<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccbf29c7e80680e08bbedjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Radio Kapilvastu has been running programs on safety during Covid-19.</figcaption></figure>As Nepal experienced the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic just as the rest of the world did, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-a-rural-radio-thrived-in-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the value of local broadcasters</a> was amplified like never before. Large portions of rural and semi-urban Nepal depend upon local broadcasters for reliable information, a premium product during the pandemic.The pandemic has also affected the local radios in an existential crisis, with sources of incomes drying up as sponsors themselves experienced a business crisis. The situation was worsened with many community volunteers and staff falling sick. These coupled with lack of adequate connectivity and electricity supply added to the miseries of operation. The work-from-home solution did not work for the local radio stations, especially in technologically challenged areas.Disregarding the difficulties and withstanding a slow start, community radios continued to broadcast lifesaving information to the most vulnerable.Broadcasting media, especially community radio is the most accessible form of mass media in Nepal. Community radios operating in locations poorly served by the government and commercial broadcasters are the most important link between the marginalised persons and the public service providers, including government offices, especially in times of a disaster.Out of the approximately 800 FM radio stations in Nepal, close to half operate as not-for-profit media outlets, mostly in rural and semi-urban locations. Community radios cover almost the entire population of the country. This is not a small achievement by any yardstick, especially when contrasted with Nepal’s fledgling governance and human rights situation.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccbf59c7e80680e08bbeejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The pandemic also brought to the fore the gaps in the Nepali media ecosystem and the community radio sector.Next year, the Nepali broadcasting sector will be marking an important milestone. It will be 25 years since the first non-governmental broadcaster Radio Sagarmatha was founded in 1997. By the virtue of being the first non-governmental broadcaster in all of South Asia, Radio Sagarmatha has contributed significantly to Nepal’s fame in the world of broadcasting media.It is, however, ironic that despite its elevated profile in the country and to some extent internationally, the community radio sector has been left to its own devices. In the lack of any legal recognition by way of a community radio policy and the absence of relevant laws and regulations, the sector is beset with maladies and malpractices. Community radios all over South Asia suffer either a ‘no-policy’ or ‘poor-policy’ situation, and Nepal happens to fall under the latter category.As the sector gradually comes to term with the pandemic, it is time that renewed attention is given to the call for ‘community radio friendly’ policies. In most of Nepal’s neighborhood, community radios are controlled by applying unreasonable restrictions in terms of transmission power, content, advertisement space and so on, thereby tempting sections of the sector to think that no-policy is better than poor-policy.However, appropriate policies and regulations can help resolve some of the main problems that prevent the sector from operating at its full capacity and potential, especially at times of emergencies. Distance broadcasting, decentralised production and provisions for remote broadcasting are topics to be pursued in this regard. It’s high time to bring in the idea of emergency broadcasting with a clear strategy and timeline. This has policy as well as resource implications, that have to be sorted out.Connection between policy and practice is often direct and deep. As with every disaster, the consequences of this pandemic too have been more devastating for those that were already vulnerable in the communities. Reviewing and refining of strategies and practices of the stations are required to correctly address these situations.The capacity of community radios to be inclusive is strongly linked to the way NGOs and cooperatives— which happen to be operating the greatest number of community radios in Nepal— are structured. Any discussion about enhancing access to community broadcasting needs to be coupled with revising the way non-governmental organisations are set up.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccbf89c7e80680e08bbefjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="1280"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The need for strengthening further effective grassroots communications mechanisms so that voices hitherto unheard can be to be heard, has been even more amplified by the dreadful pandemic. Community radios are often the only way to bring perspectives of those living in poverty into the decision-making processes. Losing community stations to a disaster will mean losing the most critical communication link with a vulnerable population. The support received from national and international actors, has thankfully prevented that from happening, so far.Community radios must continue doing what they are meant to do, which is to provide correct, appropriate and relevant information to the communities in dialects and languages that are best understood locally. At the same time and collectively as a sector, the rest of the actors in the media ecosystem need to step up advocacy for policy reform.The rise of radicalism— in the forms of populist nationalism, religion or economic development— is causing a shrinking of space for civil society actors. They are either chased or co-opted. The well-known activist and author Arundhati Roy once wrote that "there's really no such thing as the 'voiceless'. There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard”. It is clear that efforts from various quarters are still afoot towards this end. Community radios can and must try to change the status quo.Suman Basnet is the Regional Director of the World Association of Community Radio Broadcaster, AMARC (Asia-Pacific).

