<figure><img width="1918" height="973" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cb39c7e80680e0af373jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Shri Mananka, circa 5th Century AD. The obverse shows a lion while the reverse a seated goddess. Photo: OLDCOINSTAMPNOTE</figcaption></figure>On the walkway leading to the Pashupatinath Temple, vendors sit on cold stone slabs with stacks of glittering red and yellow coins before them. Some devotees stop by to buy bunches of the Re1 or Rs 2 coins for a little more than their value to offer to the gods inside.The transaction happens quickly. One side produces paper cash and the other hands over the metal coins in exchange. Chances are, some of the coins will find their way back to the vendors again, to be ‘recycled’.With lower currency denominations nearly worthless, one of the few places in Nepal where coins are still used are temples like Pashupatinath. These days, one does not pay in coins but for coins — the medium of exchange has become the object of trade itself.Bibash Shrestha, a shopkeeper in Kirtipur, cannot recall the last time he handled a coin in his store. “There is rarely any loose change to return,” he remarks. “Before we used to give out candies to make up for the difference, now even they are worth more than Re1 or Rs2.”Coins are still integral in Hindu and Buddhist puja, marriages and other rituals. During the Hindu chaurasi puja, for instance, bundles of gold coins are handed out to attendees at the end. And when building a house, coins need to be ceremonially placed on the foundation.But coins bear clues to Nepal’s historical and economic past, and carry great anthropological significance. Govinda Neupane, a student of archaeology, remarks that in the digital world of today, coins are the new kinds of intangible heritage.He says: “Coins are the witnesses that justify our history, they have archaeological and historical value. They provide a window to understanding our past and present, and function as markers to specific historical periods.”Indeed, letters and markings on coins inform us about the king or queen at the time of their minting. The alloys of copper, silver or gold used tell us about the state of the economy of that time and place. The figures on the coin reveal the religious beliefs and influences of the period. <figure><img width="1600" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cb69c7e80680e0af374jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As for metal coins, the oldest excavated in Nepal are punch-marked ones from the 5th century BCE from Kapilvastu in Lumbini. Currently in display at the <a href="https://numismaticsmuseum.gov.np">National Numismatics Museum</a> in Chhauni, there coins are originally from what is now India and have various symbols ‘punched’ on them. These coins prove that trade had moved beyond the barter system in the region.Historian Satyamohan Joshi writes in his book नेपाली राष्ट्रिय मुद्रा (National Currencies of Nepal) that coinage in Nepal can be divided into three eras starting in the 5th century AD during the Lichhavi, Malla and Shah dynasties in the Valley.The earliest coins found in Kathmandu was issued by the first Lichhavi king, Mandev (pictured above). Minted during his reign from 464AD to 505AD, the obverse has a lion with its paw raised and ‘Sri Mananka’ written above it, while the reverse shows a figure of a goddess seated on lotus with ‘Bhogini’ inscribed on it. The script used is Brahmi, the forerunner of almost all writing systems found in South Asia. The current writing system of Nepal, the Devnagari, is a descendant of Brahmi.The figure of the goddess recalls influence of the ancient Indo-Greek kingdom from the 1st century BCE. All Lichhavi coins are made of copper and have on them the king’s name, the figure of a god or goddess, with flowers, vajra, trisul, kalas, the sun, the moon, or animals such as the bull, lion, cow and elephant. There is consistency in their shapes and sizes, and are handmade, but there is no date inscribed on them.Lichhav kings Gunakamdev and Anshuvarma have similar coins to their predecessors, while coins issued by King Jisnugupta (635 - ?) show a bull on one side, and a vajra or a trisul on the reverse. Satyamohan Joshi takes this as proof of the king’s devotion to both Shiva and the Buddha.Suman Basnet, an avid collector of Nepali coins for the past 20 years, says that in addition to the metal used, the different symbols and depictions are in themselves records of history and the attitudes of people.