This is the 66th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. <h2>Siya Sada&nbsp;</h2> My husband never gets on cars or buses on his own. I cannot even imagine him flying on a plane by himself. His phobia of travel is very strong. Which is why unlike many men here in Janakpur, he never migrated.&nbsp; Instead, I sent my son to Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but both times he returned before his contract was up, with outstanding recruitment loans of Rs400,000.&nbsp; I had also taken additional loans for my daughter’s wedding. Heavily in debt, and frustrated with constant calls from the money lender, I decided to go overseas myself.&nbsp; There were other women I knew who had migrated to work as domestic workers in the Gulf and sent money home, so I decided to do the same. I did not tell anyone that I was migrating until the last minute.&nbsp; I had disappeared for 11 days in Kathmandu getting my documents ready, and my husband had gone around the village frantically looking for me with my father. I only informed them about my decision before my flight and ignored pleas from family not to leave.&nbsp; After our plane took off from Kathmandu to Kuwait, I enjoyed looking out of the window as we flew higher and higher. I worked there for six years.&nbsp; The first employer was mean spirited and terrible. She had a mischievous चकचके son whom I had difficulty taking care of. She expected me to carry his heavy toy car down four flights of stairs on my head for him to drive. This was just too much. She did not care whether I ate or not. After two years, I moved to a new family which was much nicer and treated me like family. The work was lighter because the children were all grown up and there was more consideration of my time to sleep, eat and work.&nbsp; There were no disagreements like with the previous employer, and I did as I was told उठ भने उठ, बस भने भस. The arrangement in that joint family was that each had their own domestic worker.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 65"> <figcaption>Siya Sada</figcaption> </figure>  We shared a room with an Ethiopian, Filipino and fellow Nepali. We had a strong bond between us, and we communicated with each other in Arabic which I had already picked up.&nbsp; In a foreign land, every day was a day closer to pay day. We would wait impatiently and count our fingers. I earned money, and I sent everything home to my family back in Nepal: “मैले कमाउने, परिवारले गन्ने”.&nbsp; I had plans to stay in Kuwait for 10 years but had to come back after six when I fell sick. I broke down when leaving, as I had become attached to the family I worked for.&nbsp; They bought me parting gifts like a watch, blanket, flashlight. I handed over my job to another Nepali domestic worker from Sunsari whom I trained before returning. I had managed to pay off my loans with my earnings in Kuwait, and had enough left over to buy some land and marry off my son. But since my stay was cut short, I could not manage to build a house.&nbsp; No other woman from my neighbourhood in Janakpur has migrated overseas that I am aware of. It is only men who migrate from around here.&nbsp; Perhaps I too would not have migrated if my husband had gone overseas, and my son had not returned. In addition to freeing myself from loan sharks, going overseas also widened my mind and horizon. If I had just stayed here in Nepal I would not have achieved as much, my loans would still have been unpaid. Life is back to normal now in Nepal. I am back to washing clothes with my hands and getting water from the well. I wish we could have brought back appliances like washing machines, rice cookers and vacuum cleaners but they are not practical here.&nbsp; Here, even when we leave the lights on for too long we have to worry about the electricity bill. How can we afford anything more ? I don’t even use the iron and hair dryer that I brought back. <h2>Gulbandan Devi Sada&nbsp;</h2> I spent three years and three months in Saudi Arabia and almost six years in Kuwait. It has been five years since I returned.&nbsp; My aunt-in-law had gone overseas, and I also wanted to go abroad to pay the medical bills of my sick husband and support four children. My husband supported my decision saying fate would determine if he would live or not, but we had to take care of our children.&nbsp; I traveled through India where the agent made us wait for a month. My husband died the day before my flight to Saudi Arabia. Everyone told me to continue with my journey as my husband would not return and my children needed to be taken care of. I went, and it took me a year to learn Arabic. Me and my employers relied on sign language and hand gestures to communicate with each other. It was not easy by any means.&nbsp; My employer taught me how to run the washing machine, iron and to cook as per their liking, after which she left things in my hands. Initially, I burnt clothes while ironing, broke the washing machine and my employer threatened to deduct the cost from my wages, but she thankfully did not do it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 66"> <figcaption>Gulbandan Devi Sada</figcaption> </figure>  But I found out my employer made money off of me by sending me to work at other people’s homes. I did not enjoy my stay there as she was किचकिचे demanding. I used to miss my children while taking care of her children who were of similar age. I had left them with my late mother.&nbsp; When I took care of children overseas, I had to be more cautious than with my own back home since the consequences would be severe if they fell down and got hurt while running around. With my savings, I bought land here, got my brother married and did a big puja. After a few months in Nepal, I went to Kuwait to work. This time, the experience was easier because I spoke Arabic and had gathered experience. But even there, I had to change two employers as I did not have a good experience with the families. The third house I worked in was better, and I stayed with them.&nbsp; Back home I built a house with my earnings, and married off my daughter. Although I wanted to stay longer, I decided to return because I had health issues. I worry about old age and the need to have savings, and even consider migrating sometimes. My only hope now is my children. When I returned to Nepal, my Kuwaiti employer kept calling me saying I should return because the children missed me. But I have my own children to focus on now.&nbsp;