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Tuning into the radio in Nepal

<figure><img width="800" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3a19c7e80680e07bb51jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Sona Khatik in the studio of Kapilvastu Community Radio where she is Station Manager. She broke her leg while riding her bicycle to her studio last week.</figcaption></figure>Sona Khatik was still studying in Grade 12 when she found her calling in life: to be a radio broadcaster. She ran a Tharu language program that was not just a hobby, she needed the income to support her family.Soon, Khatik’s mellifluous voice became a familiar sound in many households in this Tarai district. Even as an intern, she read the news, conducting programs on farming and income generation – news people could use.Since then, she has juggled her passion for radio with college, and got a masters in media and journalism. Khatik then worked her way up the ranks, and is now Station Manager at Kapilvastu Community Radio.  It has not been easy for Sona Khatik: she is a woman, she is from a Dalit family with few means. But she believes that it was precisely these attributes that made her so determined to succeed. <figure><img width="634" height="490" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3a39c7e80680e07bb52jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As the whole country went into an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/economic-cost-of-5-months-of-nepal-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/economic-cost-of-5-months-of-nepal-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEx_IX_ntlVK7VvYtpsIoO3NiZrJQ">economic standstill</a> with the Covid-19 lockdown six months ago, life became even more difficult. Some radio stations were forced to close, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-puts-nepals-media-in-intensive-care/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-puts-nepals-media-in-intensive-care/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGmA0VM1mHgAn-KrWT4EHqaiiYQ4w">many journalists are out of a job</a>. But Kapilvastu Community Radio has not just survived, it is now earning even higher revenue than before the lockdown.  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-valley-back-to-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-valley-back-to-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFd_tKjhaQGjMICuI_Icifu1GNxew">After the nationwide lockdown</a> in March, Kapilvastu became a Covid-19 hotspot because of its proximity to the Indian border. Businesses started to shut, advertising revenue fell, and it was difficult to keep paying out staff salaries.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-prepares-for-economic-fallout-of-pandemic/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-prepares-for-economic-fallout-of-pandemic/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5UnRy34Gu-7gPkEo5J5kpQJZ4uw">Nepal prepares for economic fallout of pandemic</a>, Kaustubh DhitalAs a member of the Association of Community Radio Broadcasters Nepal (ACORAB), Khatik attended many zoom meetings in which other radio station managers talked about being forced to make cost cuts, lay off staff, and reduce air time.“I was really worried. How was a small station like ours going to survive,” Khatik recalls thinking. “I decided we could not let our community down. Our station has a public service mandate, we needed to give our listeners accurate information on the virus and how to stop its spread.” <figure><img width="1000" height="653" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3a59c7e80680e07bb53jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As station manager, she was honest with her staff: they would have to work without salaries if the radio commercials stopped coming in. But she assured them that she would try her best to pay them. They were willing to work for up to six months without pay if necessary. “We would rather support the community than just stay at home doing nothing,” they told her.