<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>

Arundhati and Shahidul write to each other

Architecture can be a powerful agent of change, shaping not just spaces but the way people live, connect, and experience the world.&nbsp; For Nepal, which is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">gifted by nature</a> and rich in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/ambassador-fund-cultural-preservation-nepal,2092">cultural heritage</a>, &nbsp;reviving rural architecture with modern amenities could hold the key to more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-sustainable-tourism-means-in-practice">sustainable tourism </a>that benefits local people more. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/bayalpata-hospital-in-nepal-wins-global-design-award">Design and architecture</a> are amazing tools to create a unique experience for visitors,” says Spanish architect Tomeu Esteva of Esteva i Esteva Architecture Studio. “Difficult destinations have beautiful hotels with design and comfort.” Esteva was in Kathmandu with his colleagues at an event organised by the Spanish Honorary Consulate at Dwarika’s Hotel last week to showcase buildings which Nepali architects can adapt with local material and design inputs.&nbsp; Rural architecture holds a unique significance: it is more than a shelter and must reflect <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/inking-an-idenity">local identity, culture</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-humla-from-heritage-loss">heritage</a>. An area’s natural and cultural harmony can be upset by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-protected-areas-from-infrastructure?fbclid=IwAR1wK0MDFlFST_2EYb3f54LS4-fPt6rYfLG1DJ1JaQsU3w8-ezyXIxGOqzk">poorly planned development</a>, speakers at the event said, but the environment can be improved and revitalised by well-integrated structures.&nbsp; Another Spanish architect, Belen Moneo, has designed hotels at elevations of 3,700m in her home country Spain that supply natural spring water spas. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/lost-in-reconstruction">Creativity in construction</a> must be encouraged. Rural architecture always shows possibilities of what we can do better,” Moneo explains, adding that designs must enhance <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-healing-power-of-nature">the beauty of nature</a> and give a natural feel at a time when steel, glass and cement dominate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake">urban design</a>.&nbsp; This is why the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/weaving-nature-into-craft">use of natural products</a> such as bamboo, local timber, straw and rammed earth are in demand from customers who want a fresh eco-friendly look encouraged in construction of rural architectural structures. The demand for boutique hotels has increased world over, with &nbsp;more and more tourists favouring aesthetics, experience and comfort over price. While creativity is an important part of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/architecture-for-mountains">construction and architecture</a>, incentives to build and use <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Building,370">rural construction materials</a> still remain minimal, and Moneo emphasises the significance of design and execution.&nbsp; Esteva helped design the Vana Retreat in Dehradun that kept the natural environment in focus, with the structure giving an elaborate aesthetic experience to visitors. Another example is Hotel Las Mercedes in the Dominican Republic which was designed and constructed by Moneo and the company she co-founded Moneo Brock, respecting and revaluing the traditional architecture of the area. Hotels providing such experience could attract tourists and revenue. The Spanish ambassador to Nepal Juan Antonio March Pujol said, “The role of architecture and architects in developing tourism is crucial, not only in urban areas but rural settings as well.”&nbsp; The concept of rural boutique hotels gained traction in Spain during the 1990s, particularly in regions like Majorca with economic and environmental sustainability as the main focus. In Nepal <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/guiding-nepal-s-tourism-industry">the tourism industry</a> directly employs about 1 million people, and makes up about 8% of the country’s GDP. In Nepal, the stone homes of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviving-himalayan-vulture-and-culture">Mustang and Manang</a>, bamboo and mud structures of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">the Tarai</a>, and the Kathmandu Valley’s terra cotta tile skylines, graceful temples, and tranquil bahal courtyards are all examples of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs">Nepal’s traditional architecture</a>.&nbsp; Nepali architect Sarosh Pradhan has been working for the past eight years on the Brakka Village project in Manang Valley north of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna">the Annapurnas</a>. Other examples of this kind of rural architecture for high-end tourism are the Shinta Mani Hotel in Mustang and Khumbu Lodge below <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a>. Says Pradhan, “There are places in Nepal that radiate purity and embrace simplicity. Creating projects in such settings require deep reflection and thoughtful planning.