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Every day is closer to pay day

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb859c7e80680e09ad0djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1088" height="579"/>It may sound incongruous writing about labour and employment when<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Covid-19 is surging across the country</a>.But since Saturday is May Day, let us look at labour and migration. The unmet need to generate enough jobs for the 500,000 young Nepalis who enter the labour market every year, and the state’s responsibility in facilitating safe and affordable migration for those who want to work abroad.The Constitution says: ‘The State shall pursue a policy of ensuring the right to work of the labor force, which remains as the major social and economic strength of the country, by providing them with employment and raising their participation in the management of enterprises, while at the same time protecting their rights and interests.’<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb879c7e80680e09ad0ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">Employment and migration are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">directly linked to the pandemic</a>, and as parts of the country go back into lockdown again, we have seen that the crisis will continue to have a direct impact on jobs, earnings and remittances in coming years.The state has the unenviable task of balancing lives with livelihoods. Compared to the first wave, this one is a tsunami, and we witness in India the kind of havoc it can wreak. For the poorest Nepalis without savings and social safety nets, the pandemic is as much an economic crisis as a health emergency.Even pre-pandemic, the lives of millions of Nepalis was precarious given the uncertainties of daily wages, and the inadequacy of subsistence agriculture.This is where the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP) that was launched with much fanfare in February 2019 held much promise. It planned a nationwide social protection program aimed at the poorest and jobless, guaranteeing them 100 days of employment annually. Those who registered but did not get jobs were to be provided unemployment allowance for 50 days a year.Last year’s budget promised jobs for 200,000 most vulnerable Nepalis affected by the lockdowns under this scheme.As we report, the outcome is discouraging: of the 750,000 who registered as jobless, only a little over 10% got jobs—not for 100 days, but an average of 11.The lesson is clear: local governments need to be empowered for decision-making and well-resourced and coordinate seamlessly with the federal government. Not learning this will lead to endemic complacency.Everyone agrees that the PMEP is a great idea. But as usual, the proof of the pudding in Nepal is always in the eating. Proper implementation could have helped the poorest Nepalis during this crisis. It is a missed opportunity.The PMEP was designed as a safety net for the poorest. During the Covid-19 crisis it is even more important to provide jobs for  families who need the income the most.A highly informal workforce also means a highly disposable workforce without social safety nets. Due to the drop in tourism, transport and retail trade, Nepal’s service sector growth is at an 18 year low. Two out of every five workers lost their jobs with women, the young workers most affected.Internal migration has also been hit by lockdowns, and we are once more seeing an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exodus of Nepalis</a> to their districts. Foreign employment is recovering, but slowly. Nepali workers are fleeing a devastating <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covid-19 surge in India</a>. The impact will be felt by the poorest Nepalis, especially from western Nepal who opt for seasonal work.The PMEP targets only the most vulnerable segment of the labour market. There are skilled, higher income groups who have also lost jobs.The labour market is under enormous pressure to absorb Nepalis who have been displaced from jobs, who would have migrated, the returnees, and new entrants. Many migrants see their own lifetime as solely that of sacrifice for their children, spending two to three decades in the Gulf just so the generation after them can break out of the cycle they have been stuck in.When parents are not able to work, children’s education suffers, and it is impacted by new school closures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/online-classes-may-widen-digital-divide/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Online education</a> is not an option for the poorest.The upcoming budget, just like last year’s, is sure to include lofty promises about employment priorities. There will again be pledges to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mobilise skills of returnees</a>, even though past reintegration programs never even remotely met targets.A more hopeful and helpful strategy would be to under-promise and over-deliver. That would be the honest way to mark this year’s Labour Day. More work and less talk.