“These coins are concrete evidence of how people lived in those specific times and places,” he says. “I wanted to delve deep into our history through something concrete and ubiquitous as coins. These coins could have been handled by farmers, merchants, kings, men women and children in the past.”Indeed, the pre-Lichhavi period and the 800 years between Lichhavi and Malla rule in Kathmandu’s history are less well-known largely because there are no coins from those eras. After the Lichhavi period, the oldest coins and Nepal’s first ever silver ones, were issued by King Indra Dev of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/heritage-conservation-outside-kathmandu,3487">Dolakha</a> in 1545AD.Then in 1566 King Mahendra Malla, who built Kathmandu’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-nepali-antiquities-got-to-chicago-museum/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Taleju Temple</a> two years previously, issued silver coins in the Valley. Various historical sources mention that he presented a swan and a hawk to the Mughal Emperor Akbar in Delhi (some say it was Humayun) who in turn granted Mahendra Malla permission to mint silver coins of 6 masa (~5.8 grams) in his name. These coins are also known as Mahendra malli and according to historian Balchandra Sharma, the practice of calling silver coins Mohar began with them.While both the Lichhavi and the Malla coins show cross-cultural influences — Indo-Greek, Mughal and Tibetan, among others, for example — the medieval designs of Malla coins are much more elaborate, with tantric and Vajrayani motifs, and do not depict figures of deities. The coins themselves are either square or circular. Even animals (other than the lion) are absent, and more importantly, the name of the ruler with the year is inscribed legibly, written in Ranjana, Persian or Arabic alphabets. <img width="2059" height="2053" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cb99c7e80680e0af375jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1280" height="1280" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cbd9c7e80680e0af376jpeg.jpg" alt="">Mohar from Pratap Malla's reign. Photo: HERITAGE AUCTIONSSeveral stamped clay and leather 'tokens' with illegible writings on them have been discovered from these times as well, but not enough research has been done regarding their purpose and use as media of exchange, and historians are cautious to call them 'coins' literally. In fact, while coins have been metallic historically, some of the earliest-known tokens of exchange were kaudis, essentially small shells used as circulation currency in Ancient India before metallurgy became widespread. Malla coins contain a confluence of Hindu and Buddhist symbols. Geometry is prominent and each coin is decorated with various artifacts (kalas, vajra, trisul, clubs and astamangal) in triangles, squares, hexagons and octagons. The symbols and letters represented the kings’ names, their queens and family members. They also etched on the metal their interests, their lofty aspirations, with their various epithets. Satyamohan Joshi writes that these aesthetic choices were intended to attract the public’s imagination and devotion towards the rulers and their families. The smallest silver coin in the world is in fact a Malla coin — called Jawa in Newari, or Fukkadam — minted during the reign of Jaya Prakash Malla, the last king of Kathmandu, and weighing 0.004 grams. <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cc19c7e80680e0af377jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Malla period ended with Prithvi Narayan Shah’s annexation of the three kingdoms of the Valley. Historian Dinesh Raj Panta says that before Prithvi Narayan, there is hardly any concrete evidence of Shah coins. But after his conquest of the Valley, unified Nepal’s first king began to issue silver mohar in his own name.The first one with Prithvi Narayan Shah’s name inscribed on it had a trisul on the obverse surrounded by ‘Sri Sri Prithvi Narayan Shahdev’ written within gaps made by a swastik on a square. The sun and the moon sat on each top corner and at the bottom was inscribed the date in the Saka calendar: 1692 (1770AD).On the reverse is a wheel at the centre divided in three sections, on which is written ‘Sri Sri Bhawani’. There is a khadga at the centre of this wheel decorated by dots in a bell-like arrangement. Around the edge are letters श्री, श्री, श्री, गो, र, ष, ना and थ (‘Sri Sri Sri Gorakhnath) after the patron deity of the Shah dynasty. <figure><img width="1500" height="745" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cc49c7e80680e0af378jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Shah coinage also saw rise in the use of gold, which had begun sporadically in the medieval period. Despite the rare metal, each