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-puts-nepals-media-in-intensive-care/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-puts-nepals-media-in-intensive-care/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGmA0VM1mHgAn-KrWT4EHqaiiYQ4w">Lockdown puts media in intensive care</a>, Nepali TimesKhatik talked things over with the radio’s board chair Tulsiram Yadav, and strategised about how to turn the crisis into an opportunity. They decided to reach out to the community to create more relevant programming, and to gain more young listeners.For Community Radio Kapilvastu, the lockdown has been a boon. It has gained new advertisers, created more programs, and expanded to a new audience of young listeners. Within the first month of the lockdown, the radio station had produced three dozen jingles in four languages (Nepali, Tharu, Bhojpuri and Awadhi) that spread awareness about the coronavirus. The jingles were so effective, they soon got sponsors from local non-profit groups and even private companies.  “The support was overwhelming, and quite unexpected,” Khatik says. “When I started to reach out to other sponsors not a single one of them declined.” <figure><img width="720" height="394" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3a89c7e80680e07bb54jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With the income, Khatik could regularly pay salary to staff, and also get them to add new segments and radio packages to the daily broadcast. People were all cooped up at home, and they welcomed the new infotainment programs in multiple languages, and listenership grew. This meant that even more advertisers were interested to buy transmission slots.  Says Khatik: “There is this wrong notion in Nepali society that women cannot and are not capable of taking leadership positions. We have proven them wrong,” says Khatik proudly. “We have shown that we have the entrepreneurial spirit and creative ability to be even more flexible in times of crisis.”Indeed, many other media companies in Kapilvastu are surprised how this one community radio station has not just managed to survive, but has expanded programming and its listenership.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/community-radio-provides-women-companionship-and-advice,3485" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/community-radio-provides-women-companionship-and-advice,3485&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGhsOhsPFFVdgmLMQb6caVmXWidDA">Feminine FM,</a> Emma Stolarski<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15913#.WHsmvdJ967" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D15913%23.WHsmvdJ967&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599549651806000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHw1ZgtCr66bdo-Ou_937rHyGVBlA">Women on air</a>, Kong Yen LinKapilvastu Community Radio has also filled the void left by schools being closed for six months. The station mobilised teachers to conduct classes over the radio for free. Soon enough, Khatik was contacted by non-profits, local governments and the district branch of the Nepal Teacher’s Association. Today, Kapilvastu FM is broadcasting classes every day to students in Grades 4-8. Sona Khatik’s voice is now so trusted and recognised that when she once voiced an announcement by the local police asking people to obey lockdown rules, they called to ask her to lift the lockdown because it was causing economic hardship.“They did not realise I was just reading out a public service announcement from the police. I had not declared the lockdown myself,” smiles Khatik.  The radio team which was willing to forego half a year’s salary was now getting paid in full, so staff decided to contribute to a fund to help free feeding programs for the poorest families in the neighbourhood.   We ask Khatik why she thinks her station has thrived when other media in Nepal are struggling. She replies: “I think it is because we engage with our community, we go out into the field and record people’s voices and do not bring politicians to the studio. And I think it is also because they know it is a station run by a woman.”It has been so hectic, that while bicycling back and forth from home to the studio one day last week, Khatik slipped and fractured her leg. There was no way she was going to be home-bound, so she uses crutches to get to the station and back.  With a chair supporting her plastered leg, Sona Khatik reminisces about the old days: “I cannot believe that it has been 12 years since I started out as an intern. Now here I am. I am reminded of how important it is to listen to your employees, no matter what their position. A good leader values every member, and recognises the importance of team work. It is more than luck that makes a company successful, especially during a crisis.”