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83619c7e80680e067730jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1088" height="579"/>It may sound incongruous writing about labour and employment when<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Covid-19 is surging across the country</a>.But since Saturday is May Day, let us look at labour and migration. The unmet need to generate enough jobs for the 500,000 young Nepalis who enter the labour market every year, and the state’s responsibility in facilitating safe and affordable migration for those who want to work abroad.The Constitution says: ‘The State shall pursue a policy of ensuring the right to work of the labor force, which remains as the major social and economic strength of the country, by providing them with employment and raising their participation in the management of enterprises, while at the same time protecting their rights and interests.’<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83639c7e80680e067731jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">Employment and migration are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">directly linked to the pandemic</a>, and as parts of the country go back into lockdown again, we have seen that the crisis will continue to have a direct impact on jobs, earnings and remittances in coming years.The state has the unenviable task of balancing lives with livelihoods. Compared to the first wave, this one is a tsunami, and we witness in India the kind of havoc it can wreak. For the poorest Nepalis without savings and social safety nets, the pandemic is as much an economic crisis as a health emergency.Even pre-pandemic, the lives of millions of Nepalis was precarious given the uncertainties of daily wages, and the inadequacy of subsistence agriculture.This is where the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP) that was launched with much fanfare in February 2019 held much promise. It planned a nationwide social protection program aimed at the poorest and jobless, guaranteeing them 100 days of employment annually. Those who registered but did not get jobs were to be provided unemployment allowance for 50 days a year.Last year’s budget promised jobs for 200,000 most vulnerable Nepalis affected by the lockdowns under this scheme.As we report, the outcome is discouraging: of the 750,000 who registered as jobless, only a little over 10% got jobs—not for 100 days, but an average of 11.The lesson is clear: local governments need to be empowered for decision-making and well-resourced and coordinate seamlessly with the federal government. Not learning this will lead to endemic complacency.Everyone agrees that the PMEP is a great idea. But as usual, the proof of the pudding in Nepal is always in the eating. Proper implementation could have helped the poorest Nepalis during this crisis. It is a missed opportunity.The PMEP was designed as a safety net for the poorest. During the Covid-19 crisis it is even more important to provide jobs for  families who need the income the most.A highly informal workforce also means a highly disposable workforce without social safety nets. Due to the drop in tourism, transport and retail trade, Nepal’s service sector growth is at an 18 year low. Two out of every five workers lost their jobs with women, the young workers most affected.Internal migration has also been hit by lockdowns, and we are once more seeing an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exodus of Nepalis</a> to their districts. Foreign employment is recovering, but slowly. Nepali workers are fleeing a devastating <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covid-19 surge in India</a>. The impact will be felt by the poorest Nepalis, especially from western Nepal who opt for seasonal work.The PMEP targets only the most vulnerable segment of the labour market. There are skilled, higher income groups who have also lost jobs.The labour market is under enormous pressure to absorb Nepalis who have been displaced from jobs, who would have migrated, the returnees, and new entrants. Many migrants see their own lifetime as solely that of sacrifice for their children, spending two to three decades in the Gulf just so the generation after them can break out of the cycle they have been stuck in.When parents are not able to work, children’s education suffers, and it is impacted by new school closures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/online-classes-may-widen-digital-divide/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Online education</a> is not an option for the poorest.The upcoming budget, just like last year’s, is sure to include lofty promises about employment priorities. There will again be pledges to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mobilise skills of returnees</a>, even though past reintegration programs never even remotely met targets.A more hopeful and helpful strategy would be to under-promise and over-deliver. That would be the honest way to mark this year’s Labour Day. More work and less talk.

