering for Teach for Nepal, Rai found her true calling in life, and although the idea of mentoring politicians twice her age was intimidating at first, she has been more than up to the challenge.“Fake speeches and hollow promises”Nara Sunar, 29, is also a mentor with the Coherence program, and had to flee his home village in Humla at age 13 when the Maoists demanded that every household had to contribute one fighter for the revolution. It took him six days to walk to a road head to get a bus to the border, and he worked in India for a few years.At the end of the conflict he landed up in Kathmandu to continue his studies with the help of a child rights organisation. Like Bidi Rai, he was also turned off by politics and thought it was “full of fake speeches and hollow promises” because every time he went back to his village in Humla, the reality struck him that nothing had changed.“My friends who fought the war were behaving exactly like they did before. It was as if politics was all about using us people for the benefit of a few to get to power,” Sunar recalls.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-past-present-and-future-in-a-photo/">Nepal’s past, present and future in a photo</a>, Bhumi Ghimire<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b919c9c7e80680e06f0fejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1943" height="1404"><figcaption>Nara Sunar conversing with the Chair of a Palika in Humla</figcaption></figure>When Indra Nath Mishra, 26, returned to his village after graduating in mechanical engineering from India, schools were closed, there were protests across the Madhes and people roamed around with guns.“Politics for me meant fear, I saw it as something that only brought trouble,” Mishra recalls. It was only after he joined a government college in Kathmandu that was steeped in debate about the new constitution that he began to reconsider his earlier perception about politics. He found the issues raised by the Madhes-based parties agreeable, but not without questions.Chiranjivi Pandey, 29, did not hate politics as such, but his perception of political issues of the day were rather shaped by teashop discussions or newspaper headlines. He believed that politics itself was not bad, it was the politicians that were the problem who were giving politics a bad name.With the promulgation of the new Constitution in 2015 that replaced Nepal’s unitary and centralised state structure with a federal system of governance, the ‘system’ formally changed. The first elections under the federal constitution in 2017 reinstated political representatives at the local levels for the first time after 20 years of being ruled by civil servants appointed by Kathmandu.The new Constitution promised the ‘elimination of all forms of discrimination’ and the formation of ‘an egalitarian society’ based on the principles of proportional inclusion. The Constitution promised hope through the devolution of political decision-making and inclusion.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b919f9c7e80680e06f0ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption>Indra Nath Mishra and Chiranjivi Panday in a Palika in Madhesh.</figcaption></figure>“The youth are free of baggage of the past”Seizing the opportunity, the intergovernmental <a href="https://www.idea.int/">International IDEA</a> in partnership with Nepal’s Ministry of Federal Affairs and UK’s General Administration and Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office (then DFID) designed a program to support the newly-elected local governments.In 2018, it had its first batch of mentors ready to pilot the approach in Humla. However, it was not an easy decision to make because the perception was that federalism was such a complex issue that only ‘experts’ could explain it to local governments.Budhi Karki of International IDEA, who proposed the idea of young mentors recalls: “We were clear that supporting local governments means supporting the federal system, and that would bring devolution. You cannot support change with the same old way of thinking and working. If we had used experts, they would have needed to unlearn what they had been doing with local bodies in the past. With fresh youth, we were free from that baggage, they had a learning attitude and they were ready to work in any place with extreme conditions.”Under the program, the mentors were selected and went through a month-long induction designed to prepare the mentors about the basics of Nepal’s federal system, structure, and processes of local governance, and most importantly, the attitude and approach needed for the new way of support.Since 2018, International IDEA has mobilised almost 50 mentors, some in partnership with Kathmandu University and Nitishala Nepal who have served in 15 local governments in Karnali, Lumbini Provinces, and Province 2.As a mentor Bidi Rai immediately came face to face with the powerful idea of letting local people decide local issues. “When I was younger I used to wonder why Kathmandu made all the decisions about our community without knowing anything about local problems. The elected local leaders I interacted with knew everyone in their village, and this forced them to be more accountable to people,” she says.“Is he really a people’s leader if he rides a horse to meetings?”Chiranjivi Pandey was also struck that decentralisation of government was beginning to allow people to channel their grievances. One day, he heard someone say at a municipality training in Karnali Province: “Is he really a people’s leader if he rides a horse to meetings?” It showed to him that federalism had empowered local people to speak up.