Shah king or queen has issued at least a couple Nisar gold coins (named after the commemorative medallions the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan issued at his court in the 17th century) in their name, although for special occasions only.As Nepal had no silver mines, the metal had to be imported from Tibet. As per the 1556 treaty Mahendra Malla signed with Tibet, the coins minted in Nepal would be used there as well, allowing Kathmandu Valley’s trade, art and culture to spread and flourish.The full value of Nepali coins in Tibet was set at a single denomination of 15 karma. But when people needed smaller denominations, the coin could be cut into two-third, half and one-third along its petalled design. These were called chotang in Tibet, meaning ‘cut Mohar’ and a few examples dating to the times of Jaya Prakash Malla and Pratap Singh Shah can be found at the National Numismatic Museum. <img width="1125" height="705" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cc79c7e80680e0af379jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1125" height="651" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cca9c7e80680e0af37ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figure><img width="4032" height="3024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1ccd9c7e80680e0af37bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Jaya Prakash Malla had hoped to alleviate the crisis brought by Prithvi Narayan’s blockade of the Valley by minting low quality coins mixed with copper to export to Tibet. When the Shah king wanted to revert to using pure silver coins, the Tibetans asked to have all the older coins replaced as well. The war of annexation had just ended and this would have added further financial burden to the new ruler. The dispute went unresolved, which was in turn inherited by Prithvi Narayan's descendants after his death. Tibet by then had begun to send low quality rock salt to Nepal in retaliation.The Nepali delegation sent to Tibet to resolve these trade issues was rejected, giving the Gorkhali kingdom a pretext to raid rich monasteries north of the border, and in 1788 to invade Tibet itself.The first invasion ended with Gorkhali victory, and Tibet agreed to pay war reparations to Kathmandu and a further Rs50,001 in annual tribute. But after the first year, Tibet stopped paying it and the war continued.During the second invasion, China’s Qing emperor came to the aid of Tibet and chased the Gorkhali forces back over the mountains as far south as Nuwakot, only 30km northwest of Kathmandu. The Sino-Nepal war ended in 1792 with Gorkhali defeat. A treaty was signed at Bhetrawati near Nuwakot Palace, and Nepal started paying a tribute to China in 1792, 1794, 1795, 1823, 1842 and 1865.Following the war, Nepal was no longer able to export its coins to Tibet. A mint was established in Lhasa to supply coins to Tibet which affected the amount of silver coming to Nepal and its economy. The Gorkhalis were also waging a costly war against the East India Company in newly-conquered areas of Garhwal and Kumaon.After <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/beginning-of-the-end-of-the-gorkha-empire/">the Anglo-Gorkha war</a>, rulers in Kathmandu tried to compensate for the shortage of silver coins by prohibiting the import of British coins and turning the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-Pashmina-War,1024">East India Company</a> coins into Nepali ones, but even then the supply was not enough.In fact, ‘Company’ coins because so valuable that some elderly women in remote parts of Nepal can still be found wearing garlands made of East India Company silver coins. <figure><img width="1200" height="1002" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cd09c7e80680e0af37cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Later in early 19th century, the second Rana prime minister, Ranoddip Singh brought water-powered machines to help artists and craftsmen mint consistent-looking coins more efficiently.  These machines would flatten the metal and etch designs on both sides.Ranoddip’s nephew and successor Bhim Shamsher then brought coal-powered machines to mint coins. This gift of industrialisation would mint around 12,000 alloy coins daily in Dharara Taksar in Kathmandu. Today, the mint has shifted to Babermahal and only makes commemorative coins.The designs of Shah coins have been more or less the same since 1770, with similar symbols and motifs. However, when democracy was established, silver-alloy coins were issued that showed King Tribhuvan wearing a Dhaka topi as opposed to a crown against a five-pointed star. <figure><img width="1200" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cd39c7e80680e0af37djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>‘This design, in light of the end of the Rana rule, was meant to signify that the king was no different from a commoner,’ Satyamohan Joshi explains in his book. Tribhuvan’s successors Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra were similarly depicted.When monarchy was formally abolished by the Constituent Assembly in 2008, the figures of the kings were replaced by the डाँफे (Impeyan pheasant) and the cow. Only Re1 and Rs2 were in circulation, and even those are now falling out of use.