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb689c7e80680e09ad01jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: UPASANA KHADKA</figcaption></figure>For most Nepalis, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/measuring-the-human-cost-of-lockdown/">economic crisis brought on by the pandemic</a> far outweighs its health risks. The majority of Nepal’s population is employed in the informal sector, cannot work remotely and have no social safety net.With many parts of the country going into another lockdown this week, any hope for employment recovery has further evaporated. Amid the uncertainty and financial distress, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/">Kathmandu saw an exodus</a> of tens of thousands of Nepalis fleeing back to their villages, a familiar scene from last year.The 2020 budget set an ambitious target of creating 700,000 jobs and raised public expectation. Some 200,000 of these jobs were to be created through the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive/">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP), a work guarantee scheme launched in February 2019 that promises 100 days of employment to the jobless.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb6b9c7e80680e09ad02jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">The numbers, however, paint a bleak picture. A whopping 752,976 jobseekers registered themselves as unemployed in the past year, of which 42% were women (see Figure 1). However, only 78,678 of them landed jobs for a combined 843,042 days so far this fiscal year. This translates into an average of 11 days of employment (see Figure 2). Even if we take underreporting into account, the numbers severely fall short of what was promised. In the first two years of the program, an average of 13 and 16 days of work was provided.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb6d9c7e80680e09ad03jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="692" height="588"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb6f9c7e80680e09ad04jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ganesh KC, Mayor of Madhuwan Municipality in Bardia, sees two merits of PMEP. The financial respite brought to those who receive jobs, albeit for a few days. And how it has concurrently helped with the maintenance of roads and public infrastructure.But he notes that there is significant room for improvement. “The number of jobseekers overwhelmingly exceeds the jobs available and those who get employment only do so for a few days. This results in disappointment as we raised public expectations with this scheme,” he says.The Employment Coordinators (ECs) in charge of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/gadfly-opinion/removing-poverty-with-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a> appointed at the local administrative units also echoed this view. “There is fatigue among jobseekers to fill out forms year after year when they don’t see results. They put pressure on the local representatives who in turn put pressure on us. This has put a dent on our credibility,” says one EC. While registered unemployed who were not provided jobs are entitled to 50 days equivalent of unemployment allowance, it hasn’t come to fruition yet.Suman Ghimire, Joint Secretary at the Labour Ministry and National Program Coordinator of PMEP, sees lack of local ownership as a big hurdle in PMEP implementation.“There is still a lack of understanding among local officials and representatives on the significance of PMEP which puts it in the backburner. They need to proactively engage with ward officials on the significance and implementation of the program as implementation begins at the ward level,” he says, adding that hiring and retaining ECs has been challenging in remote areas. “Without ECs at each municipality, it is difficult to expect results.”This discrepancy in local ownership is evident in a recently released PMEP 2019-2020 report, according to which only 495 out of 753 local units managed to implement the proposed projects, even though the  budget was disbursed to 701 local units.  So far this year, 566 local units have implemented PMEP (see Figure 3).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb719c7e80680e09ad05jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1044" height="646"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As per the report, PMEP intended to provide 100-days employment to 60,000 jobseekers 2019-20. Of the 370,734 who registered as unemployed, 105,365 got jobs for an average of 16 days. Only 39 local units provided jobs to over 500 individuals. Of the 753 ECs to be appointed at each local unit in charge of overseeing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a>, 110 local units did not have ECs either because they had not been appointed at all or had resigned, which was further delayed by the pandemic.So far in 2020-2021, over 10,000 PMEP projects have been implemented across the country, up from 4,302 last year (see Figures 4 and 5). About half of the projects are on roads and transportation. Applicants who are shortlisted are asked to form a group and coordinate with the ward on a pre-approved project they want to work on.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb739c7e80680e09ad06jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1214" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb769c7e80680e09ad07jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1181" height="597"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>One challenge to PMEP implementation is that the allocated budget can be spent only on wages, and not on equipment. “If it is a road project, for example, they need cement, shovels and safety gear. Who will provide that?” questions Bishaksen Dhakal, Chief Administrative Officer at Sindhuli’s Kalamai municipality.He adds: “In an ideal scenario, the local government’s budget would be used to cover material and equipment costs, but there is not much enthusiasm about this at the local leadership level.”The PMEP budget is also released much later than the fiscal allotment, leading to unwillingness on part of local governments to readjust their plans.Dhakal notes that there must be increased coordination between the federal and local governments so the latter sets aside a budget for PMEP projects equipment and material in advance or the guideline must be updated to allow for non-wage related expenditure.