Nineteen years after the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/13-february">end of the Maoist conflict</a>, the former enemies have finally come together to push through the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/disappearance-of-justice">Enforced Disappearances</a> Inquiry, Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act of 2014.&nbsp;
This is the culmination of a two-decade long peace process that finally allowed the Maoists and the leaders they were trying to overthrow to agree on truth, justice and reparations for war crimes their forces were both involved in. Yet, there are still some contentious provisions in the bill and serious doubts persist about its honest implementation.
That Maoist supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) and Sher Bahadur Deuba of the Nepali Congress stood side by side to receive the report of a special committee last week was hugely symbolic — not just because till 2006 they were trying to kill each other, but also because they have both been prime minister multiple times since then. And time is supposed to heal.
The UML was less of a target during the conflict, and it fell upon Prime Minister K P Oli to steer this consensus. On Wednesday in Parliament, he hailed Nepal’s peace process as “a model of transitional justice for the world”. We don't know about that yet.
Western liberal democracies and the United Nations that had in the past been pushing Nepal hard on transitional justice with prosecution for war crimes <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-transitional-justice-and-the-west-s-recalibration">have also been more muted about it</a>. US Ambassador to Nepal, the EU Ambassador and the UN Resident Coordinator all posted on social media welcoming the bill despite the inadequacies cited by victims’ groups.
Civil society activists are not convinced the bill will fully address truth and justice issues. They find the definition and classification of wartime excesses still vague and designed deliberately to reduce punishment and prosecution.&nbsp;
‘Any amendment to institutionalise impunity in the name of party consensus is unacceptable,’ said the Accountability Watch Committee in a statement earlier this week. Some conflict victims have also said the bill interferes with the right of the court to define, classify and determine serious violations of human rights.
The bill was relatively easy to push through because the Maoist party is considerably weaker, and is now in the opposition. And once the three leaders of the Maoists, NC and UML agreed, they got victims’ groups affiliated to their parties to sign up. Even though some victims feel the punishment for war crimes is watered down, after 18 years they want to move on.&nbsp;
Last year, former Minister for Law and Constitutional <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">Affairs Govinda Bandi (Govindaprasad Sharma Koirala) in the Maoist government tried to fast-track this bill</a> with provisions that made a distinction between ‘political murder’ and ‘wartime killing’, and even classified torture into ‘humane’ and ‘inhumane’. It also did not give the right for appeal on a special court verdict.
Bandi’s bill was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-tj-bill-protects-perpetrators-shortchanges-survivors">met with a public outcry</a>, and a cross-party working group was set up to come up with a new draft defining serious violations of human rights, unresolved cases of reparations, and compensation for security personnel who died or were disabled.
The final bill now defines coercive or serious sexual violence, deliberate or arbitrary killings of unarmed people, acts of disappearance and inhuman or cruel torture as ‘violations of human rights’. Families of those killed, those who were injured or became disabled by landmines or war-era explosives are also eligible for compensation.
But the most egregious provision is still the one to reduce punishment ‘by 25%’ as per prevailing law for serious human rights violations except rape and serious sexual violence. How 25% is going to be applied is arbitrary. Proponents of the bill argue that transitional justice should not be viewed from the perspective of criminal justice alone because the crimes were committed during an armed conflict.&nbsp;
More than 60,000 complaints have been filed with the Commission for the Investigation of the Disappeared and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. There is a provision for the Commissions to call for renewed complaints for a period of three months.
Prime Minister Oli wants to form the commission by September before he goes to New York to speak at the UN General Assembly next month. The term of office of the chair and members of the commission will be four years which means the transitional justice process should be complete by September 2028.&nbsp;
But that is easier said than done. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/truth-about-truth-commission,3565">Both commissions have underperformed spectacularly in the past</a> because of lack of political will to face war crimes. There is no guarantee that the next commissioners will be more independent. Their persona and party loyalties will have a significant impact regardless of how good the law is.
So far, Nepal has spent Rs21 billion on reparations for families of the estimated 17,000 people killed or disappeared, and payouts to tens of thousands injured. The ghosts of those who died will continue to haunt the peace process until there is full truth and justice for war crimes.
Santa Gaha Magar