“In the digital age where all our transactions are invisible in the internet, it is important that focus be given to the cultural, religious, social and political significance of coins,” says Suman Basnet.He compares this changing attitude towards physical money and especially coins to postage stamps: “Perhaps this is what progress looks like, but as we move to a cash-less society, there is a possibility that we lose connection with our heritage and our past. This calls attention to the fact that it is important now more than ever that we retain and remember our history.”The Nepal Numismatic Society holds meetings regularly in Thapathali, and there are more and more younger attendees, meaning that coin-collecting is still popular. “Traditionally, it had been the elderly and the tourists who collected coins,” says Basnet. “But there are a few young people who show great promise.”Says Govinda Neupane: “Coins bring several different avenues of our society together. We can study economics, language, history through coins, and we should preserve them for our future generations to look back and develop their own analyses and understanding.”

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Losing loose change in Nepal

We often see ourselves reflected in the other. For someone who grew up in Kathmandu Valley in the eighties and nineties, this maxim comes alive with an even greater force. Nepal’s media ecosystem was dismal, the school curriculum was narrow and did not provide opportunities for creative expression. Perhaps that is why I became obsessed with MTV videos and Bollywood films. I saw my developing self reflected in these story-lines and razzmatazz. When the media and education system do not engage the public and reflect myriad interests, aspirations and lifestyles of the population, citizens get detached and disconnected from their roots. I left for America for further studies, and was somewhat determined to never return to Nepal. It was a country full of potholes and black-outs. But foreigners have been fascinated with our country for decades. In the early 19th century, Francis Buchanan-Hamilton led a pioneering expedition and documented more than a thousand species of plants native to the region. Almost a century later, in 1905, Frenchman Sylvan Levi published ‘the first attempt to produce a comprehensive study of Nepal’, drawing on not just indigenous but available Chinese and European sources as well. After Nepal opened up in the 1950s, different kinds of foreigners have traveled here -- most notably, cold-war era spies disguised as diplomats, and later came the hippies. I returned to Nepal in 2013 and was primarily struck by two major demographics - the artists and the expats. Energised by the recent revolution, the creatives were making vibrant, powerful works. The expats, on the other hand, demonstrated a different way to navigate life in Kathmandu Valley. These two groups of people re-introduced Nepal to me and I began seeing my country and my hometown with a renewed perspective. Which is why one particular image from Giovanna Caruso’s ongoing show at the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank">Kalā</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank"> Salon</a> curated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/facades-and-flowers-from-nepal-to-italy" target="_blank">Sophia L Pandé</a> instantly caught my attention -- rather, it called out to me, as if it was composed for me, framing a key moment from my own life. Its title is, coincidentally, 2013. Like most of her other works, the pen-and-ink drawing is punctuated by an explosion of watercolour: a woman standing confidently in front of a Newa-style house, a leg arched up, as if she is fixing a strap around an ankle before stepping out on an adventure. The watercolour depicts a rainbow streaming out of a pot through a second-floor window. The rest of the details are rendered in realism – clusters of garlic and onion hanging to dry from the rafters, and further down a stack of corn. There are towels drying, even an old water pump.