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb789c7e80680e09ad08jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2866" height="4300"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Karnali Province, a parallel Chief Minister’s Employment Program (CMEP) has relieved pressure on municipalities. “CMEP nicely complements PMEP and has provided relief on various fronts. Salaries of both programs are the same so the jobseekers unable to benefit from PMEP can get work through this program. Furthermore, there is more leeway with the CMEP because the 40 per cent of the budget can be used for the purchase of equipment and material,” says Resham Bahadur Budha, Chief Administrative Officer of Narayan Municipality in Dailekh.In Narayan municipality, for example, CMEP is expected to employ 1,000 individuals for 50 days in 22 projects. Of the 3,000 people registered for PMEP, less than 500 received some form of work.For a more lasting impact, local leaders stress on the need to equip PMEP beneficiaries with marketable skills and experience. “If the scheme had an element of graduation, beneficiaries could eventually wean off the program. Currently, they benefit from the program doing labor work for the number of days they are allocated, which is irregular and uncertain. Support like training would make them more employable,” says Mayor Ganesh KC.He also emphasises on the need to further strengthen the Employment Service Centers, especially to coordinate with the private sector who are the real job creators. Appeals to local employers and associations to make use of local labor, including those registered as unemployed under PMEP, have not yielded results yet.“If there is a need for a plumber, it would be good to rely on a roster of plumbers at ESC to hire from. As it is now, PMEP is not designed for skilled but unemployed workers who have higher reservation wages and skills so we need to think beyond PMEP,” he says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb7c9c7e80680e09ad09jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Beyond lapses in current infrastructure such as the capacity of the ESC and the available MIS system, KC notes that relying on ESCs for job placements also demands a mindset change: “As jobseekers and employers, we are habituated to relying on personal referrals and networks so such new practices will take time to adapt to.”Suman Ghimire at the Labour Ministry shares that it is working to strengthen ESC to play a stronger coordination and referral role and has set aside a budget to train over 59,000 PMEP beneficiaries for next fiscal year, but makes it clear that the scheme is not for the skilled workers.“We need to understand that PMEP is targeted to the poorest who are struggling to make ends meet. For the unemployed who are skilled and educated such as returnee migrants, there are self- and wage-employment programs run by other line agencies. We have prioritized strengthening the capacity of ESCs to play a strong coordination and referral role because the various programs are scattered and potential beneficiaries may not necessarily be aware of these schemes,” he says.Those we spoke to, from Mayors to ECs, express the enormous potential of PMEP to help the poorest of the poor. The jobs are in their proximity and for many, including women, it is a convenient way to boost household income especially during agricultural lean seasons.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb7d9c7e80680e09ad0ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With the pandemic, both domestic and foreign employment are on shaky grounds. This further increases the demand for programs like PMEP to provide temporary respite to individuals so they can better cope with the widespread economic shock.According to the World Bank Covid-19 monitoring survey, two out of five economically active workers reported incidence of job loss or prolonged work absence.  Internal migrants are returning back to their villages en masse. Seasonal migrant workers from India <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/">are reeling under the second wave</a>. Emigration to third countries beyond India is picking up, but slowly and unevenly. The macro-picture of remittance may have defied predictions so far but many have lost their overseas jobs, and with it an important income source that has served as the only reliable safety net. Disbursement of the government’s soft loan programs to encourage self-employment initiatives have shown modest improvement but are far from the desired targets. (See Figure 6)<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-year-of-migrant-workers/">The story of Hari </a>whose journey we have covered over the months shows how helpless migrants are in the face of the crisis. In May, Hari made an arduous journey back to Banke from Ahmedabad despite the risks of traveling.“It is better to die in my own country,” he told us then, as he trudged to the Nepal border on India’s Shramik train. Five months later, he went back to Ahmedabad to work with the same employer, a hotel, despite the COVID-19 crisis in India. On the phone in December, he asked us rhetorically: “How will my family survive if I don’t migrate?”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb809c7e80680e09ad0bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1926" height="1284"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A few weeks back, as the crisis gripped India, he again escaped to Nepal, wary that things were quickly spiraling out of control and wanting to avoid the border and quarantine complications he faced the first time back.  