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Nepal's transitory justice

When he was a teenager years ago during the war, the Maoists who held sway over the Dalit village of Muktikot in western Nepal promised Man Bahadur Bishwakarma liberation and prosperity. Many like Man Bahadur believed in that utopia, and took up arms like others from the downtrodden Dalit community here. They even renamed the village Muktikot (Fort Freedom) from its original Dumkot. ‘Dum’ is a derogatory term used to address the Dalit community. Muktikot is spread across a steep mountainside with unirrigated terrace farms. Most of the men migrate to India for seasonal work, others never come back. The women left behind had to walk hours for water, and since there were no roads then, travelling to town for government subsidised rice took at least a week. “The Maoists told us that we would find jobs right here in the village, that every household would have tap water, they promised an end to caste discrimination,” recalls Man Bahadur. “That is why I joined the revolution in Grade 10.” He is talking while walking up a steep trail three hours from Muktikot, where his family has been living in a cattle shed after a landslide damaged his house in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051804058_bc4d26d047714332fcdd2242229a1227d207a972439e02e3c822aaa118066b3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024051804058_bc4d26d047714332fcdd2242229a1227d207a972439e02e3c822aaa118066b3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Th remote village of Muktikot in Bajura district in far west Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Most of Muktikot’s young population joined the Maoists, convinced that changing the name of the village was proof this was going to be a real revolution. Eighteen years after the end of the conflict, the only thing that has changed for the nearly 2,300 Dalits in Muktikot is the name of their village. Not that there has not been some progress. There are now motorable roads and residents do not have to walk as far as Kalikot or Dailekh to get a sack of rice. More essentials are available in local shops for those with cash. Man Bahadur himself migrates to India to earn money, and had just returned for a break when we talked to him. “I fought for the Maoists in the hope that I would not have to go to India for work, but there are still no jobs here,” he says. “The Maoists promised a mirage.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051804058_fcd64c34f689e7a4d44f285bb6a7b6b28329941e2766440ab208c9039a855d31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024051804058_fcd64c34f689e7a4d44f285bb6a7b6b28329941e2766440ab208c9039a855d31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Men in Muktikot preparing to migrate to India for work.</figcaption> </figure>  Birth and death Manbuja Bishwakarma has just turned 20, the minimum legal age of marriage in Nepal. But she has been married since age 13, giving birth to five children, three of whom died. “The babies just died one after the other,” recalls Manbuja, who just had to have more babies in the hope that some would survive. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/how-the-climate-crisis-adds-to-child-marriage-in-nepal">How climate crisis adds to child marriage in Nepal</a>, Sonam Lama Her neighbour, 30-year-old Lalkala Bishwakarma has given birth eight times, and only four babies survived. There are women in Muktikot who gave birth to as many as 14 children, and there is not a single mother in Muktikot who has not lost a baby.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051804058_dd4d62e65cc4ac88cd46a91a62b9c60bcb2d43bbc5cb5455dc7efe4a7d2ff1b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024051804058_dd4d62e65cc4ac88cd46a91a62b9c60bcb2d43bbc5cb5455dc7efe4a7d2ff1b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Lalkala Bishwakarma</figcaption> </figure>  Tilakhuni Bishwakarma, 40, had 10 children, and eight of them survived. Sitting outside her home, she is now surrounded by her grandchildren. Despite Nepal’s total fertility rate now dropping to near replacement level, here in Muktikot infant mortality is still high and this means women have more babies in the hope that some will survive. Child marriage and low female literacy contribute to the high rate of maternal and infant mortality. Community health records show that even in 2021, eight out of 45 infants born in Muktikot died. While Nepal’s average infant mortality rate dropped to 33 for every 1,000 babies born in 2022, &nbsp;the rate was 178 in Muktikot. “The most prominent among the many reasons for the high maternal deaths are early marriage and frequent pregnancy,” says Janaki Neupane, a community nurse in Muktikot. &nbsp; Four years ago, Bachchi Bishwakarma died of a hemorrhage while giving birth to her second child at home. Her husband Gorkha says she had barely survived giving birth to their first child. “I was home alone that day, and I took care of her,” Gorkha recounts. “Our child was born, but my wife bled to death.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040512_4718183318c77de8bb9b719346b9b19c96bef0984055585b00884f741f905c2e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240518040512_4718183318c77de8bb9b719346b9b19c96bef0984055585b00884f741f905c2e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot"> <figcaption>Tilakhuni Bishwakarma</figcaption> </figure>  Birthing centres were opened in Muktikot last year to address high infant and maternal deaths, but Nurse Neupane says it still lacks basic equipment and budget. Nirmala Bishwakarma got married when she was 13 and was &nbsp;pregnant soon after. She had her first baby, but soon got pregnant again. “Birth brings death here,” Nirmala, now 20, says simply. Nirmala and her children all look emaciated and she weighs only 33kg. Bajura’s district headquarters in Martadi provides nutritional allowance, but Nirmala cannot afford to travel that far to get it. &nbsp; Nepal’s development indicators, including lifespan (page 1) and poverty rate have shown dramatic improvements over the past three decades. But here in Muktikot, hunger stalks the land. In fact, a recent survey showed that 95% of women, children and young adults in Muktikot are undernourished. Most men, on the other hand, look well fed because they are mostly away in India for work. &nbsp; Only 12% of the land in Bajura is arable, but even then there is lack of irrigation, frequent droughts, and now climate breakdown contributing to the lack of food. “The harvests are just not enough to sustain the families,” says Bharat Bahadur Rokaya, chair of Swamikartik Khapar Rural Municipality where Muktikot is located. Here in the rugged mountains of northern Bajura bordering Humla and Mugu, the families grow millet, maize, and wheat, but Nirmala Bishwakarma says the harvests hardly last a month. “If it was not for the subsidised rice we would have empty stomachs,” she says. Hindrances to hygiene Down the mountain from Muktikot, the green waters of the Karnali River are visible. But the 400 Dalit households here have to share just three community taps for drinking water. Half the households do not have toilets, and defecation in the open is common. Donor agencies have helped build toilets, but these are mostly used to store fodder because there is no water. “How can we use water for the toilets where there isn’t enough for drinking?” asks Ward chair Ajay Bishwakarma. &nbsp; Families have to walk for four hours to bathe and do washing. “We do not wash our clothes for months on end,” says Kushi Bishwakarma, 40.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040516_e234d5b4fac4fa24e62e65a35f2eafbfb044a32a5f8ef8172932eca96eeaa17b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240518040516_e234d5b4fac4fa24e62e65a35f2eafbfb044a32a5f8ef8172932eca96eeaa17b" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="733" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot hygiene"> </figure>  The lack of water has compromised hygiene and sanitation in the village, resulting in diseases like diarrhoea, allergies, and other health issues, especially among children. Lack of water in the village has also led to uterine prolapse among the women in Muktikot since they primarily face the task of ferrying heavy jars of water from the communal taps to their houses The ‘One house, one tap, one toilet’ campaign introduced by the rural municipality this year hopes to solve water-related issues for Muktikot residents. But that is yet another election promise. Testing times This underserved village is not just affected by structural inequality and state neglect. In 2021, a landslide swept away 54 houses in Muktikot, and most families lost homes and what little arable land they had. “Earlier, we at least had a house to live in, now we don’t even have that,” says Muktikot resident Asal Bishwakarma. “We have been living with relatives since. How will we survive?” More than two years after the landslide, not a single house in the village has been rebuilt. Each family was allocated Rs500,000 in relief on an instalment basis, with aid from all three tiers of government.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040516_26ebf9b2f52722180b1b403b1410f19ea5c7d0321047b099a574a35519706914.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240518040516_26ebf9b2f52722180b1b403b1410f19ea5c7d0321047b099a574a35519706914" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1433" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot landslide"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518040516_bbe50221dca556ac0e798843d672f1190abafacb82fa792bfec289eeb31ad013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240518040516_bbe50221dca556ac0e798843d672f1190abafacb82fa792bfec289eeb31ad013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Muktikot landslide"> </figure>  Asal has only received Rs35,000 so far, and has spent it all on buying food. No one knows where the promised money went. Muktikot residents now want their entire village relocated somewhere safer. &nbsp;The local government agrees that resettlement is necessary, but it was unable to find a suitable alternative. “It is not possible to resettle such a large number of people at one go,” says Bajura MP Badri Pandey. “We also cannot create jobs for all of the population at once.” Muktikot might have been declared liberated on paper during a war fought in the name of Nepal’s downtrodden, but this Dalit village is emblematic of promises not kept. Looking around the landslide scarred village he has spent half a century of his life in, Muktikot’s Dhanajay Bishwakarma laments, “We are not even considered humans by the state.”