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421030444_a07a23f6b60fa89c0f35b9dc1aaf19937da4881e6bfb2e1858f3c27dff91729f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250421030444_a07a23f6b60fa89c0f35b9dc1aaf19937da4881e6bfb2e1858f3c27dff91729f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="2184" loading="lazy" alt="A new architecture for Nepal's tourism"> </figure>  Rural architecture is not easy, and sometimes more expensive. Inflation, energy efficiency, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-who-stay">the climate crisis</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">increased costs of living</a> pose obstacles to sustainable rural architecture. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/forgotten-international-starchitects-in-nepal">Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal</a>, Anne Feenstra and Varun S Bapu Esteva says faith and trust between client and architect is necessary for any project to be successful. He adds that architects must practice being humble, the process of designing always involves learning and not imposing their ideas on clients. Nepal is uniquely positioned for the growth of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hiking-up-the-benefits-of-tourism">rural tourism</a> because of its stunning countryside as well as its internationally renowned traditions in holistic wellness. Creating infrastructure that is small, thoughtfully planned and that respects both tradition and contemporary hospitality standards is crucial. “Projects in Nepal can be made cost effective by using materials from houses that have been brought down,” says Esteva. “Pilot projects involving <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/local-government-by-the-people-for-the-people-of-the-people">local people </a>and simple designing also helps the process.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/vacant-homes-become-homestays-in-nepal">The growth of homestays in Nepal</a> is a step in the right direction, but they are still a bit too rustic for the international traveller who also wants comfort and is willing to pay extra for it. Upgrading the facilities in homestays and ensuring that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-archive-of-nepali-heritage">architectural heritage</a> of the locality is preserved using locally sourced building material could allow owners to charge more. Says Sangita Shrestha of Dwarika’s Hotel, “Our effort is to build upon rural architecture by empowering local communities and using what is available locally. We can fine tune and encourage indigenous design and training.” The vision goes beyond just boosting the economy, it is about building a future where tourism helps villages grow in a healthy and lasting way. Instead of using up resources, it gives back to the land and the people. It supports local communities by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/staying-in-nepal-to-create-jobs"> creating jobs</a>, improving infrastructure, and protecting natural beauty. When done right, tourism can be a tool for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/progress-and-or-preservation">preserving culture and nature</a>, not harming them. Architects must therefore see their work as more than just designing buildings, they also need to care deeply about people and places, especially in rural areas that can benefit the most.&nbsp; With global interest in sustainable and off-the-beaten-path travel increasing, Nepal stands at the cusp of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/missing-out-on-nepal-s-tourism-potential">tourism transformation</a> that values community-driven, eco-conscious hospitality. A mix of modern ideas and traditional knowledge could transform rural tourism in Nepal. Says Shrestha, “Young architects should spend time with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local and indigenous communities</a>, listen to their stories, and learn from their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/life-and-livelihood-in-remote-nepal">ways of living</a>. These communities have deep knowledge about the land, materials, and climate. If this wisdom is used in new designs, it can help create tourism spaces that truly benefit everyone.” &nbsp;

A new architecture for Nepal's tourism

Extract from an addendum to Nepal's Two Wars, Chapter 2 in the updated edition of Essays on Nepal: Past and Present by Sam Cowan, a retired British Army general with a long association with the Gurkhas. The book was first published in 2018, and republished earlier this month by FinePrint exclusively on Amazon. The addendum details a one-to-one conversation the author had in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8884">Royal Palace </a>with the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">King Gyanendra</a> in November 2002 just after he had taken his initial steps on the road that ultimately led to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14681">the abolition of the monarchy</a> in Nepal in 2008. In the early evening of September 16, 2002, in my role as Colonel Commandant of the Brigade of Gurkhas, I had my second and last official audience with King Gyanendra to give him an update on the Brigade’s activities over the previous 12 months. I had some 6 or 7 such audiences with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra</a>.&nbsp; These were official affairs with the British ambassador of the day present, along with key <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12233">palace officials</a> and a representative from Nepal's Foreign Ministry. The two monarchs were very different in character and temperament, but both treated me with the utmost civility and made the audiences as relaxed and easy for me as possible.