The back and forth and uncertainty has worn him down.“I am lucky to be alive. Two of my Nepali friends in Gujarat, a few hours from where I worked, died of Covid-19. It could have very well been me. At least I managed to escape and am alive and safe,” he says.But this recognition does not take away the financial stress back home as his family is already struggling to make ends meet and as a sole bread winner, his job prospects are dim. His is not an isolated story, of families in dire need of temporary safety nets to fall back on till the situation allows them to get back on their feet.Now more than ever, social protection programs are needed to provide a lifeline to the poorest. With the second wave, local governments are once again overwhelmed with flooded hospitals, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">returnee migrant</a> management, and shortages of all kinds. As pointed out in the 2019-20 PMEP report, in the context of the pandemic, the PMEP needs to be adapted to address local needs to help fight the crisis including building of temporary structures for isolation, contact tracing, sanitation drives, social awareness programs under Covid-19 safety protocols.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The second wave</a> and the quickly unfolding crisis further underscores the need to leverage this program for such activities. Given the current situation, the immediate need of the hour is also to cast the safety net wider by providing traditional emergency cash- or food-based assistance to help the poorest cope with food insecurity so families who have lost their livelihoods can ride out the crisis.Over the last three years PMEP has had a checkered reputation because of allegations of wasteful spending, unproductive work and improper targeting of the unemployed.“We are best placed to give critical feedback on implementation challenges,” says one EC. “It would be helpful if they came to monitor our work from the center, to understand the ground realities. As ECs, for example, we are still under-resourced as we do not have allowances for transportation to travel to the wards that we are in charge of, some of which are quite distant from where we are based. Sometimes, it is simple challenges and small kinks, if sorted, could go a long way.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb839c7e80680e09ad0cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="990" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The federal government has been receptive to some other feedback from local governments and ECs, especially the current daily wage of Rs517 being too low by local standards, and are considering to readjust it for next fiscal year. This, however, is a tricky task.On one hand, the wages need to be high enough to make a meaningful difference to the poor. But on the other, low-wage setting aids with proper targeting by ensuring the intended beneficiaries i.e., the poorest self-select into the program and those who are not poor or have alternate income sources are not attracted to PMEP.To be fair, at just its third year, PMEP is still at its nascent stages and it will take a while for this massive undertaking to take off smoothly, further complicated by the pandemic.Comparator programs like India’s Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (MGNREGS), for example, celebrated its 15 years this year. In 2020-21, one hundred ten million jobseekers benefited from MNREGS, a 39% jump from the previous year, proving to be critical for distressed workers during the pandemic despite implementation challenges such as payment delays and job rationing.But as promised in the last budget, the expectation from the Nepal government’s flagship employment program during this unprecedented time was for swift and bold action, both because of and in spite of Covid-19.

Missing the plot in Nepal's job scheme

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83429c7e80680e067724jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: UPASANA KHADKA</figcaption></figure>For most Nepalis, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/measuring-the-human-cost-of-lockdown/">economic crisis brought on by the pandemic</a> far outweighs its health risks. The majority of Nepal’s population is employed in the informal sector, cannot work remotely and have no social safety net.With many parts of the country going into another lockdown this week, any hope for employment recovery has further evaporated. Amid the uncertainty and financial distress, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/">Kathmandu saw an exodus</a> of tens of thousands of Nepalis fleeing back to their villages, a familiar scene from last year.The 2020 budget set an ambitious target of creating 700,000 jobs and raised public expectation. Some 200,000 of these jobs were to be created through the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive/">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP), a work guarantee scheme launched in February 2019 that promises 100 days of employment to the jobless.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83459c7e80680e067725jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">The numbers, however, paint a bleak picture. A whopping 752,976 jobseekers registered themselves as unemployed in the past year, of which 42% were women (see Figure 1). However, only 78,678 of them landed jobs for a combined 843,042 days so far this fiscal year. This translates into an average of 11 days of employment (see Figure 2). Even if we take underreporting into account, the numbers severely fall short of what was promised. In the first two years of the program, an average of 13 and 16 days of work was provided.