As Nepalis, we navigate narrow gallis, winding streets, construction work, and traffic jams every day. Due to the unplanned nature of Nepal’s roadways that did not follow ancient city plans, and fast-paced urbanization, digital navigation in Nepal is a major challenge.
The limited mapping data available in Nepal, provided by apps like Google Maps, creates a host of issues for Nepal’s businesses as well as anyone unfamiliar with a certain area. Now a few Nepali companies are creating digital navigation tools catered to Nepali culture and infrastructure.
In countries such as the United States and Colombia, streets are named based on a system of nomenclature that aids navigation. For example, roads in New York City that run north to south are called avenues and those that run east to west are called streets. This system, combined with a grid format for cities or numbered street names, makes navigating through the city simple.
Unlike New York City, a “young” city when compared to Kathmandu, urban planning was not a priority for most of Nepal's recent history. As the population of the urban centers increased exponentially and cities expanded, navigation became more confusing and complex,
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tech-away/nepal-s-e-conomy-rapidly-goes-digital">Nepal’s e-conomy rapidly goes digital</a>, Saniaa Shah
Unclear street names, unnamed side-streets and alleys, a lack of defined landmarks, and poor infrastructure to aid navigation has led to adoption of a simple yet logical system of navigation. Nepalis show, communicate, and share directions to a desired location with the help of commonly recognizable landmarks and pointed fingers.
This moderately effective system of navigation does not translate well into the digital tools in the market. When using Google Maps, for example, the gaping issues in mapping data regularly lead users to dead-ends, roads inappropriate for their vehicle, or unfamiliar neighborhoods. Since Google relies on street names to show direction, it can be unfamiliar to Nepali users and lead to a confusing experience.
Relying on copy-paste solutions like Google Maps, a square peg for a round hole in Nepal, further accentuates this problem and excludes a significant portion of the population from using navigation tools that may make life better. Contemporary nations like Nicaragua that face the same issues (or even Costa Rica and Japan) show that switching to a system of systematically named streets is not well received by the population, considering residents’ comfort and familiarity with the current layout.
The incompatibility of multinational corporate solutions built for planned urban centers is only the start of the problem. The consequences of an inefficient navigation tool extend beyond individual tribulations.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/wildflower-app-celebrates-nepal-s-flora">Wildflower app celebrates Nepal’s flora</a>
As a pre-emerging market, Nepali businesses require digital tools that support efficiency in operations. Since a simple text-based address is not sufficient to navigate to the desired location, commerce must bear the brunt of the impact.
Delivery drivers travel more than required because they cannot locate the destination and call customers multiple times, if not at least once, just to determine the exact address. This creates inefficiencies for businesses that prevent them from scaling up their operations.
In addition to impacting businesses, the importance of localized information and data cannot be overlooked. In Kathmandu, a local’s knowledge of the city allows for quicker and more efficient travel, considering their first-hand experiences navigating the city’s roads and gallis. Imagine a first-time visitor in Kathmandu exploring the city and its secrets without spending months or years learning how to get from place to place. That is the kind of navigation tool that would be invaluable to users, both residents and tourists.
There are Nepali companies that are creating homegrown apps to address this need and help people across the country get to where they need to go.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-new-age-of-romance">The new age of romance</a>
Baato Maps is a Nepali company that uses popular nearby landmarks to indicate direction. The app has unique features such as nearby recommendations for food and other essential amenities, offline maps, and supports the Nepali language to make the application more convenient for its users. Baato also provides its full suite of location and map data capabilities to budding and established businesses in Nepal to power their products.
Another company, Galli Maps, is collecting local street-view data and using drone mapping to provide localized information of our cities to users. Thegana, another local startup, aims to improve navigation efficiency by providing unique codes to each address so specific house numbers are not necessary when locating an address.
However, Nepal still has a long way to go in terms of development and it is crucial for the government and the private sector to invest in better infrastructure and mapping technology to facilitate movement and attract tourists.
Improving navigation in Nepal is essential for the efficiency of businesses and for the lives of people. Access to accurate and reliable digital maps is a precursor to improving the country and how it operates. This would not only improve the travel experience but also boost the economy, create job opportunities, and support the growth of the nation.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tap-track-trace-and-test">Tap, Track, Trace and Test</a>, Saniaa Shah
Prithvi Jung Khadka is the Business Development Lead at Baato, a map-service provider and the Chief Performance Marketer at Digital Mercari, a digital marketing agency.