&nbsp; It is, however, worth recording that when the official business had been covered, King Birendra, with a twinkle in his eye, often ended by asking, “Now General, what’s the gossip in London?” The second audience with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8026">King Gyanendra </a>was my last official act in uniform. We came back to Kathmandu in the first week of November (after treks) to stay for a few nights with our Defence Attaché before heading back to the UK. Waiting for me was a message from the Palace saying that King Gyanendra would like to meet me informally: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6933">no uniform</a> and no ambassador.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080420_f9046f9882d4481781d14f2b64f18c7fbbea62562e1d74e3465de6d01fb43750.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250421080420_f9046f9882d4481781d14f2b64f18c7fbbea62562e1d74e3465de6d01fb43750" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2406" loading="lazy" alt="Gyanendra crowned page 1"> <figcaption>Nepali Times Special Edition of 6-14 June 2001 with enthronement of Gyanendra. </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_21333d6ae21828eb47fe3f849438d215fe2804460d47bb2896ef4aee4e895ad2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250421080424_21333d6ae21828eb47fe3f849438d215fe2804460d47bb2896ef4aee4e895ad2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1857" loading="lazy" alt="Royal massacre"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 22-29 June 2001 covering the royal massacre after which Gyanendra became king. </figcaption> </figure>  Although I had no idea what the purpose of the meeting might be, events in Kathmandu since I last saw the king put me on edge. On October 4, 2002, Gyanendra had dismissed Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, allegedly for failing to hold <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-goes-on-in-nepal-s-elections">elections</a>. He had put in place a new prime minister and a cabinet personally selected by him. When I heard the news on my travels, the people I met were generally supportive of the king’s actions. There was a general view that something had to be done, the country was going nowhere, and the king deserved his chance, not least to solve<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal"> the Maoist </a>problem. Back in Kathmandu, views were not so sanguine. The chosen prime minister, Lokendra Bahadur Chand, was a relic from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">the Panchayat period</a> whose party had failed to win a single seat in the last elections held in 1999. Some of the chosen cabinet ministers had, to put it mildly, dubious reputations, and others had no record of proven competence in any field. There was a fear that the king’s real motive in dismissing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement">Deuba</a> was to start to reverse the democratic gains made since 1990. I informed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-britain-mark-centenary-of-1923-treaty">the British ambassador</a> about the invitation. He was strongly against accepting it, which was probably the clinching reason for my decision to do the polite thing and accept it. On the evening of November 7, 2002, I presented myself at the royal palace, alone and in civilian attire.&nbsp; As in the past, the Military Secretary, Major General Vivek Shah, met and escorted me into the presence of the monarch. This time, however, he was politely asked to leave the room and shut the door behind him. King Gyanendra greeted me warmly and invited me to sit down.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal"> The ghost of monarchy returns to haunt Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_e382af945d0ad2a04ae41fabe5393f793dd10f54cb1220f111c7c9e7423eb558.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250421080424_e382af945d0ad2a04ae41fabe5393f793dd10f54cb1220f111c7c9e7423eb558" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="993" loading="lazy" alt="Gyanendra coup"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 4-10 February 2005 after king Gyanendra's coup imposed media censorship. anendra became king. </figcaption> </figure>  I had wondered, and to be truthful, had worried, not just about the purpose of the meeting, but about how the conversation might start and develop. I reduced my resolve to two points: be polite but speak candidly. The latter resolve was quickly put to the test with the king’s opening words: “Sam, [in previous meetings it had been ‘General’, you walk the highways and byways of this land more than most, tell me what the common man is thinking?” &nbsp;“Your Majesty, I have no idea what they are thinking, but they are waiting.” “Waiting?” “Yes, Your Majesty, they are waiting to see whether what you did some weeks ago in appointing your own prime minister and cabinet ministers is going to make any difference to their lives or whether it is just going to be more Kathmandu hot air.” “Everything is going to be difficult and is going to take time, a lot of time.” “Your Majesty, time is the one thing you don’t have. You must act quickly and decisively to take advantage of the opportunity you have created. Everyone knows that you have appointed these new ministers. Why don’t you get them in here one by one and tell them that they have three months to deliver a programme in their area of responsibility that is