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83479c7e80680e067726jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="692" height="588"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83499c7e80680e067727jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ganesh KC, Mayor of Madhuwan Municipality in Bardia, sees two merits of PMEP. The financial respite brought to those who receive jobs, albeit for a few days. And how it has concurrently helped with the maintenance of roads and public infrastructure.But he notes that there is significant room for improvement. “The number of jobseekers overwhelmingly exceeds the jobs available and those who get employment only do so for a few days. This results in disappointment as we raised public expectations with this scheme,” he says.The Employment Coordinators (ECs) in charge of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/gadfly-opinion/removing-poverty-with-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a> appointed at the local administrative units also echoed this view. “There is fatigue among jobseekers to fill out forms year after year when they don’t see results. They put pressure on the local representatives who in turn put pressure on us. This has put a dent on our credibility,” says one EC. While registered unemployed who were not provided jobs are entitled to 50 days equivalent of unemployment allowance, it hasn’t come to fruition yet.Suman Ghimire, Joint Secretary at the Labour Ministry and National Program Coordinator of PMEP, sees lack of local ownership as a big hurdle in PMEP implementation.“There is still a lack of understanding among local officials and representatives on the significance of PMEP which puts it in the backburner. They need to proactively engage with ward officials on the significance and implementation of the program as implementation begins at the ward level,” he says, adding that hiring and retaining ECs has been challenging in remote areas. “Without ECs at each municipality, it is difficult to expect results.”This discrepancy in local ownership is evident in a recently released PMEP 2019-2020 report, according to which only 495 out of 753 local units managed to implement the proposed projects, even though the  budget was disbursed to 701 local units.  So far this year, 566 local units have implemented PMEP (see Figure 3).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b834b9c7e80680e067728jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1044" height="646"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As per the report, PMEP intended to provide 100-days employment to 60,000 jobseekers 2019-20. Of the 370,734 who registered as unemployed, 105,365 got jobs for an average of 16 days. Only 39 local units provided jobs to over 500 individuals. Of the 753 ECs to be appointed at each local unit in charge of overseeing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a>, 110 local units did not have ECs either because they had not been appointed at all or had resigned, which was further delayed by the pandemic.So far in 2020-2021, over 10,000 PMEP projects have been implemented across the country, up from 4,302 last year (see Figures 4 and 5). About half of the projects are on roads and transportation. Applicants who are shortlisted are asked to form a group and coordinate with the ward on a pre-approved project they want to work on.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b834e9c7e80680e067729jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1214" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83509c7e80680e06772ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1181" height="597"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>One challenge to PMEP implementation is that the allocated budget can be spent only on wages, and not on equipment. “If it is a road project, for example, they need cement, shovels and safety gear. Who will provide that?” questions Bishaksen Dhakal, Chief Administrative Officer at Sindhuli’s Kalamai municipality.He adds: “In an ideal scenario, the local government’s budget would be used to cover material and equipment costs, but there is not much enthusiasm about this at the local leadership level.”The PMEP budget is also released much later than the fiscal allotment, leading to unwillingness on part of local governments to readjust their plans.Dhakal notes that there must be increased coordination between the federal and local governments so the latter sets aside a budget for PMEP projects equipment and material in advance or the guideline must be updated to allow for non-wage related expenditure.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83539c7e80680e06772bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2866" height="4300"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Karnali Province, a parallel Chief Minister’s Employment Program (CMEP) has relieved pressure on municipalities. “CMEP nicely complements PMEP and has provided relief on various fronts. Salaries of both programs are the same so the jobseekers unable to benefit from PMEP can get work through this program. Furthermore, there is more leeway with the CMEP because the 40 per cent of the budget can be used for the purchase of equipment and material,” says Resham Bahadur Budha, Chief Administrative Officer of Narayan Municipality in Dailekh.In Narayan municipality, for example, CMEP is expected to employ 1,000 individuals for 50 days in 22 projects. Of the 3,000 people registered for PMEP, less than 500 received some form of work.For a more lasting impact, local leaders stress on the need to equip PMEP beneficiaries with marketable skills and experience. “If the scheme had an element of graduation, beneficiaries could eventually wean off the program. Currently, they benefit from the program doing labor work for the number of days they are allocated, which is irregular and uncertain. Support like training would make them more employable,” says Mayor Ganesh KC.He also emphasises on the need to further strengthen the Employment Service Centers, especially to coordinate with the private sector who are the real job creators. Appeals to local employers and associations to make use of local labor, including those registered as unemployed under PMEP, have not yielded results yet.