How a rural radio thrived in Nepal lockdown

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b6ffa9c7e80680e060052jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1100" height="1269"/><figcaption>Illustration: DIWAKAR CHHETRI</figcaption></figure>Prime Minister K P Oli spent 14 years in jail for opposing the Panchayat absolute monarchy. He was one of the main drivers of the democratisation of the UML party, always speaking out in support of human rights, press freedom and pluralism.Whether it was to oppose Maoist violence during the conflict, or its anti-democratic behaviour after 2006, Oli was the outspoken one in the party. During constitution drafting, his was the loudest voice against ethnicity-based federalism, and later against the Indian blockade. The people rewarded him for his stance by giving the unified party a majority in 2017.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=38680&amp;preview_nonce=5c160a3237&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rule by law,</a> Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/spooking-nepalis-by-snooping-on-them/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Spooking Nepalis by snooping on them</a>, Mukesh PokhrelBut once in power, Oli has lead the charge to curtail democracy, muzzle the media and to constrict open society. After he became prime minister, he moved  the anti-money laundering office, the Revenue Investigation Department and National Investigation Bureau under the PMO.His administration has taken one step after another to introduce bills that go against everything he has stood for: the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/culture-revolution/">Guthi Bill</a>, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/long-shadows/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Media Council Bill</a>, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-human-rights-act/">Human Rights</a> Bill, among others. But after <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/own-worst-enemy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">strong protests</a> on the streets and media, the government was forced to withdraw those bills.However, the controversial <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/spooking-nepalis-by-snooping-on-them/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Special Services Bill</a> will allow investigation agencies to eavesdrop on citizens and tap phones without court order. This not only goes against the fundamental right of every citizen for privacy, but such surveillance is prone to misuse.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/zip-up/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Zip up</a>, Rameshwar Bohora<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/a-creeping-coup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A creeping coup</a>, EditorialThe other Information Technology Bill tries to curtail the citizens’ right to free expression by legislating stiff penalties for posts on Facebook or YouTube, and has been voted by a parliamentary committee. (<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rule-by-law/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">See editorial</a>)  This bill is against the Constitution, and the way it has been voted on without taking into account amendments and changes suggested by stakeholders, is undemocratic as well.Both bills are delayed because the winter session itself has had to be pushed back by the deadlock over the choice of the new speaker to replace <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-rise-and-fall-of-comrade-mahara/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a>. Parliament is a casualty in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/which-way-nepali-politics-in-2020/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">power struggle at the top of the ruling NCP</a> between Oli and his co-chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal, which is also affecting ratification of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/a-millennium-challenge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Millennium Challenge Corporation</a> (MCC) project and other legislation.Oli’s attempts to ram though the laws shows that he is increasingly on the defensive, and wants to strengthen his grip on power. Asks one NCP Central Committee member: “Oli is being criticised more from within his own party more than from the opposition. So who is he trying to defend himself from?”

No freedom after expression

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b6ffd9c7e80680e060053jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="1058"/><figcaption>Illustration: SUBHAS RAI</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s ruling unified Marxist-Leninist-Maoists have in the past year <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">incrementally constricted freedom of expression</a>, thinking no one will notice if they do it bit by bit.It <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/zip-up/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">has not gone unnoticed</a>. There is an uproar in social media and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/ifj-asks-nepal-to-revoke-media-gag/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">journalists have been speaking out</a>, but the government is using its numerical might in Parliament <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/suppressed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">to pass bills that blatantly flout</a> constitutional guarantees of basic individual freedoms.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=38663&amp;preview_nonce=77341ce79f&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">No freedom after expression</a>, Kiran nepal2019 saw <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">censorship in installments</a>, and it started with a revision of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/strongman-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the Penal Code</a> that criminalised ridicule, satire, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/press-freedom-must-be-defended-by-its-maximum-application/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">photoshopped images of politicians</a>, and even banned reporters publishing personal information of public figures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-undermining-free-expression-hrw/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Media Council Bill</a>, a brainchild of Information Minister Gokul Banskota, sought to criminalise free speech on vague grounds.The latest attack is the Information Technology Bill which was passed by a Parliament committee this week, and is sure to be voted through when the winter session begins. It has hefty fines and jail terms for any content deemed ‘offensive or demeaning’ -- infringement of Clause 83 is a fine of Rs1 million and/or jail term of up to five years, and any content that violates Clause 94 (ridicule and hate speech) carries a fine of Rs1.5 million and/or 5 years in jail. Strangely, the punishment for social media infractions are in fact much heavier than physical assault, libel or defamation in the legacy media.