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Finding your way in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d269c7e80680e0b78acjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"/><figcaption>Maps as abstraction of geometry — literal 'land measurement', as in the case of these two paintings that show aerial view of Kathmandu Valley. Krishna Manandhar, "Overlapping Series, 1985" and "Overlapping Series,1972". Oil on canvas. Photo: ASHISH DHAKAL.</figcaption></figure>At one of the five <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/redefining-art-at-kathmandu-triennale-2077/">Kathmandu Triennale 2077</a> venues, artists from all over the world have converged with diverse expressions of cartography.Curated by the team of exhibition curators, Sheelasha Rajbhandari, Hit Man Gurung and Cosmin Costinas, this show of map art ranges from the cosmic to the subconscious, literary to abstract, and ties together the themes of roots, kinship, freedom and exploration.On entering the Bahadur Shah Baithak in Patan, the first display is Liu Kuo-Sung’s ink, acrylic and collage on paper, titled The Ring B (pictured below). A section of the world spreads across the bottom half of the frame, over which a rising circle is flanked on both sides by crescent moons. And at the top, like on a banner, is Planet Earth against a black field.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d2a9c7e80680e0b78adjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4624" height="3472"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In 1972, the crew of Apollo 17 took <a href="https://www.nasa.gov/content/blue-marble-image-of-the-earth-from-apollo-17" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the famous Blue Marble image of the Earth</a>, which inspired Liu to create The Ring B a year later. This painting juxtaposes the earth shaped by the millennia of human imagination with a photograph taken from 29,000km away in space. Human traditions, myths and history approach the actual image for a cosmic rendezvous.Meanwhile on the wall opposite sits Untitled by Mary Dhapalany, from Ramingining, Northern Territory in Australia (detail pictured below, left). A weaver and an actress, Dhapalany work is rooted in the Yolŋu’s traditional nganiyal (woven mats) that have deep ritual, ceremonial and practical significance.Untitled is an iridescent pandanus mat with five spiralling circles. On the wall, these look like eyes, or waves, upon which travel knowledge and stories from one generation to another, intricately weaving the complex threads of family, relations, territories and bodies. And as each loop joins and encloses another, nothing and no one is left behind.Then comes Urgen Dorje Sherpa’s 100 Peaceful and Wrathful Mahayoga Deities Mandala (detail pictured below, right), a large thanka on the right that is the visual representation of the Bardo – ‘liminal state of existence between death and rebirth’.The mandala rises laterally instead of the usual circular structure, as seen from above, and depicts the tantra concerning life and death.This is a guide for departed souls to a swift and positive rebirth – another ‘map’ that transcends to show us a geography beyond what is tangible. Together, the three artworks set the tone for the rest of the exhibition, punctuated only by changing landscape and styles.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d2e9c7e80680e0b78aejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="2664"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d319c7e80680e0b78afjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="2664">We are invited to look beyond the contemporary worldview of maps as the affirmation or rejection of<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/politics-and-history-of-nepals-kalapani-claim/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> people’s expansionist ambitions</a>. Cartography is borne of the desire for exploration and discovery – turning the pages of an atlas, poring over the colours, running fingers along lines and the words to travel to previously remote and unknown places.At the exhibition, these places fly out of the pages of books (Youdhistir Maharjan’s Without a Map series) and memories (Uma Shankar Shah’s Railway Station of Janakpur and NJJR) and draw attention to the un- and re-learning to understand one’s own culture and contours of geography.