Muktikot still waiting for liberation

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/antonio-guterres-agenda-in-kathmandu">United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres</a> spent a busy first day in Nepal after landing in Kathmandu at 1AM on Sunday on his four-day visit. He had a one-on-one with Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal, Defence Minister Purna Bahadur Khadka and Foreign Minister N P Saud at their offices in Singha Darbar. He also paid a courtesy call on President Ram Chandra Paudel, visited Patan Darbar Square heritage site and took part in a banquet hosted by Prime Minister Dahal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231029151024_9eb3d96ff0538da012c853f151a54af94ae653412bc9559764af96a5569c812f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231029151024_9eb3d96ff0538da012c853f151a54af94ae653412bc9559764af96a5569c812f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="António Guterres in Nepal"> <figcaption>António Guterres with president Ram Chandra Paudel. Photo: RATNA SHRESTHA/RSS</figcaption> </figure>  Dahal and Guterres told a press meet that their discussions centred on the international situation, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/no-closure-after-nepal-s-insurgency">Nepal’s peace process</a>, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-destruction-ice-is-also-great-and-will-suffice">impact of the climate crisis on the Himalaya</a>, the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals as well Nepal’s imminent graduation from least developed to developing country status. “Our talks were extremely cordial and we spoke frankly about expanding ties between Nepal and the United Nations system,” Dahal said, “we delved deeply into climate impacts, and appreciated the Secretary-General’s role in helping Nepal adapt to the crisis, and for greater future assistance for adaptation.” Dahal also said that Nepal’s peace process was nearing its final phase, adding: “We feel that the UN and the Secretary-General’s role in seeing it through will be important.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231029151024_725f11f9c9bbe69181b9c3cdd6a9be6c72f0c4e0526199f770124ab1d92dd1fb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231029151024_725f11f9c9bbe69181b9c3cdd6a9be6c72f0c4e0526199f770124ab1d92dd1fb" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="António Guterres in Nepal"> <figcaption>Photo: PRADEEP RAJ ONTA/RSS</figcaption> </figure>  Dahal added that he got the impression that Guterres was well informed about Nepal’s political situation, and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-tj-bill-protects-perpetrators-shortchanges-survivors">transitional justice process</a>. The other matter on the agenda was Nepal’s important role in contributing to the UN’s peacekeeping forces in conflict zones around the world. Dahal said Guterres was full-praise for Nepal’s contribution to peacekeeping. Antonio Guterres told the press that Nepal’s peace process and traditional justice should be concluded adhering to international law, the Supreme Court’s ruling on the matter, and the needs of the survivors and families of the victims. Guterres also met the main opposition leader K P Oli of the UML during which Oli is said to have complained about Dahal still promoting a culture of violence despite the Maoist party having entered democratic politics.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231029151024_daaf2c46d6a9303a37aa671800990ba86d2fe9b6f452594a48bf442e8f1333b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231029151024_daaf2c46d6a9303a37aa671800990ba86d2fe9b6f452594a48bf442e8f1333b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="António Guterres in Nepal"> <figcaption>António Guterres with the main opposition leader K P Oli of UML. Photo: RSS</figcaption> </figure>  Former foreign minister and UML leader Pradeep Gyawali said Oli told Guterres that he was opposed to the Maoist party pushing the anniversary of the conflict on 13 February as ‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/uproar-over-maoist-war-anniversary-holiday">People’s War Day</a>’. “We all need to conclude the peace process and the prime minister as a former guerrilla commander has an important role, but he is actively glorifying violence, and this is worrying for the survivors of the conflict,” Gyawali quoted Oli as telling Guterres. Oli also raised the issue of the Truth and Reconciliation Bill which still has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-transitional-justice-and-the-west-s-recalibration">provisions for general amnesty for murders and other war crimes</a>, and violates a Supreme Court ruling.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231029151028_5152f622d878e93bc95d92fa6243fb5a11657d7fafee49e710864e283ca1f59c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20231029151028_5152f622d878e93bc95d92fa6243fb5a11657d7fafee49e710864e283ca1f59c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2113" loading="lazy" alt="António Guterres in Nepal"> <figcaption>Photo: PRADEEP RAJ ONTA/RSS</figcaption> </figure>  “Transitional justice cannot be transitional injustice, and should be governed by the wishes of the survivors and families of the victims,” Oli reportedly said. Nepal’s peace process is regarded as a model for post-conflict societies because of the successful demobilisation of the insurgents, their induction into the national army and rehabilitation of the rest. However, there are some loose ends including <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">lack of justice against known perpetrators of war crimes</a>, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/20-years-ago-this-week/child-soldiers">recruitment of child soldiers</a> and summary executions and disappearances by state security forces. --- UN Secretary-General's press encounter with the Prime Minister of Nepal THE SECRETARY-GENERAL -- Joint press encounter with the Prime Minister of Nepal, Mr. Pushpa Kamal Dahal ‘Prachanda’ Kathmandu, 29 October 2023 [as delivered] Good afternoon. It is a great pleasure to be back in beautiful Nepal. The Prime Minister and I have just had a very productive meeting and I thank him for his wonderful hospitality. Indeed, the warm welcome that I received in Nepal is something I will never forget. We are living in difficult and tense times. I know that even though the conflict in the Middle East is thousands of miles away, it has hit very close to home for the people of Nepal. I extend my deepest condolences to the families of the ten Nepalese students killed in the terror attacks by Hamas in Israel on 7 October, and my best wishes for the safe return of Mr. Bipin Joshi, who is missing. I have just arrived here from Qatar and I will continue to insist on the immediate and unconditional release of all the hostages in Gaza. And I repeat my utter condemnation of the appalling attacks perpetrated by Hamas. There is no justification, ever, for the killing, injuring and abduction of civilians. The situation in Gaza is growing more desperate by the hours. I regret that instead of a critically needed humanitarian pause supported by the international community, Israel has intensified its military operations. The number of civilians who have been killed and injured is totally unacceptable. All parties must respect their obligations under International Humanitarian Law. That Law emerged from the tragedy and awful experiences of war. I have always been consistent in my call for strict compliance of the well-established principles and rule of International Humanitarian Law. The protection of civilians is paramount. The Laws of War establish clear rules to protect human life and respect humanitarian concerns. Those laws cannot be contorted for the sake of expedience. The world is witnessing a humanitarian catastrophe taking place before our eyes. More than two million people, with nowhere safe to go, are being denied the essentials for life – food, water, shelter and medical care – while being subjected to relentless bombardment. I urge all those with responsibility to step back from the brink. And I reiterate my appeal for an immediate humanitarian ceasefire, the unconditional release of all hostages, and the delivery of a sustained humanitarian relief at a scale that meets the needs of the people of Gaza. We must join forces to end this nightmare for the people of Gaza, Israel and all those affected around the world, including here in Nepal. Ladies and gentlemen, I am here in Kathmandu to strengthen the deep friendship and cooperation between Nepal and the United Nations. Nepal has a long and proud tradition of championing peace and multilateralism. And the United Nations is hugely grateful to Nepal for your support for multilateral solutions – backed up by the enormous contribution you make to peacekeeping missions around the world. Nepal’s progress over the past twenty years has been astonishing: You have become a republic, established peace, and thrown yourselves behind the Sustainable Development Goals and climate action. And there’s more to come. The next few years will be decisive, as Nepal prepares to graduate from Least Developed Country status. And as it embarks on the final stages of the peace process with transitional justice. Transitional justice must help to bring peace to victims, families and communities. The United Nations stands ready to support Nepal to develop a process that meets international standards, the Supreme Court’s rulings, and the needs of victims – and to put it into practice. Nepal is also caught in a blizzard of global crises not of its making: the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic, inflation caused by the international economic situation, and the enormous threat posed by climate chaos. Much more international action is needed. Developed countries must step up to support sustainable development, and help developing economies including Nepal to tackle the climate crisis. On this trip, I will visit the Himalayas to see for myself the terrible impact of the climate crisis on the glaciers. The situation is dire and it is accelerating. Nepal has lost close to a third of its ice in just over thirty years. And glaciers are melting at record rates. The impact on communities is devastating and I will meet local people in the Himalayas to hear directly from them about how they are affected. I will travel to Pokhara and to Lumbini, to reflect on the Lord Buddha’s teachings of peace and non-violence, which are more relevant than ever in our deeply troubled world. And I want to explore how the United Nations and Nepal can work together even more to solve problems, boost prospects, and improve international support. Because Nepal is a friend of the world, and so the world must be a better friend to Nepal. Working together, we can make that a reality. Thank you.