going to make a difference to people’s lives? Most will fail to do so. Sack them! It will be a powerful signal of your strong intent to deliver real change.” I can express the opening of our conversation in this way because just about every word is still etched in my mind. The king’s response to my last quoted words was to challenge me to give an example of something that could be delivered quickly. I can give a verbatim record of what I said in response to this unexpected challenge: “Health posts, Your Majesty, there is no shortage of them throughout the country as building them has been one of the sources of local corruption, but very few have any medicine to issue at present or have skilled people to assess and meet medical needs. Your Majesty, children are dying for lack of a few pills. Given the right priority, over a period, say of six months, every health post could be fully stocked with medicine and manned with trained people. This is something I could help to lead for you as I know it would have strong international backing. At last, people would know that you mean business.” As I warmed to the theme, I could see no sign of the king having any enthusiasm for the idea, and I quickly disengaged as it dawned on me, as it had clearly dawned on the king, that the reason for the deficiencies in health posts was to prevent any Maoist combatant from gaining access to any <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/tech-away/nepal-s-health-tech-industry-is-here-to-stay">medical support</a>, and if this meant people suffering, so be it. The subject of the Maoist insurgency inevitably came up, and I took the opportunity to elaborate on what is written in the final four paragraphs of the article above. I advised King Gyanendra that, self-evidently, since there were three parties in the conflict—him, the Maoists, and the political parties—it was imperative that he form an alliance with one of them, preferably the political parties; otherwise, he would find himself isolated, as the other two parties would inevitably, at some stage, form their own alliance. However, it quickly became apparent that the king’s mind was on a totally different track. On the Maoists, he told me that he had channels open to them, but he was scathing about the political party leaders. He made it clear that they would be waiting for a very long time before he gave any power back to them, and that is a polite way of expressing the actual words he used, but “crawling through the door” is a phrase which has stuck in my mind.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_5403455ff6168f0d202a96cb53edea69136d74d59b989cfcc7cc4a1d57672cb5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250421080424_5403455ff6168f0d202a96cb53edea69136d74d59b989cfcc7cc4a1d57672cb5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1317" loading="lazy" alt="fall of monarchy"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 28 April-3 May 2005 with cover image by Ajay Joshi of jubilant protesters after street demonstrations sidelined king Gyanendra, paving the way for a ceasfire and restoration of democracy. </figcaption> </figure>  As the conversation developed, it became ever clearer that King Gyanendra had decided to go in alone, relying on the misleading assurances he was constantly receiving from <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14954">the army</a>, and no doubt his close advisers, that the Maoists could and would be quickly defeated militarily, and taken out of the equation. This would obviate the need for him to do any deal with the political parties.&nbsp; Thus, the way would be clear for him to establish a version of his father’s Panchayat system, under a constitution that would be granted to the people by him, their sovereign, as his father and brother had done in 1962 and 1990. As in those constitutions, ultimate power would have remained in the sovereign’s hands. This proposed direction of travel was very clear from what the king said to me. In sum, King Gyanendra was motivated by a desire to emulate his immediate predecessors by granting his people a constitution that would restore his father’s Panchayat system in a modern form and give him a central role in decision-making. What was particularly dispiriting was that beyond this single objective he had no plan worthy of the name, nor demonstrably did he have the people with the skills to implement an appropriate plan even if one had existed. Crucially and depressingly, there was little or no indication from the king that he realised that such a course of action could put Nepal’s monarchy into serious jeopardy, as indeed proved to be the case. <h2>King Twice</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250420110436_315d519fe3d68d2406ebe1480fed54720fbf21b8907a4da5cde751fdc623d445.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250420110436_315d519fe3d68d2406ebe1480fed54720fbf21b8907a4da5cde751fdc623d445" data-rendition-name="original" width="1302" height="632" loading="lazy" alt="“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”"> </figure>  <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah has been king twice</a>. In 1950 he was enthroned briefly as a child king (left, above) by the Rana Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher when his grandfather, King Tribhuvan, fled to exile in India. In 2001 he was crowned king again after the massacre in the royal palace in which his brother King Birendra and nine other members of his family were killed by Crown Prince Dipendra.