“Suddenly, they could stop the representatives they elected anywhere and anytime to vent their problems,” he adds.Contrary to his experience in Karnali, Chiranjivi found less political awareness amongst the people as well as local representatives in Madhes. His colleague Indra Nath Mishra, who has experience working in both the mountains and plains, has an explanation for this.He says, “The mountains have geographical complexities which are not man-made, they are of a topographical nature. The problems in Madhes are man-made. Important leadership positions in local governments are held by old-generation leaders who are still in the Panchayat era. They do politics for their own political or economic gain, they don’t care for us, they don’t fear us.”He adds that the problems do not end there. Many elected representatives, such as ward council members lack a basic understanding of their roles and responsibilities under federalism. They are the ones whose decision-making capacity and accountability have to be enhanced. But the trainings are conducted by so called ‘senior’ (and mostly retired) experts who are rigid in their ways, and lack the empathy to support the devolution process.“We stayed in a few trainings they delivered, and I observed a disrespectful attitude towards the locally elected representatives,” says Pandey. “They think local politicians don’t know anything. The PowerPoint slides provide fragmented information, and they often miss the bigger picture. There is no follow-up, it’s like a one-time job for them. Unfortunately, the government and development partners often go after them.”After attending a few of these trainings in the mountains, mid-hills and Tarai, Pandey is convinced that it is in the Madhes where the capacity building through mentorship is needed the most.He also feels that political parties have deceived the people by their choice of candidates for the reserved posts of historically excluded groups. “Even when more politically aware candidates from these groups were available, the ones chosen are often the silent, pliant individuals who do not question their authority. I wonder if this was a calculated move by the parties,” Pandey adds.As a member of the Dalit community himself, Nara Sunar feels that there is still a long way to go, even within the federal system, towards meaningful inclusion in social and political spaces.“The Dalit and women are there only because of the quota. Even then, a few influential ones have captured the power, and other representatives are silent observers. I have had Dalit representatives come to me asking to come along while presenting their plans in the meeting because they would not be heard if they were alone,” says Sunar, while admitting that it is because of the mandatory quotas that the dynamics of political space is more favourable to change than the social space.“The biggest change is that the minorities are there and they know that they have equal rights and a share of the resources. The question in front of us now is how to support them and make the best use of those resources and it’s not easy,” Sunar adds.Bidi Rai blames the lack of deliberation around the planning process for this anomaly. “There is no proper assessment of problems. The budget distribution, especially for the women and Dalit is considered as a checklist. How does a one-day pickle-making training or a celebration of women’s day serve to change the lives of women?” she asks.“Nothing is apolitical”Born to a privileged family in Kathmandu, Melissa Shrestha, 25, got her education abroad. Staying in Karnali, Melissa learnt the hardships of rural life, the basic day-to-day necessities they struggle to meet that she took for granted.“My parents were  opposed to me joining this program till the last minute, but I wanted to get out of my bubble,” Shrestha says. “I used to post only pretty pictures on Facebook so that they did not force me to return. Coming here helped me examine my privileges and understand the dynamics of governance.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b91a29c7e80680e06f100jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="960"><figcaption>Melissa Shrestha visiting a Palika in Rukum West with her teammate.</figcaption></figure>As a youth, Indra Mishra was always saddened to see the state of his village: the roads would be ‘soil-topped’ only to be swept away by floods every year.“I used to think that development was all about infrastructure. This program made me realise that service delivery and social development are equally important, and so is the process through which we reach the decisions on development priorities. However technical the subject is, if it involves a political process, it is a political decision,” Mishra says, “That’s why nothing is apolitical. Politics is like the universal set of a Venn-diagram, and every other topic are the subsets of it.”Working closely with local representatives, listening to their personal stories of struggle and success, their frustrations and satisfaction have given Mishra and his fellow mentors of the Coherence program an insider look into local politics. They are not just mere observers of the system anymore.It has given them a deeper understanding of the political process, the knowledge of ground realities, and most of all an attitude not to take things at face value. Some are taking the knowledge and perspectives they gained as mentors beyond their jobs to support their own municipalities during the Covid-19 crisis—transforming them to become more responsible and conscious citizens.Despite the gloom and doom of the political paralysis in Kathmandu, the mentorship program brings a glimmer of hope that political decentralisation is the way forward for Nepal. There is also the realisation that a new generation of young Nepalis have the energy and optimism about the future to bring about the changes from the grassroots up.They strive to break the glass ceiling while at the same time diving deep to see things holistically. This is a generation that vows to correct the injustices of the past, and that believes as much in the process as in the final goal.However, these young mentors are also proof that there has been so little investment to channel the energy, motivation and commitment of Nepal’s youths. They are considered nothing but stepping stones by the political parties for their own partisan gain, and they are not trusted enough to participate as the agents of change.Just like many of the Coherence program mentors themselves believed before they joined up, there are many young people in Nepal who abhor politics because they think it is a dirty game, they avoid following the news and blame politicians for everything that is wrong with the country. This program has shown that it is possible to change that, and to engage the youth and turn them into agents of political reform.