António Guterres meets Nepal’s leaders

Nepal must ensure that it maintains peace as it works through its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-transitional-justice-and-the-west-s-recalibration">transitional justice process</a>, says an expert from Colombia, where violence has not stopped even though an entire legal system was created as part of the South American nation’s 2016 peace agreement.
“The sad part of this story is that we still have war,” judge Caterina Heyck said after a week of workshops and speaking engagements inKathmandu hosted by the International Commission of Jurists (ICJ).
“In Colombia we have a peace agreement, a judicial system, but we lack peace. But in Nepal you are not lacking peace and for me that’s really amazing,” she said. “To be in a taxi in Kathmandu, or to walk on the street at night and to not feel like I might be kidnapped… that peace you should never, ever lose.”
Colombia suffered five decades of conflict with guerrillas of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). As many as 220,000 people were killed, 25,000 disappeared and millions displaced. But FARC splinter groups and other armed outfits still operate in some rural areas, and the current violence is said to be tied to drug trafficking.
“I can’t describe how bad it is to always have war, we are sick and tired of having a war,” added Heyck, whose ex-husband’s three members were kidnapped.&nbsp;
“Even if you ask the victims who suffered the most, more than anything else they want to live in peace,” says the judge, who has written two books on the role of kidnapping during the conflict.
Colombia’s peace agreement included the setting up of a complex court system, the Special Jurisdiction for Peace (SJP), where Heyck is one of the justices. It includes two paths for prosecution: acknowledgement and non-acknowledgement.
Those who admit their acts will receive a ‘restorative sanction’, such as helping to build a bridge or finding and removing landmines. Those who do not receive an ‘alternative’ or ‘ordinary’ prison sentence, depending on whether they finally agree to cooperate.
The position of the perpetrator and the seriousness of the crimes committed are also factored into decision-making about sanctions.
“During peace talks the most difficult point was the design of the judicial system, because it was very obvious that (the top leaders of both the guerrillas and the military) were not going to sign the peace agreement if they were going to go to jail. It was as simple as that,” says Heyck.
In Nepal, where the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">transitional just process is currently stuck</a>, recent disputes over a transitional justice law have focused on possible amnesty for the Maoists and state-side perpetrators of conflict era atrocities that are considered serious violations of human rights. In fact, it seeks to distinguish between political ‘murder’ and criminal ‘extreme murder’, which activists say renders the whole process meaningless.
A whole generation of young Nepalis has grown up <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/delay-dilute-deny">without the knowledge of the decade-long Maoist insurgency</a> that killed at least 17,000 people. It has been 17 years since the Comprehensive Peace Accord was signed in 2006. Families of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal">over 1,400 disappeared are still waiting for the truth</a>, and survivors of war crimes have not got justice.
Heyck explains that Colombia complies with international law in that it bans amnesty for those who were most responsible. “But they’re not going to go to jail if they acknowledge the truth, they’re just going to have a restorative sentence,” she says, adding, “it’s too early for us to say that we succeeded. It’s the victims who will say in the future if the system was right or wrong.”
Heyck had in-depth experience in international humanitarian law and working as a legal expert with the Colombian government, including as a peace negotiator, when she was one of 38 judges chosen for the SJP among thousands of applications.&nbsp;
Much of her time is spent poring over legal texts and discussing cases with colleagues, but she most enjoys leaving the office to research incidents involving the country’s Indigenous people.&nbsp;
She has also faced immense pressure, including as one of five justices who had to decide if a former FARC leader, Jesús Santrich, should be sent for trial in the United States or protected under Colombia’s non-extradition law.&nbsp;
“It was very tough, the American embassy was involved, and the attorney general at the time was very close to the ambassador,” Heyck explains.&nbsp;
“We asked for the evidence and the Americans did not send it… in the end, three out of five of us voted to provide him with the guarantee of non-extradition, and he was released.”
Today she feels like the wheels of justice are mired in a legal muck. She says: “We have nine years remaining… I know that it’s too little. We cannot grant justice to the victims if the perpetrator dies. Many are already in their 70s, in their 80s. Time is passing so fast, we must hurry.”
Asked whether a transitional justice process is needed in a country like Nepal, where most people appear to have moved on after the conflict Heyck says: “As a judge, as a lawyer, as a person who has worked for human rights, of course the answer would be yes. You cannot leave justice behind.”
But she cautions: “It has to be another type of justice … if after 60 years a former perpetrator who has been living peacefully is going to go to jail. That’s quite crazy. Which is why I go for restorative justice, not for punitive justice. That is the kind of justice that will bring more peace, that will go farther in terms of reconciliation. Because sometimes justice can stoke hatred, and can re-open wounds. That is not advisable.”
In Nepal, however, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/all-is-fair-in-war-and-peace">former guerrilla commander Pushpa Kamal Dahal</a> is now prime minister for the third time and has made insensitive public statements about victims. The transitional justice process is also stuck.

Restorative justice for peace-building

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222039c7e80680e0c02e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: SANTOSH DAHIT/HIMALKHABAR</figcaption></figure>At the peak of the Maoist conflict in 2002, Prem Kumari Pun fled her village in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-the-frontlines-of-nepals-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mountains of Rolpa</a> for the relative safety of the plains. It was getting difficult to withstand frequent harassment and threats by the army and Maoist guerrillas.She quit her teaching job at a local school, and moved down to Ghorahi. This meant she had to start from square one.“We were in the war zone, and there would be battles in the surrounding mountains, bombs and bullets everywhere. We teachers would be treated with suspicion by both sides,” Pun recalls. “I loved to teach, and I worked very hard at my job. But saving my family was more important.”In Ghorahi, it was difficult for Prem Kumari to support herself and children without a job. She took up tailoring classes and was a determined student. She won the Best Trainee award in her class, and was contemplating starting her own tailoring shop.What helped was that as a girl in Rolpa, Prem Kumari had learnt to weave hemp from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-grass-is-greener-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cannabis plant that grows wild in the mountains of Nepal</a>. She incorporated this skill into her sewing.She registered her business and started collecting hemp fibre in earnest. To keep up with demand, she ordered more of the material from Rukum, Doti and Accham districts to turn into hemp waistcoats, hats, caps, bags and shoes.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222099c7e80680e0c02e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1560" height="1107"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222289c7e80680e0c02e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1072"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The material was new, and most customers in her shop were initially reluctant to try it. Many said it was too rough to be used for clothing.“I remember gifting a waistcoat and hat made from hemp to an official at the district Home and Small Industries Office who was reluctant to wear it,” says Pun. But a few days later, the man was at the shop to buy another pair.The market for Prem Kumari’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/clothed-in-cannabis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hemp products</a> gradually grew, and customers were attracted to the uniqueness of the material which had a cooling effect in the summer and was warm in the winter.Soon, she even had customers in Japan, UK and USA, where the environmental and fair trade movements had spread awareness in the public about fibres like hemp.But then the Covid-19 pandemic hit, Prem Kumari was forced to cut down staff of 250 to 12. With no international or domestic tourists for most of the past two years, she has been hard-pressed to find customers.But there is optimism in the air again as business picks up. Prem Kumari’s Rs7 million hemp clothing business is once more seeing up to Rs20,000 worth of sales a day.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-must-legalise-cannabis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Why Nepal must legalise cannabis</a><figure><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Four years ago, Prem Kumari Pun was the recipient of the Best Entrepreneur Award at the National Industrial Goods and Technology Exhibition organised by the Home and Small Industries Development Committee in Kathmandu.Now, Prem Kumari wants to help more entrepreneurs start their businesses but says the state needs to promote local initiatives. Spreading the success would allow Nepalis to finally reap a real ‘peace dividend’ 17 years after the conflict ended.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/money-grows-on-trees-here/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Money grows on trees here</a>, Sahina Shrestha“We were internal conflict refugees, and had to start from scratch in a new place. But our success has shown that it is possible with determination and diligence,” says Prem Kumari, adding, “but a little bit of help from the government like low-interest loans without collateral, especially for women could help.”Adapted by Aria Parasai from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/130573" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali original</a> at <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/">himalkhabar.com</a>