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/spooking-nepalis-by-snooping-on-them/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Spooking Nepalis by snooping on them</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/censuring-censorship/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Censuring censorship</a>, Editorial'It is wrong for this bill that is supposed to regulate Information Technology to be misused to address issues for which there are existing laws,' wrote Kantipur in a strong editorial on Wednesday. 'Since the definition of defamation is so broad, this law will have a dampening effect on free expression, and foster self-censorship.'Indeed, what constitutes objectionable content is intentionally so broadly defined that anyone can be hauled in for any online post at any time. There is even a new directive against satire painted in the backs of trucks. The government has not even waited for this Act to be passed to arbitrarily put people behind bars for Facebook posts, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-has-press-freedom-but-no-freedom-after-press/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">YouTube satire</a>, or beat up someone for posting a video that painted an unflattering image of the Tourism Minister.For formality’s sake, the bill was put to debate in the parliamentary committee, and the opposition Nepali Congress did push several amendments, none of which were accepted by NCP lawmakers. Now, the arithmetic of the full House means that the IT Act is sure to become law. Fundamental rights of citizens, guaranteed by the 2015 Constitution, are going to be severely curtailed.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Creeping control over the press in Nepal</a>, Ajay Pradhan<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gagging the press in installments</a>, Sewa Bhattarai“It is the government that will decide what you can say and what you cannot,” says NC MP Gagan Thapa in an online video. “Just because a government has a majority, it does not mean it can violate the basic principle of the Constitution.”But Thapa is a voice in the wilderness, none of the other opposition politicians have bothered to speak up in defence of freedom of expression even when the attack is so systematic. Under the new law, internet service providers will be liable for content of users, and global platforms like Facebook, Twitter and TikTok would be required to register in Nepal.Other provisions of the IT bill would <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/spooking-nepalis-by-snooping-on-them/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">allow the state to snoop on anyone’s data</a>, tap phones and intercept emails. Politicians want their privacy protected from media, but do not respect the individual’s right to privacy.The ruling NCP seems to have decided that it can pressure the press by withholding advertising, making media moguls beholden to it for business, and tightening regulation.For example, the NCP-affiliated Press Organisation surprised many by being inaugurated this week at the prime minister’s residence, where journalists took oaths to follow the party line on socialism. At least they did not swear by communism.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/zip-up/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Zip up</a>, Rameshwar Bohora<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/a-creeping-coup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A creeping coup</a>, EditorialThe state sees the free-wheeling nature of the Internet and its impact on public opinion as more of a threat. Hence the attempt to restrict critical content on social media <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-message-is-the-medium/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">as its reach grows</a>. More than 90% of Nepalis now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-news/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">have mobile phones</a>, half of them are smart phones, and this proportion is growing. The Internet has become synonymous with Facebook as almost everyone with a smartphone has an account on that platform.Why is Nepal’s kakistocracy in such a tearing hurry to pass this bill when much more urgent legislation on federalism and other laws languish in Parliament? Journalists and citizens may not be arrested right away, but clearly the intention is detention. This is not rule of law, but a draconian rule by law.<h2>10 years ago this week</h2>Ten years ago Nepali Times marked the end of a year and a decade of war, and tried to be hopeful about the future. As feared, the 2010-2019 was a lost decade. Excerpt from a publisher’s note on the front page of issue<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/483" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> #483 </a>of 1-6 January 2010:Back in 2000, we had no idea just how dramatic the decade ahead was going to be. The first (nearly) 500 issues of this newspaper coincided with a period of great transformation. Guerrillas went from the bullet to the ballot and emerged as the single largest party, and the most inclusive assembly in our country's history was elected. Nepal became a model for non-violent political change: a case study that proved revolutions don't necessarily have to be bloody. Imagine how much more progress we would have made if there had been a stable political climate and a more accountable government committed to basic needs. Let's hope that in the next decade we will live in less interesting times.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b6fff9c7e80680e060054jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="332" height="500">That our coverage will be less obsessed with the political quarrel of the day, and celebrate the ability of individual Nepalis to overcome adversity. We hope that by 2020 we will have made up for lost time.