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="art review Kala Salon"> </figure>  When I walked over to this artwork with Caruso, she chuckled, “Ah, this work is a celebration of my 30 years in Nepal.” It was while trying to calm a restless group of students during her teaching days in Italy that Caruso first came across an iconic image of Kathmandu Darbar Square. She had found an old box of slides and while projecting images from the Himalaya to engage her students, the artist was determined to travel to Nepal. The first flat she rented was close to the square and the view from her rooftop was the same as the one she had encountered inside her classroom. She has been traveling to Nepal every year since. Some of her favourite drawings depict Khokana in morning fog. From 1993-2006, she drew murals at Ram Mandir and Pashupatinath, asking sadhus to guide her and correct her depictions. Caruso received a classical education, which means she was trained to focus on perspective and geometry while capturing mainly portraits and still lives. She is influenced by M C Escher and his explorations of mathematics and symmetry. No wonder she finds the Darbar Square architecture so compelling. She also names as inspiration Gustave Dore, whose style is different from Escher’s and I can see how she has fused these influences in her body of work: Escher’s austerity complimented and slightly dislodged by Dore’s comics and caricatures. “Before starting, the painting needs to be complete in my mind,” she explains as we pass a series of portraits titled Saraswati, Lakshmi, Kali Dancing, and Durga dominated by a roaring tiger. “These are all real people, I ask my friends and family members to sit for me.” The Kali in the drawing has the artist’s fiery copper red hair and she is dancing, surrounded by various men with flowing hair. The artist seems to have experimented here, drawing the revelers from above, and indulging in playful abandon. Depictions of Nepal are often in danger of being exoticised. But Caruso is familiar with her subjects, knows our alleys and temples intimately. Her colours and compositions are passionate and dense. In an essay, Anirudh S Chari writes the artist’s work is splashed with rapturous energy and most drawings have a carnivalesque element. ‘Kali Dancing’ illustrates this idea perfectly in that she has turned Kali’s usual fearsome portrayal on its head by depicting and embracing another feminine principle - the capacity to celebrate and create joy. Apart from drawing inspiration from Hindu goddesses and Nepal’s multi-colored rituals, Caruso has also drawn the Sumerian Ianna and Lillith and the Egyptian Nut. She enjoys drawing Nataraja, and says it is because “Shiva is a good husband”. We stand another painting titled 100 Days a Lion. “There is a saying in Italian, Better one day as a lion than a hundred days as a sheep, but I thought why not 100 Days a Lion?” This sentiment captures this nomadic artist’s spirit spanning four decades, in which she has captured urban energy as well as the sacred imagery of ‘life diaries on canvas’. From Venezia to Kathmandu and Journeys In Between Giovanna Caruso The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre Mall, Thamel Till 12 December 10am- 8pm

Looking at Nepal from Venice

The COP30 climate summit in Brazil ended this week <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cop30-to-cop31">without tangible commitment</a> from countries to reduce fossil fuel emissions. Its impact will be felt halfway around the planet here in Mustang which is already seeing weather extremes.&nbsp; Geographically, Mustang is on the Tibetan Plateau, north of the main Himalayan chain. It is in the rainshadow, and a high altitude desert. Winter snow has failed for eight of the past ten years, unseasonal blizzards, and frequent glacial collapse leading to floods. The Kali Gandaki Corridor follows one of the deepest gorges in the world between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, the world’s seventh and tenth highest peaks. Lush pine forests cover the southern flanks of these mountains, but within a few kilometers the vegetation undergoes a dramatic change to a landscape of red, brown and grey cliffs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It gets more arid the more north you go. Snow and rain in Upper Mustang used to fall mostly in winter, but now there are cloudbursts and blizzards at other times of the year.&nbsp; In the ancient walled city of Lo Manthang, elderly men have gathered at a local tea shop to drink the salted butter tea. Some sip home-made liquor infused with medicinal herbs.