Nepali reaps peace dividend 17 years after war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208639c7e80680e0b54e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1189"/><figcaption>Ila Sharma and Hishila Yami in conversation at Indian Embassy, January 2022. Photos: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>Last month, a small group of people sat in a hall at the Indian Embassy, listening to two women in conversation around <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/nepals-maoist-revolution-from-the-inside/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a book by former minister Hisila Yami</a>. What was interesting about this conversation was that it was happening between two women who had  been on opposite sides during Nepal’s Maoist conflict. Hisila Yami, was a former Maoist leader and Ila Sharma, a former election commissioner whose husband was killed by the Maoists.…When snail-mails arrived at my hostel in a hill-town in India in 1996, a friend wrote saying a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/revisiting-maoist-demands,2860" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist insurgency</a> had begun in Nepal. Then, while watching the news in the hall one evening, Ms Chakraborty said: You have a Naxalite movement in Nepal, it seems. I looked at her and then at the tv. Naxalite movement? My teenage mind had a difficult time stringing terms 'insurgency' and 'Naxalite'.I had little knowledge of what was going on in Nepal. But every time I came home on vacation, meal time conversations spilled with news about the Maoists. My mornings at home began with parents focusing on the Kantipur daily spread before them, reading bits of news aloud -- much of it about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">people being killed across Nepal</a>.…Soon after I returned to Kathmandu for good, I received an offer to work at the Indian Embassy’s Press and Information and Culture section. As someone who had just returned with an inflated ego pumped in by convent education, I thought I could take the world by storm. And so, I worked at the embassy as a translator, carefully transcribing news, a lot of which was on <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/hospital-destroyed-in-conflict-and-earthquake,2971" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Army-Maoist clashes</a>. The work took a toll on me and I quit to go back to studies -- I had become tired of recording death, not knowing then that there was going to be more.…As a broadcaster, I spent endless hours writing and reading news about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-scars-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bombings and ambushes</a>. For a sheltered urbanite, who at that time was doing armchair journalism, the Maoists appeared to be at a great distance.I would only meet Maoist cadres much later at the Gokarna Resort, when covering the Government-Maoist peace talks. (Future rounds would happen in Baluwatar, and reporters would all wait through chilly nights, shivering.) When sharing common space, the mystery and romanticism the 'insurgents' had become shrouded in, based on third-hand information, gradually faded away.…A conversation to mark Women’s Day: on the dias at Nepal Tourism Board are Shahana Pradan, Kalpana Dhamala and other women leaders. I am an trainee reporter, who ends up filing about how women representing different sides of politics were able to share a platform that day. I fiercely disagree with violence, but I still thought the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12936#.Yf388i2B2b8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">insurgency had given something to some Nepali women</a> -- a voice.…<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208669c7e80680e0b54e4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>On a foggy December morning, I sat at the Shaktikhor Camp talking to Maoist deputy commander Uday Bahadur Chalaune. I wrote about how <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/ex-guerrillas-regret-the-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist rebels</a> were languishing in the camps, while their leaders who had shed so much blood on their way to power, reigned in newfound glory. During our conversation, Chalaune and the others reiterated their party stand, at times nodding their heads in that familiar way.Eventually, Chalaune and his relatives would choose the golden handshake instead of integration. Was he disillusioned with the long wait? I have often wanted to meet him again and ask him.…In her one-roomed home in Bhaktapur, Sunita Regmi 'Yojana', a former Maoist warrior, offers me tea. She wears a prosthetic after losing a leg during an attack of an army barrack. During our conversation, she tells me she wants their daughter to grow up to have nothing to do with politics. It makes a good quote to end my story with. I have never met the family again, but have hoped that they have been able to educate the child as Yojana had hoped to.…Jelbang is sunny but cold. Everywhere you turn, you meet someone who lost a loved one to the war. In Thabang, a strange coldness seems to have settled over conversations with outsiders. Who do you trust? Something about the neatness of the place makes me want to stay longer, but it also feels too far away from home. Sadness looms in the air, and I think I probably made it up in my head.…Over the years, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war/">Kiran Chaudhary</a> has become the closest subject to my heart. She awaits justice, years since her <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/wartime-rape-victims-of-Kanchanpur-speak-out-wait-for-justice,4222" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rape</a>-in-custody by the APF during the war. She comes to Kathmandu once a year to see doctors who are still treating her violated body. Her time in Kathmandu is spent shuttling between hospital and the National Human Rights Commission.…Years on, I have never been able to come to terms with the violence that unfolded during the war. Attending the conversation at the Indian Embassy between women who are a privileged minority -- women like me, who went to schools in India and can read and write English text -- made me wonder what Nepal’s endless political wrangling has really done to propel <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-leaders-seen-but-not-heard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women into politics</a>.Sharma, the father of whose children was among the first casualties of the war, said during the conversation that the way forward to a peaceful politics is to make use of the right to vote. In Nepal, a generation of us grew up without an election for the longest time, and I still don’t vote because I have come to believe that an annulled vote is also a vote.During the conversation, Sharma asked Yami how she now feels about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-the-frontlines-of-nepals-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war</a> to which so many people on both sides were lost. Yami paused, sighed, expressed regret and then said history is evidence that revolution always demands sacrifices.I have become stuck in her pause. Watching Ila Sharma and Hisila Yami was to watch a repeat of the reconciliation process. But it made me wonder: is reconciliation even a thing after what has passed?Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