&nbsp; During his second reign, Gyanendra gradually asserted power by sacking Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba in 2002, and then taking full control after the 1 February 2005 coup. He was sidelined after the ceasefire in April 2006, and became a commoner after the Constituent Assembly finally <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Ftnp-abolishing,624">abolished the monarchy in 2008</a>. In the past year, Gyanendra has tried to exploit public dissatisfaction with the political parties to restore the monarchy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080432_26ef4a4b0e3cee9fdc6794446702efe16550d293904b4f6dd46fe35d4d10c788.jpg" data-media-id="editor_22" data-image-id="20250421080432_26ef4a4b0e3cee9fdc6794446702efe16550d293904b4f6dd46fe35d4d10c788" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Essays on Nepal by Sam Cowen"> </figure>

“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”

“It's Kathmandu.” Just as the family was sitting down for one of its extended lunches, that jubilant cry was from François Driard’s grandfather announcing the next posting for his diplomat parents.&nbsp; Driard (pictured) was 18 in the summer of 1996,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/chasing-a-nomad"> a bit of a hippie</a> already, and his life was about to change forever with the magical word “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu">Kathmandu</a>”. “I was awed with that information from my grandfather, nothing else mattered … In France <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tales-of-courage-and-suffering-cx95f89e">in the 1990s</a>, Kathmandu had a mythical aura,” Driard recalls. He came to Kathmandu for Christmas that year to visit his stepfather, the French Ambassador Michel Lummaux. It was to be the first of many visits during school holidays, before he decided to permanently settle down in Nepal. “Kathmandu, and Nepal, were very different then, it was magical, I liked the nature, the people, civilisation, temples, trees,” says Driard, who explored the country sitting on the top of buses. “Visitors talk about the crazy <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">urbanisation</a>, traffic jams today, and all that is true. But Kathmandu has not <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/loss-of-soul-and-soil">lost its soul</a>.” After his stepfather’s tenure in Nepal ended, Driard worked as a business reporter for international publications but decided he did not want to be anyone’s employee anymore. In 2007 he landed in Kathmandu with €20,000 in savings to invest.&nbsp; He knew a few crucial things about himself: he liked food and nature, which is very much tied up with his upbringing--full of lively conversations during lunch and dinner at the family table between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-yak-cheese-is-on-world-map">abundant cheese, wine and cigars</a>. So he decided it would be cheese, and registered Himalayan French Cheese and went to the French Alps for a month to learn how to make Tomme de Savoie. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-story-of-langtang-cheese">Cheese making is such an ancient craft </a>and so I thought I won’t need much money or studying which I hated and indeed, if you have a tamako bhado and fire you are set,” explains Driard. But Nepal’s temperature and humidity were not ideal, even at higher altitudes. The first customers for his cheese were the Hyatt Regency and Nina and Hager. But he needed to create a market for cheese in a country which only knew hard churpi in the north and soft paneer in the south. He started selling his cheeses at the Summit Hotel weekend market, expanding to his own 1905 Farmer’s Market which later moved to Le Sherpa in Maharajganj, where it is now, and also a market at Labim Mall in Pulchok. He had cow dairies in Nuwakot and Dhulikhel, and finally a yak cheese unit at 3,379m in Ramechhap. It was the yak blue cheese from here that went on to win a Gold Medal in France, putting Nepal’s French cheese on the world map. “People come and try our cheese at the market, they ask questions. There is a lot of education to be done about cheese,” adds Driard, who also has three cheese shops in the Valley. Driard now makes 25 types of cheese. The products are being noticed and every year he has French students coming to Nepal to learn the art of yak cheese making. “In France, one family or company makes one kind of cheese for generations. In that I’m very unique as a cheese artisan,” he says. “The students come in to learn but I tell them to also teach us something too, add another cheese to my collection.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/langtang-after-10-years">Langtang after 10 years</a>, Sonia Awale Being a foodie, Driard is now also dabbling in meat with his own charcuterie at Meatini with bacon, ham, sausage and pâtés. All of this is now served at his Emilio’s Pizza, a leafy hideaway in Lazimpat. His South Side in Moksh is probably the smallest wine bar in the world. “I call the process sublime,” says Driard of his ventures, which have grown organically. “You need the same temperature and humidity of 12°C and 80% for cheese, meat and wine.” Emilio’s speciality is the eight-cheese pizza (which has eight types of cheeses), and a pizza with bhutan topping (not the country but fried intestines and organs Nepali-style). He has opened a small branch at Courtyard in Pokhara.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="8 cheese pizza"> <figcaption>Eight-cheese pizza</figcaption> </figure>  With two artisanal cheese units, two farmers’ markets, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-meat-of-the-story">meat processing unit</a>, a bakery, and wine bar he now envisions a vineyard so he can add Nepali wine to his repertoire. Another future plan is to start up an agri-tourism business where customers can drink, eat and work in peace. In the past 20 years in Nepal, Driard has not always succeeded in his ventures but this hasn’t curbed his enthusiasm. He is learning as he goes, and like an old wine, Nepal is growing on him. Its slowness suits his French art de vivre with eating slowly outdoors, having conversation, importing less.&nbsp; “I have proven that with even a little money you can do a lot of things in Nepal,” adds Driard. “In the West, they easily invest half a million euros on a cheese factory, I invested 10 times less.”&nbsp;