&nbsp; The sun has set, the temperature plummets, and the wind howls outside. Everyone agrees it does not snow like it used to any more. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Comings and goings in Mustang</a>, Shrijan Pandey  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The flat mud roofs are leaking because rain is now falling where there used to be snow.</figcaption> </figure>  “The weather has changed drastically over the years,” says Lopsang Tsomfel Bista, Chair of the Lo Dekhar Municipality. “It doesn’t snow in winter, and it falls when it is not supposed to.”&nbsp; Lack of snow means that in spring, the pastures where nomadic herders graze their yaks and goats do not have enough grass. Previously, winter snow on the meadows would seep slowly into the soil with the spring thaw, bringing out fresh grass shoots. &nbsp; In recent years, even if there is winter precipitation, it falls as rain. The soil is not able to soak in rain as efficiently, and torrential downpours increase the risk of soil erosion and floods.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  “There used to be up to 1,500 mountain goats in every village, but now they have stopped keeping livestock,” says Bista. This is due to lack of grass and new lowland diseases moving up the mountains. Mustang has lost 28% of its population between the census in 2011 and 2021, and outmigration also means there are fewer people left to carry on a pastoral lifestyle.&nbsp; “Herders have asked for vet services in their communities because there are new insect-borne diseases,” says Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Winds of change sweep Mustang</a>, Jagannath Adhikari  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The mud walls of monasteries and homes are crumbling because of unseasonal rainfall. </figcaption> </figure>  Mustang is flanked to the east and west by mountains that rise up to 6,000m, and glaciers on their slopes are melting fast, turning into lakes. With the rising temperature, the risk of Glacier Lakes Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has also risen.&nbsp; At the rate global average temperatures are rising, scientists say that the Himalaya will lose up to two-thirds of the remaining ice caps. When glaciers melt, it not just raises the risk from GLOFs but also affects water supply downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1022" height="767" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map NT"> </figure>  FLOODS Ringzin Sangbo Gurung in Chumjung village recalls the devastation caused by a GLOF on 8 July this year that swept away a newly inaugurated bridge. The floodplain is now strewn with boulders and sand brought down by the flood which caused damage worth Rs28 million. The flood also damaged the irrigation canals that feed riverside farms where locals grew potato, buckwheat, millet and spinach. Nyima Wangmo Gurung runs a homestay in Nyamdok village, and says: “We don’t have water when we need it. And there is too much when we don’t need it.”&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  With warming temperatures, farmers in Mustang are growing lowland vegetables which was not possible before in plastic greenhouses. The farms depended on snowmelt in spring to irrigate their fields, but there is less snow to melt in past years. “The last heavy snowfall in winter was about eight years ago, since then we have got little or no snow,” says Tashi Norbu Gurung, Chair of Lo Manthang Rural Municipality. “This affects farmers during the April planting season.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It is not just lack of snowfall that is a problem. Springs have gone dry, and some villages like Dhey have been forced to relocate because life became &nbsp;impossible without water.&nbsp; Villagers of Samjung also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-migration-is-already-happening">migrated</a> to Namashung, near a river when water sources dried up. But now the new settlements are threatened by GLOFs. Karma Gurung, who runs a lodge in Choser, remembers the big flood of 35 years ago which swept away farms and covered them with debris. There have been more frequent, but destructive floods since then in Kagbeni, Lubra and other valleys. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  MUD WALLS Because snowfall has been replaced by rain, Mustang’s traditional mud-wall architecture is now in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">danger of collapsing</a>. The homes here are closely packed, have flat roofs stacked with juniper branches for firewood. With rain in place of snow, the roofs now leak.