Rule by law

<figure><img width="1024" height="683" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101132/636a22909c7e80680e041795jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Arundhati Roy with Maati Ke Laal in her flat in Delhi. Photo: SHAHIDUL ALAM/DRIK/MAJORITY WORLD</figcaption></figure>Indian author Arundhati Roy <a href="https://pen-international.org/news/arundhati-roy-writes-to-shahidul-alam-day-of-the-imprisoned-writer-2018">wrote a letter</a> to imprisoned Bangladeshi <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/gallery/2018/oct/15/jailed-bangladesh-photojournalist-shahidul-alam">photographer Shahidul Alam</a> on the 100th day of his incarceration on 14 November, which was also the <a href="https://pen-international.org/">PEN International</a>’s Day of the Imprisoned Writer, 2018. Alam was <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/nov/20/bangladeshi-activist-shahidul-alam-released-from-prison">released on bail</a> on 20 November, and he wrote back to Arundhati. Nepali Times brings you both letters below:  --Dear Shahidul,It’s been more than a 100 days now since they took you away. Times aren’t easy in your country or in mine, so when we first heard that unknown men had abducted you from your home, of course we feared the worst. Were you going to be ‘encountered’ (our word in India for extra-judicial murder by security forces) or killed by ‘non-state actors’? Would your body be found in an alley, or floating in some shallow pond on the outskirts of Dhaka? When your arrest was announced and you surfaced alive in a police station, our first reaction was one of sheer joy.Am I really writing to you? Perhaps not. If I were, I wouldn’t need to say very much beyond, ‘Dearest Shahidul, no matter how lonely your prison cell, know that we have our eyes on you. We are looking out for you.’Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-100th-day-in-jail/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam 100th day in Jail</a>If I were really writing to you I wouldn’t need to tell you how your work, your photographs and your words, has, over decades, inscribed a vivid map of humankind in our part of the world—its pain, its joy, its violence, its sorrow and desolation, its stupidity, its cruelty, its sheer, crazy complicatedness—onto our consciousness. Your work is lit up, made luminous, as much by love as it is by a probing, questioning anger born of witnessing at first hand the things that you have witnessed. Those who have imprisoned you have not remotely understood what it is that you do. We can only hope, for their sake, that someday they will.Your arrest is meant to be a warning to your fellow citizens: ‘If we can do this to Shahidul Alam, think of what we can do to the rest of you—all you nameless, faceless, ordinary people. Watch. And be afraid.’The formal charge against you is that you have criticised your country in your (alleged) Facebook posts. You have been arrested under the Section 57 of Bangladesh’s infamous Information and Communications Technology Act (ICT) which authorizes ‘the prosecution of any person who publishes, in electronic form, material that is fake and obscene; defamatory; tends to deprave and corrupt its audience; causes or may cause deterioration in law and order; prejudices the image of the state or a person; or causes or may cause hurt to religious belief’.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-photo-kathmandu-award/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shahidul Alam Photo Kathmandu award</a>, Alisha SettWhat sort of law is this, this absurd, indiscriminate, catch-all, fishing trawler type of law? What place does it have in a country that calls itself a democracy? Who has the right to decide what the correct ‘image of the state’ is, and should be? Is there only one legally approved and acceptable image of Bangladesh? Section 57 potentially criminalizes all forms of speech except blatant sycophancy. It’s an attack, not on intellectuals, but on intelligence itself. We hear that over the last five years more than 1200 journalists in Bangladesh have been charged under it, and that 400 trials are already underway.In India too, this sort of attack on our intelligence is becoming normalized. Our equivalent of Bangladesh’s ICT Act is the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act under which hundreds of people including students, activists, lawyers and academics are being arrested in wave after wave. The cases against them, like the one against you, are flimsy and ludicrous. Even the police know that they are likely to be acquitted by higher courts. But the hope is that by then, their spirits will have been broken by years in prison. The process is the punishment.