Vignettes from war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101116/637208209c7e80680e0b54cejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1119"/><figcaption>Takam village (above) in Dhaulagiri Municipality is a model for how federalism should function. Photos: JOY STEPHENS</figcaption></figure>Bal Bir Biswakarma from the village of Lulang at the lap of Mt Dhaulagiri in Central Nepal is a 68-year-old subsistence farmer, descendants of metal smiths who settled here centuries ago to smelt copper ore.When the copper ran out, he became a high altitude porter, summiting Mt Lhotse and even rock climbing in Wyoming in the United States. But, as Joy Stephens <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-clouds-are-lifting-below-dhaulagiri/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">writes in her travelogue</a> most of his life Bal Bir Biswakarma has been living hand-to-mouth in this Dalit village high up in the mountains.Since 2017, Lulang is a part of Dhaulagiri Municipality and elected Thamsara Pun as mayor who took the revolutionary step of moving the headquarter from the traditional power centre of Takam to Muna village to make it better accessible to the region’s indigenous and Dalit populations.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101116/637208239c7e80680e0b54cfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="792"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the past five years, villagers have begun to see improvements in healthcare, education and jobs, thanks to political devolution gained through Nepal’s new federal structure. Pun is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-politics-is-local/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">looking forward to fast-tracked local elections</a> on 18 May, and the chance to serve five more years.This is what federalism means in practice: giving voice to the voiceless, letting under-served communities take charge so they can better take care of themselves. Dhaulagiri Municipality is also a reminder to the squabbling political class in faraway Kathmandu, some of whom have prematurely declared federalism dead without even letting it prove its worth.Excitement about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/think-nationally-vote-locally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local elections</a> is already palpable across rural Nepal, but a cynical and pessimistic political class in the national capital does not want to let go of power and resources. In fact, despite a federal Constitution, political decision-making is more centralised than ever before.While the rights of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/polls-in-the-time-of-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local governments</a> are enshrined in the Constitution, it is not followed in the spirit with access to resources for them to actually perform.“Federalism is the sum total of everything we Nepalis have gone through, from various governing structures to the Maoist conflict, the Madhes Movement and everything in between,” explains Khimlal Devkota, recently elected to the National Assembly.“Federalism stands for stability, development and devolution and we had high expectations, expecting quick results,” he adds. “In some ways we have succeeded, people don’t have to rely on Kathmandu for everything. But the centre is still involved in everything from hydropower plants to erecting view towers.”The 2015 Constitution <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/trial-error-democracy,3713" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">devolved rights to local and sub-national governments</a>, but the necessary laws were not in place until after elections. This meant a confusing transition regarding jurisdiction which threatened to undermine past gains in areas like community forestry, public health and education.“Coordination between the governments, vertical and horizontal, is a pillar of federalism and so is functional demarcation,” says Balananda Paudel who headed the Local Bodies Restructuring Commission. “Our laws are riddled with lack of clarity in some places and elsewhere there is a problem of overlapping functions for different levels of government.”This results in a perpetual blame-game between different levels of government, and a lack of accountability. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-f-word/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Federalism</a>, therefore, is still work in progress and this year’s series of elections will hopefully result in greater devolution.One of the reasons federalism got a bad name is that in the past years, it also decentralised corruption. Of the 753 local governments, one-third have elected chairs and mayors who are contractors and have awarded themselves <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hiding-their-head-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sand-mining</a>, road-building and quarrying  contracts.Which is why upcoming local elections are even more important -- to reward elected municipal governments who have worked for the people with another five-year term and reject those who did not.This might also be a time to question the purpose of retaining a parallel power structure composed of the District Administrations and the Chief District Officers. Its job of issuing citizenship papers and passports allows this unelected office of centralised bureaucrats to wield extraordinary power over ordinary people.Federalism has also multiplied central-level politics by seven. Bagmati Province recently set a new record with 70 mini-ministries in Hetauda to allow the coalition to keep power. Much of the last five years were wasted in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/The-f-word-again,1426" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">endless debates about demarcation</a> of provincial boundaries and designating capitals. It took four years for Madhes Province to get its name, and Province 1 is still just a number.“We have made some headway in formulating laws and regulations, now we must bring it into practice, improving staffing for service delivery at local levels and promoting better coordination between and within levels by activating intergovernmental relations,” says Balananda Paudel.Just as democracy is only as effective as politicians, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">federalism</a> too will only function if it follows the true spirit of devolution of power and resources to the periphery. It needs political will at the centre to provide technical and financial support – something we have not seen in the last five years.Says Khimlal Devkota: “Citizens should be placed at the centre of all decision making. This can be done only by nurturing and strengthening federal practice.”

Sonia Awale

Power to the periphery

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637205299c7e80680e0b289fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1208" height="737"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The first popularly elected government led by B P Koirala enacted the Birta Abolition Act in 1959, that required zamindars formerly granted land by the state to pay full tax. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2B7iXxi6EQ44Yn6fvU7P8o">Feudal landlords opposed the move</a>, and it became one of the reasons why King Mahendra ousted Koirala in a coup d’etat on 12 December 1960.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/land-reform-in-cold-war-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/land-reform-in-cold-war-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0_lFjeM84k9XkhIFJ4Ij_i">B P believed that only genuine land reform</a> would ensure that all Nepalis prospered together, and also deflect the Communism tide. But in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/putsch-ek/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/putsch-ek/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3728k40jtTzbzquYVdgXVu">justifying his coup</a>, Mahendra declared that Nepal’s first democratically elected government had to be overthrown because it had “failed to work in the interest of the poor”.Today, more than six decades later, BP’s Nepali Congress that espoused social democracy is leading a governing coalition. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dance-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a>, who once led the party’s student union, is prime minister for the fifth time.Yet, 1.5 million families representing a quarter of Nepal’s households, are still landless or have land issues. Some 53% of Nepal’s farmers own only 18% of the total cultivable land.After ousting B P, King Mahendra continued the भुमी सुधार land reform to retain international support and quell domestic discontent. But the effort was half-hearted: the landed kept their land. Mahendra and his son <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-would-still-be-a-monarchy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Birendra</a> ruled through a partyless Panchayat system for the next 30 years.Ironically, unequal land ownership (the very reason that pushed Mahendra to stage his coup) became one of the factors that led to the People’s Movement and the downfall of the Panchayat in 1990.But even after the multi-party system was restored, there was only tokenism for land rights. In 1991, a commission set up to resolve the issue was dissolved even before it could complete its work. In the past three decades, 18 more land reform commissions have been formed by democratic governments, only to fizzle out.Land ownership and rights have been weaponised time and again at election time since 1990 to win votes, but there has been no real change on the ground. The Nepali Congress, UML and Maoists are all guilty of making false promises to the landless.The Maoists made land to the tiller and just land distribution a major point in their 40-point demand to Deuba in 1996 during his first tenure as prime minister. Their main slogan to recruit young men and women to take up arms was to promise land.After all this, the landless have stopped trusting politicians who promise land. Disputes over land make up one-third of all cases in Nepal’s courts.Various factors have changed the dynamics of land today. While educated Nepalis do not want to farm and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0fa06zRhqJSxyBT6Zn3rB4">migration is leaving arable land fallow</a>, remittances fuel the market in real estate, the price of which has risen exponentially.This unorganised and uncontrolled buying and selling of land has once again concentrated ownership in the hands of richer Nepalis, who have grown pheonmenally richer as property values escalate. There is a whole class of new-rich who have made their fortune through real estate speculation.This is why we have the farce of the Baluwatar real estate scandal that involves the mightiest in the land, even while a quarter of the country’s population is landless.The Gorkha empire’s expansion in the 18th century was financed by land, generals and soldiers were granted ownership of portions of the land they conquered. During the Shah reign, the royalty and courtiers could take what they wanted. During the Rana period, at least one-third of the total cultivable land in Nepal was distributed among those close to them. The Birta system may have been repealed six decades ago, but it is still intact in other forms through landlords, traders and brokers owning most property.Real estate today is booming business, and a major source of revenue for the state from taxes. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1sT_kl8lVvxjzEaQecolxh">Urban land value appreciation</a> has made it possible for some Nepalis to become fabulously rich overnight.It is not productive when real estate speculation becomes a mainstay of the economy. It does not create jobs, and it exacerbates inequality. Private property rights effectively legitimise past injustices that parcelled out large swathes of the country to the privileged. It perpetuates discrimination and inequality, laying the seeds for future conflict.To be sure, distributing land to the landless alone does not solve their problem, nor does it erase historical discrimination. Self-respect comes from belonging to the land, giving them a sense of purpose and responsibility. It is a start. But it should be without any condition, it cannot be a publicity stunt, or ploy to pad up vote banks.If we are to safeguard the gains of the 2017 Constitution and build the pillars of the federal democratic republic from the ground up, we must pick up where B P Koirala left off 61 years ago.Translated from an Editorial in the January-February 2022 issue of <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0kZ1Nz-GpmZwGP7z3MsKDm">Himal Khabarpatrika </a>dedicated to the issue of land.