&nbsp; Women in Thinkar village say their walls are falling apart. Some homes have collapsed, and families forced to move out. Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation says locals need plastic sheets, cement walls and corrugated roofs to cope with the rain.&nbsp; But this would mean that Mustang’s villages would lose their traditional architecture style.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The ancient 1.5m thick mud walls around Lo Manthang built 600 years ago, the king’s palace, and monasteries are also at risk. “Changes in precipitation patterns, altering the intensity, frequency, and timing of rainfall and snowfall, have damaged traditional and cultural infrastructure, particularly mud-built private and public buildings as well as religious and heritage sites,” explains Bhawani Pandey at the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. “With the rain, and because the monuments and stupas are made from mud, they have eroded. There is leakage, and the monuments are in a dilapidated condition.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure/" target="_blank">Climate-smarter Himalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The Lo Manthang Rural Municipality along with Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, are working on a Local Adaptation Plan of Action and the Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan, which the Nepal government has made mandatory for every municipality. “We took a bottom-up approach and collected data from each village, they know best the impact of climate change and what their needs are,” says Yangchen Gurung. To address the hazards of climate change, local communities and municipalities are adapting through their own resources, without waiting for outside help to improve water conservation, control soil erosion and protect from flood.&nbsp; Says Pandey, “We are returning to conserving traditional drought-resistant crop varieties, organic pest and disease control, cultivating high-value crops and fruits, and practicing sustainable pasture management through rotational grazing. We have also developed new building codes for homes that incorporate water-resistant coating for mud roofs and walls.” &nbsp; Additional Reporting by Tashi Wangyal. &nbsp;

Too little snow, too much rain

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

A new normal

It is quite a feat for just two actors on a darkened stage to hold an audience spellbound for more than one hour. Yet, ‘के? Us.’ at Kausi Theatre does just that. It is a thought-provoking but baffling work that leaves the audience questioning reality, the recurring metaphors in this intriguing and powerful dark comedy haunting us for days afterwards.&nbsp; The unsettling sound of deep breathing mingles with percussive drumming and a driving guitar that pulsates amidst a red glow, dimly illuminating shadowy structures charred by fire. A door leads to what is later revealed to be the ancestral home of two brothers which is ‘under renovation’. One of the brothers Ashim (Bijaya Tamrakar) lives in Nepal caring for a supposedly comatose mother who is only depicted by a tree draped with red LED lights that circulate arterial blood corpuscles. Visiting him is a long-lost brother Aaryan (Eelum Dixit) who has returned (deported?) from America.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The stage is littered with scattered paper trash, a run-down motorcycle chassis, a tattered sofa, and beat-up table and chairs. The stage is set for a sinister plot. Are the characters to be punished in perdition?&nbsp; It does not take long for the audience to grasp that this is an apocalyptic Nepal that, following absurdist traditions, could exist at any time in the future or the present day <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">post-GenZ protest state</a>. Ashim and Aaryan Adhikari have reunited after 15 years. Ashim, the younger brother, has been burdened with the responsibility of taking care of their brain-dead mother. Aaryan, returns after having migrated to the US, where he married, had children, divorced, and lost everything. He has been at “minus 20 and is now back to zero”.&nbsp; The brothers have intense back-and-forths that expose their cynicism, the conversation tangentially alluding to Nepal’s unstable political landscape, migration, an economy in shambles, aging population, alcoholism and other mental health issues. Even the sibling argument about the relative merits of momos and burgers seems metaphorical. The stagecraft uses lighting and sound effects brilliantly, transporting the audience to a surreal world in which Tamrakar and Dixit improvise their lines — no two shows are exactly the same, although the overall plotline has continuity.