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/freeshahidulalam/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#FreeShahidulAlam</a>So, as I write this letter to you, dear Shahidul, I am tempted to add, dear Sudha, dear Saibaba, dear Surendra, dear Shoma, dear Mahesh, dear Sudhir, dear Rona, dear Arun, dear Vernon, and also, dear Tariq, dear Aijaz, dear Aamir, dear Kopa, dear Kamla, dear Madavi, dear Maase, dear Raju, dear hundreds and hundreds of others.How is it possible for people to defend themselves against laws like these? It’s like having to prove one’s innocence before a panel of certified paranoics. Every argument only serves to magnify their paranoia and heighten their delusions.As both our countries hurtle towards general elections, we know that we can expect more arrests, more lynching, more killing, more bloggers hacked to death, more orchestrated ethnic, religious and caste conflagrations— more false-flag “terrorist” strikes, more assassinations of journalists and writers. Elections, we know, means fire in the ducts.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The death of democracy</a>, Aditya Adhikari Your Prime Minister, who claims to be a secular democrat, has announced that she will build 500 mosques with the billion dollars the Government of Saudi Arabia has donated to Bangladesh. These mosques are supposedly meant to disseminate the ‘correct’ kind of Islam.Here in India, our rulers have dropped all pretense of the secularism and socialism that are enshrined in our constitution. In order to distract attention from the catastrophic failures of governance and deepening popular resentment, as institution after institution—our courts, universities, banks, intelligence agencies—is pushed into crisis, the ruling power, (not the Government, but its holding company, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh,) is alternately cajoling and threatening the Supreme Court to pass an order clearing the decks for the construction of a giant Hindu temple on the site where the Babri Masjid once stood before it was demolished by a rampaging mob. It’s amazing how politicians’ piety peaks and troughs with election cycles.This is what we are up against, these neat definitions of the perfect nation, the perfect man, the perfect citizen, the perfect Hindu, the perfect Muslim. The postscript to this is the perfect majority and the satanic minority. The people of Europe and the Soviet Union have lived through the devastation that these sorts of ideas caused. They have suffered the matchless terror of neatness. Only recently Europe marked the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht—the event that marked the beginning of the Holocaust. There too it all began quite slowly. There too it began with elections. And there too the old murmurs have started up again.Here we’re going to witness our own scorched-earth elections in the coming days. They will use their fishing-trawler laws, they will jump at shadows to decimate the opposition.Fortunately, we are an irredeemably untidy people. And hopefully we will stand up to them in our diverse and untidy ways.Dear Shahidul, I believe the tide will turn. It will. It must. This foolish, shortsighted cruelty will give way to something kinder and more visionary. This particular malaise, this bout of ill-health that has engulfed our planet will pass.I hope to see you in Dhaka very soon.With loveArundhati <figure><img width="700" height="400" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101132/636a22929c7e80680e041796jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Shahidul Alam is released from the prision.</figcaption></figure>Dearest Arundhati,It was a letter I read and reread long before it appeared before my eyes. It was through layers of metal bars that I strained to listen to Rahnuma’s words. At over 130 decibels, the noise made by us screaming prisoners, straining to hear and be heard, was akin to a crowded stadium or a fire siren. As she repeated her words over and over again, I faintly heard, Arundhati. Letter. It was just over a hundred days that I had been incarcerated. A hundred days since I’d slept on my own bed, fed my fish, cycled down the streets of Dhaka. A hundred days since I’d pressed my shutter as I searched for that elusive light.Those words, screamed out but barely heard was the nourishment I needed. Did you write it by hand? What was the paper like? In this digital age, you probably used a keyboard. What font had you used? What point size? And the words. Words that you so gracefully string together. I relished the imagined words. Your words. I missed words as I missed my bed, my fish and Rahnuma’s touch. When they asked me what I needed in jail, books were on top of my list. The first lot of books came in. Mujib’s prison diaries, Schendel’s History of Bangladesh, and the book you’d given me when we last met, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness. I’d been meaning to read it ever since we said goodbye in Delhi, but our lives had been taken over by the immediacy of our struggles. Now I had the time.I imagined other letters. The one Shiv Viswanathan had written when Binayak Sen had been sentenced for sedition, or the one Rahgu Rai wrote asking that I