Fromage, vin et charcuterie Népalais

Bhuthan भुठान starts with Bishnu Bahadur KC played by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/dhuwa-smoke-telefilm,2671">Hari Bansha Acharya</a> on a call, requesting to speak to the visa officer. By this point, he had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-should-now-allow-visa-on-arrival">applied for a visa </a>to Bhutan 10 times, but was denied each time. KC was a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-women-excel-in-sports-in-2024-z9ramyct">national football player </a>in Bhutan in 1988 before he and other Nepali-speaking Lhotsampa people were forced out of the country in the 1990s as part of the Druk regime’s ‘One Nation One People’ campaign. Over 100,000 Bhutanese Nepalis were forced out, driven across India and dumped in Nepal where they lived in seven<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp"> refugee camps</a> supervised by the United Nations and other charities until they were resettled in the United States, Australia, New Zealand and some European countries starting in 2007. In the fictional movie with the satirical English title The World’s Happiest Man, KC has resettled in the state of Ohio in the US but wishes to visit his home country once before he dies. Between flashbacks, we learn KC has died without having fulfilled his wish. &nbsp; The drama then focuses on KC’s two families from two marriages as they debate whether to cremate him as per <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/muslim-hindu,2996">Hindu rites </a>or give him a Christian burial. A mediator played by Hollywood actor Bruce Dern urges them to take a firm decision before it is too long.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250430140420_b398a08091b866da2b0b8f6c1e6e26781609749aba896bfd2c68a10a519295c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250430140420_b398a08091b866da2b0b8f6c1e6e26781609749aba896bfd2c68a10a519295c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="945" height="945" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan, the movie"> </figure>  There are drawn out scenes of KC being baptised and when he is confronted by his first wife from Darjeeling played by Anuradha Majumdar, he says he changed his religion in the hope that he will be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/bhutan-s-refugees-between-hope-and-despair">allowed back in Bhutan</a>.&nbsp; We find out KC has a second wife, a Christian Nepali played by Puja Chand. Dayahang Rai as the younger son doesn’t have much screen time to flex his acting chops. &nbsp; Acharya competently portrays a man that is equal parts haunted by the memories of and longing for his home country. KC’s pain and loss is acute when he is teaching football to Gungun but between mid-scene, he freezes, perhaps lost in memories of being in Bhutan’s national team. &nbsp; In another scene, KC recalls his mother singing a lullaby in Dzongkha. He also has a box filled with medals, photographs and a football which he deflates with a knife in a powerful depiction of his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home?fb_comment_id=1506516030025634">complicated emotions about his homeland</a>. KC keeps checking his mailbox in the hopes that his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4977">visa application</a> has been accepted. He says in Nepali: “If a tree that has already struck roots in one place is shifted to another, it will not survive.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250430140420_4a9c27410326489576c04dedf40016bda3825e8f9663317f54fbfec4cbda6d34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250430140420_4a9c27410326489576c04dedf40016bda3825e8f9663317f54fbfec4cbda6d34" data-rendition-name="original" width="1422" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan, the movie"> </figure>  Dern’s character says that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-transitional-justice-and-the-west-s-recalibration">western world</a> has become “lonely in pursuit of happiness”, another reference to Bhutan’s obsession with its Gross National Happiness index. Scenes shift quickly throughout making the story difficult to follow at times. The use of symbolism is a trite overdone. Nonetheless, भुठान is a nuanced depiction of raw pain and agony of losing one’s homeland. But one cannot help but leave the theatre feeling deflated. KC dies without having visited <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Bhutan</a>, but perhaps he does in his afterlife. It is up to the audience to create its own ending to this sad story of exile. भुठान Mad Monkey Films, 2025 Directed by Binod Paudel 102 minutes In cinemas in Nepal

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