&nbsp; In the first scene, Aaryan approaches the house tentatively, creeping rodent-like, and carrying a briefcase and an old-fashioned lantern. And at the end, Ashim screams, “I am chaos.” Is this the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end?&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Choas play review"> </figure>  At one point Aaryan seems perturbed by the sound of protest outside (the Gen Z movement?) and the taut atmosphere grips the audience with fear, shock, and apprehension of the recent death and destruction.&nbsp; Throughout the play there is the sound of breathing, as if through a ventilator, a thumping heartbeat, the morbid buzzing of flies and the glowing red LED veins -- signifying the presence of the comatose Aama. She is featured in a prologue-esque home video at the start of the play in which she reminisces about her two sons and rues her failing memory.&nbsp; The sound of breathing gets accentuated each time a brother gets closer to the tree, and it seems to fuel Ashim’s belief that Aama may be brain-dead but she is still among them. This play can go as deep as each individual in the audience wants it to go.&nbsp; The silenced, comatose mother could be Nepali Aama muted by an entrenched patriarchy. Or, she could be the symbol of a helpless country while her children fight over the ruins of what is left. The cake cutting is a delightfully Shakespearean subplot where we wonder if one of the brothers is going to poison, or knife, the other. The message is clear: how can we move forward if it is brother against brother? The stairs signify political transition (elections, constitutional change, new coalitions) promising upward movement, but eventually lead to falls, leaving the nation exactly where it started, or worse. The mother’s terminal illness evokes an ailing state apparatus, hollowed out by corruption and deep-seated social decay. Yet the brothers cling to an irrational hope — instead of confronting the harsh truth and pursuing radical solutions, suggesting a blind faith in the mother.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The brothers are lost. Aaryan climbs up stairs that lead nowhere, Ashim holds on to unrealistic hope that somehow Aama will get better. Tamrakar and Dixit deliver powerful performances, even more remarkable for the fact that they are improvising their lines as they go along. When Aaryan breaks a wall and directly addresses the audience, spectators turn from being passive observers to active participants (‘the society’). The audience then become oglers in this drama, suddenly made self-aware of our role as the scrutinising, cavilling voyeurs that society represents. There is some discomfort of being watched and judged.&nbsp; By asking his brother what he is afraid of while pointing at the audience, Aaryan suggests that the brother's (and perhaps the character's core) fear is not just of the house, or the mother's illness, but of external judgment and societal censure. After the stage goes dark, the applause takes some time. Audience members shuffle out in silence, minds reeling from the collective soul-searching they have just participated in.&nbsp; After ‘के? Us.’ the din at Teku intersection outside sounds different as we wait for our Pathao ride below the खरी tree where <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Shukra+Raj+Shastri&amp;client=safari&amp;sca_esv=75e8315709cd5118&amp;rls=en&amp;sxsrf=AE3TifMJhwukjdBBT0n4QcQWe8IYSaEVsw%3A1764648053799&amp;ei=dWQuaYbIMOy94-EPn4ygyAE&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiU1ciogp6RAxXq3TQHHeo9LBIQgK4QegQIARAB&amp;uact=5&amp;oq=nepal+tree+where+martyrs+were+hanged&amp;gs_lp=Egxnd3Mtd2l6LXNlcnAiJG5lcGFsIHRyZWUgd2hlcmUgbWFydHlycyB3ZXJlIGhhbmdlZDIIECEYoAEYwwRIug5QAFiNC3AAeAGQAQCYAc4BoAHrCKoBBTAuNS4xuAEDyAEA-AEBmAIDoALlBMICBRAAGO8FmAMA4gMFEgExIECSBwUwLjEuMqAHzw-yBwUwLjEuMrgH5QTCBwcwLjIuMC4xyAcM&amp;sclient=gws-wiz-serp&amp;mstk=AUtExfCLIneLVW3SFBzxBc964wFcTJ936tcAPSDcvNKljck0PIqDJddMZ_t8Pg610M98MCx14aNdnyLHs9QM0jWLhI7JYmkPhugX1ZHfSQvdCHZE9E5m2_ZQY5Jr893UcGjQfpabtA_C48NfB9Pg56uYMOmTtEBEcGuvz3d96Qaifyb86sI8mAkrRNo_367cv_xmFjLZ55iQkfHtORuOvZSUkIdMvAdpweuf4jPjjI4anbv9lc-uCImdP0JSvtvEGL8ePxwsWWOzYpIbjNP1zofjcWXK&amp;csui=3" target="_blank">Shukra Raj Shastri</a> was hanged in 1941 by the Rana regime. Language and Literature Students, 2026.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  ‘के? Us.’ Kausi Theatre, Teku Till 7 December (except 2 December) Bookings: +977 9842156109, 9842574607

mananka

Losing loose change in Nepal

Looking at Nepal from Venice

Too little snow, too much rain

A new normal

Staged chaos evokes state of Nepal