“If not us, who?”Phanindra Adhikary leads the Coherence program at International IDEA and screens applications for the post of mentors, and admits that it is disheartening to see these youths with big degrees not having the basic knowledge of what is happening in the country.“Maybe this is why a program like this is more relevant than ever,” says Adhikari, who himself was in the last batch of the National Development Service volunteer program in the 1970s after finishing college.“For us at that time, the learning was limited as we were just volunteer teachers. But it was also thrilling and it helped me to widen my worldview,” he says. “What the youth have here is a lot more than that – it is a direct engagement to influence governments at the grassroots.”Indra Mishra, who had thought of running for local elections in 2017 has not ruled out the possibility in the next polls.Being one of only two people with a master’s degree in his village, Nara Sunar is skeptical that people would vote a Dalit as a municipality chair, but he is not giving up yet.Bidi Rai says the program has helped her realise that she has a key role in the process of change. She says, “If not us, who?”Durga Karki herself worked as a local government mentor for International                IDEA and now works for its Coherence program. <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121140/636b91a59c7e80680e06f101jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="88" height="109">

“Everything is political”

<figure><img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd9a19c7e80680e092eb2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>One afternoon last month in Ramaroshan Rural Municipality of Achham district, 45-year-old mother of five, Sarada Bista, was lopping fodder for the family livestock near her home.  Suddenly, she lost her footing, fell off the tree and rolled down the steep slope. When she regained consciousness, she could not move. Her leg was broken, and she had gashes all over her body.  Bista yelled for help, but a neighbour thought there was a ghost in the forest and did not respond. Hours later, rescuers finally arrived and she was taken to the hospital at Bayalpata, a three-hour drive away. There, orthopaedic surgeon Mandeep Pathak got a digital x-ray of her broken left femur,  and operated on the leg to rejoin the shaft bone. She was moved to a ward and when we saw her a few days later, was recovering well. People frequently fall off trees and cliffs in Nepal, mainly women. And there has been a rise in highway accidents with serious trauma patients. Yet, most government hospitals in rural Nepal are not equipped for even the simplest surgeries, or cesarean sections. Sarada Bista was treated for free at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bayalpata Hospital</a> which is run by the non-profit Nyaya Health Nepal. Her family would have not been able to afford to take her to a hospital in the city if the facility had not been there.  The hospital has treated nearly 1 million patients from Achham and six surrounding districts in the past ten years, saved thousands of people with fractures or complicated pregnancies. By offering free treatment it has also prevented many families from certain destitution.  “This is an example of what health care in Nepal should be,” says the mayor of Sanfebagar Rural Municipality Kul Bahadur Kunwar, who himself had surgery at the hospital when he broke his arm four years ago. “We have to keep it going through our own budget, and implement an insurance scheme that will make it sustainable.” In the past three years after Nepal’s first elections to three tiers of government under the new Constitution, there has been much cynicism about federalism. Indeed, there are municipalities where corrupt contractors got elected as mayors, some became chief ministers and could not care less about the welfare of their constituents because of factional infighting within their party. <img width="594" height="527" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd9a49c7e80680e092eb3jpeg.jpg" alt="">However, there are places like Sanfebagar where elected local leaders are familiar with local needs and challenges, and feel accountable to inhabitants. These municipalities do not make it to the news because there are no major scandals, health and education have improved, and despite the pandemic development is happening.  In Dhangadi, the Chief Minister of Far-Western Province Trilochan Bhatta has not let the split in the NCP affect his effort to ensure affordable and accessible health care to a region, long neglected by Kathmandu.  “It is our responsibility now, and we understand our own region better than anyone else from outside,” Bhatta said. The people of Far-Western Province seem to have noticed this new engagement of their leaders in the past three years. The results of a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-state-of-disillusionment/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">nationwide public opinion survey</a> conducted by Sharecast Initiative Nepal show that although most Nepalis are disillusioned with Kathmandu, most are happy with the devolution of political power and resources to local councils.  Asked if they are satisfied with the performance of the local municipality or ward, half the respondents in Far-Western Province said ‘yes’. In response to a question about which tier of government was performing best, 63% said it was the local municpality. Only 17% thought the federal government was doing its job well. In Bayalpata and dozens of hospitals across the country, there is proof that elected local leaders are using political devolution to deliver development and provide services.

Devolution for development

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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