Ground reality of landlessness in Nepal

<figure><img width="1000" height="716" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/6372049d9c7e80680e0b286fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Image from a series by Chinese photographer Guligo Jia’s exhibition of ‘reunions’ of people with family members they lost in the war projected in the wall behind them. Here, Suman Adhikari is photographed with an old photograph of his father Muktinath Adhikari, himself and his brother. Photo: GULIGO JIA </figcaption></figure>My father Muktinath Adhikari was a science and math teacher at the Panini Sanskrit Secondary School in Duradanda in Lamjung district. I had just got into Grade 8 when my mother became ill.We had to take her to hospital in Kathmandu, carrying her in a doko. My father was so dedicated to his school that he did not come with us. It was not because he did not love her.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12522#.YeVp1S8RqLc" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D12522%23.YeVp1S8RqLc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0lOkM1Nl9In27odcK2tW9V">Both my brothers</a> were studying with me in Kathmandu at the time. One was in college and the other was preparing for his SLC exam. I had gone home to Lamjung for winter holidays with one of them.  <figure><img width="200" height="207" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/6372049f9c7e80680e0b2870jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>My mother had to go through two operations, and I pushed back my return to Kathmandu till 18 January 2002. My sister had also come home for the Maghe Sankranti festival. We were all home on 17 January when my grandfather and his brother came hurriedly to tell us that our father had been taken away by the Maoists.They said he was being taken for “interrogation”.He had been teaching his Grade 10 science class when a gun-wielding militia entered the room, tied a rope around his leg and led him off.We did not know what to do. On the one hand, we reasoned, our father had not done anything wrong, had not harmed anyone, so they would let him go. But we had also heard about Maoist executions and feared the worst.He had told his colleagues as was led away: “You see the situation. Whatever happens to me, manage the school well, do not damage the future of the students.” <figure><img width="1400" height="701" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204a19c7e80680e0b2871jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="2070" height="1576" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204a49c7e80680e0b2872jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>We had no news till evening. I followed my brother to look for our Dad. When we reached near the school, someone told us the news was not good, and there was no point looking for him. I had an inkling that something terrible had happened and that no one was telling us, and I returned home. My brother came back at 7PM, and told us that <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17894#.YeVpZS8RqLc" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D17894%23.YeVpZS8RqLc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2N-_RLEZnLbI0cI4QoiUS2">our father had been killed</a>. They had taken him from the school, past our house, tied his neck to a tree with his muffler, and killed him. My family tried to shield my other brother from the news because he was preparing for his school exam. They did not allow him to even listen to the radio, but he found out anyway from my uncle who had gone to Kathmandu to fetch him. When he got home, the whole family went to the site of the crime. My mother, sister and I could not bear to look. I tried to force myself to at least catch a glimpse, but I could not. The photograph of my father’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16781#.YeVpYi8RqLc" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D16781%23.YeVpYi8RqLc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0aH2JvgxXsXBuNl3GQVhXh">lifeless body still tied to a tree</a> was on the cover of Himal magazine (pictured right) that week. The editor took a big risk by printing that photograph in the midst of war. Later, the picture was picked up by many other newspapers and spread through social media.Even after 20 years, I get the chills if I see that cover photograph. I cannot describe what my family went through. Our father was the sole source of support for the family. Despite his meagre earnings as a school teacher, he used to help others in the village who were in need. But when it was his family that needed support, no one stepped forward to help.In fact, they tormented us by their silence. No one spoke out. They were too afraid that they would also be killed by the Maoists. Before the murder, my aunt had told my father that many other teachers had fled the village because of threats from the Maoists and he should not put himself in danger. My father had replied: “I have never stolen one paisa from anyone, I have never wished anyone any harm, if I leave the school what will become of the future of my students?” <figure><img width="640" height="867" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204a79c7e80680e0b2873jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It later emerged that the Maoists had asked all teachers to donate 25% of their salary to the revolution. My father stood by his principle that donations should be voluntary, and besides he had to also take care of his family with his salary. He had told the Maoists he would consult the others and give his response, but they did not wait for his answer.We could not even remove the body, or observe funeral rites because of the fear of Maoists. My brothers conducted some rituals at home and returned to Kathmandu.I could not leave my mother alone during such a tragic period, and besides she was not well. I had to discontinue my education, but that was nothing compared to the trauma our family had to go through. We mustered the courage to lodge an FIR at the Lamjung District Police Office. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Commissions-of-convenience,1530" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Commissions-of-convenience,1530&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2a5uINM9W70AtKb3zZ1Rk0">There are two Commissions</a> to provide justice to the families of the victims of conflict like us, we even went to the National Human Rights Commission.But even after two decades, there has been no justice. The perpetrators were never caught. If this is the condition of such a high profile war crime, imagine what it is like for others who are not as well known. How will the conflict victims in remote parts of the country ever hope for truth and justice?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPK1y8MSMHc&amp;feature=emb_logoThe Commission on Enforced Disappearances and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission are more interested in letting war criminals off the hook than in providing justice. The commissioners are selected on the basis of party wheeling-dealing, and it looks like their sole intention is to protect the perpetrators. And we hear that they want a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw12XhhNJcMJn9L4BGusBJzm">blanket amnesty for all war crimes</a> by both sides in the conflict. International norms say that whether a perpetrator of a crime is to be pardoned or not is solely at the discretion of the victim. Still, they address political rallies and blatantly boast that they killed 5,000 people and those who were responsible for conflict-era crimes are walking openly in broad daylight. My father, who had no connection at all to the Maoist insurgency, was killed by them. We lost our father. Nothing will bring him back. If his murderers are not caught there is a danger <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/history-on-replay/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/history-on-replay/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1SnZqMPw1s7CMEwi7T7g2L">there will be another conflict</a> like this, and there will be other orphans like us. That is why we are still fighting for justice. I just hope no one in Nepal in future has to bear the kind of physical and mental torture that we did as a family. Twenty years later, my father appears to me in my dreams sometimes. I am so happy to see him alive. But then I wake up, and weep. I wish my dream would never end. Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/127861?fbclid=IwAR32w5E-Totbc63ZAnwgR13Lre3VnPxI8_Vt-uf4e8RFqC6ZncnVTwb6KXQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/127861?fbclid%3DIwAR32w5E-Totbc63ZAnwgR13Lre3VnPxI8_Vt-uf4e8RFqC6ZncnVTwb6KXQ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2e4nzefESDuc7Xr6JVIQUS">Nepali original</a> in <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://himalkhabar.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0eWk9SdO610RJSKCHi_R-5">himalkhabar.com</a>