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d359c7e80680e0b78b0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3472" height="4624">One such piece is Silata (pictured above), an instrument for divination used in Himalayan <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-future-written-in-the-stars/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">astrological practices</a>. The various quadrants are examined to read and calculate an individual’s past, present and future.The practice may now feel obsolete, yet it is strikingly familiar to many Nepalis who most likely had a cheena drawn at birth depicting the dimensions of the universe and their place in it.Silata is among the several pieces in the exhibition that remind us that maps are not limited to the ground beneath our feet. Untitled (WTEIA2) by Daniel Boyd references to the stick-charts of the Marshall Islands used by indigenous communities for seafaring.These depicted the positions of islands, but were never taken on voyages. Instead, they were memorised, creating a vastly different form of knowledge transmission.The pieces by Nikau Hindin represent Māori skymaps based on the positions of celestial bodies. On a more abstract side, Wing Poso’s Interior is a powdered herbs, Styrofoam and steel installation depicting the interconnectedness of the microscopic and macroscopic world, of physics and philosophy, individual lives and the universe.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d389c7e80680e0b78b1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="2664">Nepali Power by Köken Ergun and Tashi Lama (pictured above) is a collaboration between Istanbul, Kathmandu and Bhaktapur, inspired by the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/bri-and-trans-himalayan-connectivity/">Belt and Road Initiative (BRI)</a> set forth by China in 2013 to build global connectivity. The vibrant triptych hangs gloriously in the middle of the room, depicting rich possibilities and precautions.On one panel, water flows from the Himalaya, replenishing South- and Southeast Asia, as electricity travels along transmission lines. Others reference the environmental and political consequences, with scales running along in loops like snares. In the middle hangs ‘Nepali Power’: whether an authentic slogan or heavy propaganda, it is left to interpretation.On the floor below in a room that feels like a railway carriage or a caravan (pictured below), is Nyima Dorjee Bhotia’s Where the Fox Settles. The collection of photographs, archival materials, travel documents, a transistor and an abacus, and other artefacts create a real cabinet of collective history.Based in the village of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19241#.YinfCjhByJA" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Walung</a> in north-eastern Nepal, this archaeological exploration recounts <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-face-of-a-himalayan-climate-crisis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Himalayan stories</a> in a global context – set next to the figurative map of the French Army’s losses in the Russian campaign 1812-13, 1869, and The Man of Commerce by AF McKay. The latter quite literally transposes the human anatomy as a ‘cartographic metaphor’ to describe railway lines and economic exchange across America and to Europe.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d3c9c7e80680e0b78b2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3280" height="2464">The theme of decolonisation and anti-imperialism runs deep in the exhibition, re-evaluating the misinterpreted evolutionary principle of the ‘survival of the fittest’ that justifies genocides throughout history.The European worldview that led to enslavement and exploitation, erasing traditions, generations of history and practices is carefully dissected rather than mechanically reiterated. It mirrors Nepal’s own exclusion of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/how-art-empowers-nepals-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">indigenous communities</a>.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d3f9c7e80680e0b78b3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d439c7e80680e0b78b4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The language of map-making has seen many transformations throughout history, moving from a limited, flat point of view to spherical and colour-coded, with mathematical and imaginary lines criss-crossing.But what is a map, really? How can the limitless expanse of our imagination and experience be bound? And how can fences and walls supersede nature’s rivers and mountains?This exhibition is an expression of a borderless globe, where unique and diverse ideas find companions. Visitors are made startlingly aware that Nepal is no longer isolated, no longer insular. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/thamels-new-art-street/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">artistic voices</a> here are part of the true Theatrum Orbis Terrarum – ‘Theatre of the Orb of the World.’<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d479c7e80680e0b78b5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1688">Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-art-debut-in-venice/"> Nepal art debut in Venice</a>Kathmandu Triennale 207711 February - 31 March 2022All venues open 7 days a week except Sundari Chok in Patan (closes at 2:30PM on Monday, closed on Tuesday)Bahadur Shah Baithak, 10AM - 6 PMPatan Museum, 10:30AM - 4:30PM Nepal Art Council, 10AM - 6PMSiddhartha Art Gallery, 11AM - 5PMTaragaon Museum, 10 AM - 6PMPlease wear masks.