be freed. But this one was not to a prime minister. It had been written for me. To me. There are no pigeons in Keraniganj, and sparrows are perhaps too small to carry letters. As I fed them from my window, I could imagine one carrying across a tiny wad of paper, carefully tied to its feet. Paper I would unfold gently, smoothing the creases. It would have been a letter I had read before it was written.I could read your letter, not because I remember you sitting across your wooden table in your open kitchen. Not because I remember you rubbing noses with Maati Ke Laal as she interrupted our chat, insisting on not being ignored. Not because of Sanjay’s book on Kashmir, which we had opened together. My reading relied on our shared legacies, on our collective griefs, on the struggles we both face as autocrats rule our lands. You have Kashmir and we have the Chittagong Hill Tracts. You have ‘encounters’ and we have ‘crossfire’. ‘Goom’ we both share. We both live in what are called democracies, though we know we lack voice.Your book weaves complex characters, the absurdities and the beauty that is India. It finds the calm within the chaos. A moment of kindness, within the grotesque injustice. I look around me and see hijras in the high security cells in Surjamukhi. Occasionally they walk out, their bright saris, glowing amidst the drab clothes of other prisoners. They remind me of your Anjum. Of your Saddam, as I see Koutuk da feeding the cats, making his way to those pretentiously named jail buildings, Jamuna, Meghna, Korotowa and Padma, seeking out the one that might have missed its meal. As I speak to prisoners falsely charged, and left to rot in a legal system that lets people be forgotten, and the Sharbahara man Tipu Biswas, his eyes glowing with passion, insisting on justice even in jail, I am reminded of  your Musa, defiant against the odds.It was here in Keraniganj that I met Badal Farazi, wrongfully charged by Indian courts, and eventually sent to Bangladesh. Ten years in jail for a crime, the courts knew he could not have committed. My government too scared to speak against this utter wrongness of Indian justice. Too scared to upset the big brother. Keraniganj was where top terror Joseph had been. Released through a presidential pardon, whisked away in the middle of the night and sent overseas. In my case it had taken six attempts before bail had finally been granted. They had tried to block my bail just as they had tried to stop me from sleeping on a bed, or getting access to a doctor. Even after bail was granted, they had tried to prevent my release. But we triumphed in the end, and we held hands and sang songs as I left the jail gate. The case still hangs over my head and the threat of bail being withdrawn is the threat they hope will silence my tongue, my pen and my camera. But the ink in our pens still run. The keyboards still clatter.Yesterday we were in Dhakeswari Mandir. It was Taposh and Haimanti’s daughter Riddhi’s ‘mukhe bhat’, her first solid food. As they lit candles and circled the tulshi plant, I wondered if they would dig up the temple because they had heard of a mosque underneath. One more mosque to add to the 500 our prime minister has promised using Saudi money.They swore in the new cabinet yesterday ‘I will faithfully discharge the duties upon which I am about to enter according to law: That I will bear true faith and allegiance to Bangladesh: And that I will not allow my personal interest to influence the discharge of my duties as a member of Parliament.’ Given that their very means of being there was based on an election where every rule had been flouted, the constitution abused, to protect their personal interest, this oath was particularly perverse. A slap on our face with sandals, a terrible insult in South Asia. They will sit in their duty-free cars, flags waving. They, the biggest lawbreakers in the land, will sit on boards of banks and schools. They will pass the new laws. They took their oath as a mother of four was writhing in hospital, gang-raped by party faithful, for having the audacity of voting the ‘wrong’ way.But yes, Arundhati, the tide will turn, and the nameless, faceless people will rise. They will rise against the entire state machinery, now reduced to servility. They will rise as they did in ’71. They, who never clamoured for muktijoddha honours, who never claimed benefits for their children, who never wore Mujib coats in public. They, their children and their children’s children, will rise to bring back the core principles they had fought for. We will have secularism. We will have democracy. We will have social equality. We will win back this land.I’ll see you in Dhaka. A humongous hug awaits.Love,Shahidul Dhaka. 7th January 2019First published in <a href="http://www.newagebd.net/article/61212/they-will-rise-shahidul-alam-replies-to-arundhati-roy">The New Age</a>

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Rule by law

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