Nepal’s unpunished war crimes

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203d59c7e80680e0b282bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>Bhakta Bahadur Regmi with Rabin and Rabina in Kathmandu last week speaking about a traumatic tragedy 20 years ago that changed their lives. All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>It was exactly 20 years ago that Rabina Regmi and her brother Rabin were travelling with their parents when their bus was attacked with petrol bombs by Maoists along the East-West Highway in Sarlahi.As the fire spread, the driver lost control and the bus toppled over into a ditch. Rabina, aged 5 and Rabin, 3, and their mother, Anju, were the last to be rescued.All three suffered severe burns, and a video taken at the time shows the two children huddled around their mother, crying and in shock.Anju died after two weeks of pain and agony in a hospital in Raxaul. Rabina had burns all over her face, her hands and stomach. Rabin had burns on his face, a gash on his head, deep cut on his leg and his left hand was broken. Two other passengers also lost their lives in the attack.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2681#.Yd3XUy8w3u1">Rabin and Rabina</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203d89c7e80680e0b282cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="632"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203db9c7e80680e0b282djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203de9c7e80680e0b282ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e19c7e80680e0b282fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="162" height="462">After Nepali Times reporter <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4138#.Yd01MmhBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D4138%23.Yd01MmhBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3xCd8ewhrV9Mu4ia5bOtYQ">Naresh Newar’s story</a> appeared in this newspaper in 2002 (left), the tragedy came to represent the face of a meaningless war, and there was an <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10418#.Yd01s2hBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D10418%23.Yd01s2hBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0k9ll2ElmCFl161aiP0SgQ">outpouring of support from readers</a>. Sushma Koirala Memorial Hospital offered <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4485#.Yd01uGhBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D4485%23.Yd01uGhBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2vHaXELYbwVRMJ58aPNrLT">reconstructive surgery to the children</a>, and Bright Horizon Children’s Home and School took responsibility for their education till college.“Telling their story was important because there wasn’t enough coverage on how the war was affecting children,” says Naresh Newar. “The Maoist were attacking public spaces without regards to who may be affected from their actions, this story showed the victim’s side of story.”Newar followed up with the family numerous times and is grateful for the positive impact it had for the family. The last time he met them, the siblings were happily settled in at the school.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1fsjRXaEHUThe Regmi family's tragedy and ordeal was depicted in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-sibling-war-juna-rai,731">A People War</a>, a photo book trilogy curated by Kunda Dixit and featured in Kesang Tseten and Prem BK's documentary <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2009/10/27/a-state-of-lawlessness/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Frames of War</a> (clip, above).   Now aged 25 and 23, Rabina and Rabin still bear scars from the tragedy, but are determined to not let their past hold them back. Rabina is a final year BBA student at Global College of Management and wants to get into banking. Rabin is doing his BSc in Agriculture from Chandigarh University. After the campus closed last year due to the pandemic, he in Kathmandu attending online classes.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4138#.Yd3XSS8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Why the children?</a>, Naresh Newar<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e39c7e80680e0b2830jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e69c7e80680e0b2831jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">Their father Bhakta Bahadur Regmi is a forest ranger stationed in Hetauda, the same job he had 20 years ago. He is grateful for all the help his children have got over the years from the school, hospital, and others, but says it has been two decades of struggle without their mother.There has been no help from the state. “Everywhere we go, they ask for identification cards proving that we are conflict victims. But we don’t have any papers to prove that,” he says. Even today, he carries a folder of newspaper cuttings and old medical records of his children.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e99c7e80680e0b2832jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was mandated to provide identification cards to conflict survivors, and inform them about investigations into war crimes. But without political connections, and no time to scour many government offices, Bhakta Bahadur and his family have been left to fend for themselves. The attackers were never identified and did not have to answer for their crime.For the past 20 years, Rabina and Rabin have needed numerous operations to heal their wounds, including reconstructive and orthopedic surgery, laser treatment, even hair transplant. The fees for surgeries are waived or subsidised, but the cost of travel, medicines and hospital stay add up.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12867#.Yd3XRy8w3u1">New life</a>, Naresh Newar<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203ec9c7e80680e0b2833jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">In 2015, when Rabina was getting another of her laser treatments for burn scars, the Indian blockade led to a shortage of medicines. “The doctors had to perform the procedure without anesthesia and it was very painful,” recalls Bhakta Bahadur. Later, her wounds got infected and she had to get it treated again. Rabin has not had laser surgery due to financial constraints.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/psychological-scars-%20of-maoist-conflict-on-young-survivors-take-longer-to-heal,1519" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Post-conflict stress syndrome</a>, Taylor Caldwell<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203f09c7e80680e0b2834jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="161" height="242">At Bright Horizon, the siblings aced their studies. Rabin passed his SEE with a GPA of 3.85, the highest from his batch. Rabina was also a good student, and the school is still helping them with college fees, while their father struggles to cover other costs.The first year Rabina was at the boarding school, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12867#.Yd0szmhBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D12867%23.Yd0szmhBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1HzBsDJ5lqZZQWUUsNOHQp">she ran away</a>. “I did not know anyone there and I missed home,” she says. “But later, it became our home. Both of us made life-long friends there.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203f29c7e80680e0b2835jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="161" height="242">Bhakta Bahadur describes Rabina as the calm one. Rabin on the other hand was a mischievous little boy. He says, “Both of them felt at home at Bright Horizon, when I went to pick them up during holidays, they’d refuse to come home saying their mother wasn’t there.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4485#.Yd3XUS8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rabina and Rabin in hospital</a>, Naresh NewarAt school, Rabina made it a point to look out for her brother. Every time Rabin got into fights with his friends, his elder sister would come to his rescue. Today, the two share their hopes and dreams, supporting each other and hope to take care of their father who has sacrificed all to raise them.Weary of the country’s situation, Rabina now wants to go abroad for her MBA. Rabin wants to complete his MSc and then try for the civil exams. “The two of us came to the conclusion that one of us should go abroad and the other should stay back,” says Rabin. “We have seen how much difference having a family member abroad makes for the economic wellbeing of families.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10418#.Yd3XTy8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rs 199,349 for Rabina and Rabin Regmi</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203f59c7e80680e0b2836jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="363" height="242">Having brought up the children on his own, Bhakta Bahadur still worries about their future. But he is happy the two have become responsible young adults ready to take charge of their own lives.Rabina says with determination, “We have had to depend on our father for so long. Now, we want to look after him, and our family.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13966#.Yd3XSi8w3u1">Remembering hell</a>, Nepali Times<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/burning-in-the-aftermath,3757" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Burning in the aftermath</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Sahina Shrestha

The scars of war

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

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

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

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