Ashish Dhakal

Atlas of art in a world in motion

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

A new normal

This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

Things eventually work out

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

In a democracy, governments come and go. But Nepal had become so entangled in the triangular affair between Sher Bahadur Deuba, K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal that it was becoming impossible to tell who was canoodling with whom.&nbsp;
All three had long since abandoned their party ideologies. Staying in power was all that mattered as they turned Nepal’s democracy into a kleptocracy.&nbsp;
For the past at least 20 years, we have warned them to mend their ways. Democracy had to be rescued from the hands of such kakistocrats. Waiting to pounce were monarchists and anarchists of every ilk, outcast Maoists, and supporters of a leader jailed for fraud. Tycoon Durga Prasai said his rally in March was to restore a Hindu monarchy, but he was just a temporary royalist whom even the ex-king spurned.&nbsp;
All this converged into a perfect storm on 8 September. Commandos shot and killed 19 innocent young people outside Parliament, the anger boiled over into targetted arson and vandalism the next day. The government fell, and Sushila Karki was elected interim prime minister through Discord.&nbsp;
With not just their monopoly on power but also their very lives in danger, the triumvirate was at first in total shock. Then came conspiracy theories and an inability to gauge the rage from decades of misrule.
Nepalis had assumed that after September the old parties would see their folly, and step down to hand over the leadership to a new generation. But 10 weeks later, there is no sign of any act of contrition.
In the NC, Sher Bahadur Deuba has sidelined the caretaker he himself appointed, Purna Bahadur Khadka, and is active again as the party prepares for a showdown in its Convention next month. The UML is proceeding with its own General Convention, where Oli is fully assured of a third term as party boss. Dahal sees no alternative to himself in his newly-forged Nepali Communist Party and is eagerly eyeing becoming prime minister for the fourth time.&nbsp;
The three leaders who everyone had hoped would finally retire have reincarnated. It is obscene for obsolete politicians to still hanker for power after all that has happened.&nbsp;
SHOCK AND AWE
The three leaders who have been prime minister a dozen times between themselves want to cling on, but this is not abnormal if we apply <a href="https://www.bbc.com/audio/play/w3cszmjz" target="_blank">Elisabeth Kübler-Ross</a>’ theory of the five stages of grief. The author of <a href="https://www.google.com.np/books/edition/On_Death_and_Dying/GlSq0AEACAAJ?hl=en" target="_blank">On Death and Dying</a> was analysing how people with terminal illness deal with their situation, but her 5-stage theory may be applicable to the way heads of the NC, UML and NCP are reacting to the shock of being overthrown — first with denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance.&nbsp;
On 9 September, distressed by what had befallen them, the three were in total denial. Then began the stage of anger. Oli ranted in public about a conspiracy to install an ‘unconstitutional’ interim government, blaming the Nepal Army, and vowing not to take part in election even while preparing for it.
The NC has decided to participate in elections, although it has to first sort out its internal power struggle. The NCP and the RSP have united with smaller parties and are actively preparing to campaign. GenZ groups are speaking in different voices, with Sudan Gurung and Miraj Dhungana openly trying to unseat an interim government they themselves installed.&nbsp;
The parties are now in the third stage: bargaining. Instead of asking himself in hindsight what he should have done, Oli wants Parliament restored but has also registered his party for elections. The UML won't allow elections unless the government lifts restrictions on Oli’s movement.
Likewise, GenZ groups are putting up conditions for supporting polls: arrest Oli and others. Karki is single-mindedly focussed on elections, even if it has to be put off by two months. The Army would also like polls on time because it does not want a repeat of September when it had to intervene to form the interim government.
If Karki’s 6-month mandate ends without elections, and if by then the GenZ’s trust in the interim government collapses, then UML and NC could plan to press for an all-party election government, restoration of Parliament which would then dissolve itself to appoint a new prime minister that Karki would also be agreeable to.
The current state of affairs makes it difficult to imagine elections being held on 5 March — mainly because polls would be incomplete without the three main parties taking part, and it is unlikely they would participate in polls that they are certain to lose since they have not reformed themselves. Amidst these ifs and buts, the role of the Army will be critical.&nbsp;
The fourth stage of grief is depression, and that is what will happen to the parties when the reality of their unpopularity finally hits them. Only then will they finally accept their fate, realise that it was all their own doing, and perhaps reinvent themselves.
Kübler-Ross said the five stages did not necessarily have to be in that order, or that sometimes there may only be three phases, which may be applicable to the parties. What is for sure is that the three leaders are in no mood to atone for their sins.
Rabin Giri is an editor with <a href="http://nepalnews.com/" target="_blank">nepalnews.com</a>.&nbsp;

maps

Finding your way in Nepal

Atlas of art in a world in motion

A new normal

Things eventually work out

My father’s son

Stages of denial