“If there is a need for a plumber, it would be good to rely on a roster of plumbers at ESC to hire from. As it is now, PMEP is not designed for skilled but unemployed workers who have higher reservation wages and skills so we need to think beyond PMEP,” he says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83579c7e80680e06772cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Beyond lapses in current infrastructure such as the capacity of the ESC and the available MIS system, KC notes that relying on ESCs for job placements also demands a mindset change: “As jobseekers and employers, we are habituated to relying on personal referrals and networks so such new practices will take time to adapt to.”Suman Ghimire at the Labour Ministry shares that it is working to strengthen ESC to play a stronger coordination and referral role and has set aside a budget to train over 59,000 PMEP beneficiaries for next fiscal year, but makes it clear that the scheme is not for the skilled workers.“We need to understand that PMEP is targeted to the poorest who are struggling to make ends meet. For the unemployed who are skilled and educated such as returnee migrants, there are self- and wage-employment programs run by other line agencies. We have prioritized strengthening the capacity of ESCs to play a strong coordination and referral role because the various programs are scattered and potential beneficiaries may not necessarily be aware of these schemes,” he says.Those we spoke to, from Mayors to ECs, express the enormous potential of PMEP to help the poorest of the poor. The jobs are in their proximity and for many, including women, it is a convenient way to boost household income especially during agricultural lean seasons.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83599c7e80680e06772djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With the pandemic, both domestic and foreign employment are on shaky grounds. This further increases the demand for programs like PMEP to provide temporary respite to individuals so they can better cope with the widespread economic shock.According to the World Bank Covid-19 monitoring survey, two out of five economically active workers reported incidence of job loss or prolonged work absence.  Internal migrants are returning back to their villages en masse. Seasonal migrant workers from India <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/">are reeling under the second wave</a>. Emigration to third countries beyond India is picking up, but slowly and unevenly. The macro-picture of remittance may have defied predictions so far but many have lost their overseas jobs, and with it an important income source that has served as the only reliable safety net. Disbursement of the government’s soft loan programs to encourage self-employment initiatives have shown modest improvement but are far from the desired targets. (See Figure 6)<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-year-of-migrant-workers/">The story of Hari </a>whose journey we have covered over the months shows how helpless migrants are in the face of the crisis. In May, Hari made an arduous journey back to Banke from Ahmedabad despite the risks of traveling.“It is better to die in my own country,” he told us then, as he trudged to the Nepal border on India’s Shramik train. Five months later, he went back to Ahmedabad to work with the same employer, a hotel, despite the COVID-19 crisis in India. On the phone in December, he asked us rhetorically: “How will my family survive if I don’t migrate?”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b835c9c7e80680e06772ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1926" height="1284"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A few weeks back, as the crisis gripped India, he again escaped to Nepal, wary that things were quickly spiraling out of control and wanting to avoid the border and quarantine complications he faced the first time back.  The back and forth and uncertainty has worn him down.“I am lucky to be alive. Two of my Nepali friends in Gujarat, a few hours from where I worked, died of Covid-19. It could have very well been me. At least I managed to escape and am alive and safe,” he says.But this recognition does not take away the financial stress back home as his family is already struggling to make ends meet and as a sole bread winner, his job prospects are dim. His is not an isolated story, of families in dire need of temporary safety nets to fall back on till the situation allows them to get back on their feet.Now more than ever, social protection programs are needed to provide a lifeline to the poorest. With the second wave, local governments are once again overwhelmed with flooded hospitals, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">returnee migrant</a> management, and shortages of all kinds. As pointed out in the 2019-20 PMEP report, in the context of the pandemic, the PMEP needs to be adapted to address local needs to help fight the crisis including building of temporary structures for isolation, contact tracing, sanitation drives, social awareness programs under Covid-19 safety protocols.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The second wave</a> and the quickly unfolding crisis further underscores the need to leverage this program for such activities. Given the current situation, the immediate need of the hour is also to cast the safety net wider by providing traditional emergency cash- or food-based assistance to help the poorest cope with food insecurity so families who have lost their livelihoods can ride out the crisis.Over the last three years PMEP has had a checkered reputation because of allegations of wasteful spending, unproductive work and improper targeting of the unemployed.“We are best placed to give critical feedback on implementation challenges,” says one EC. “It would be helpful if they came to monitor our work from the center, to understand the ground realities. As ECs, for example, we are still under-resourced as we do not have allowances for transportation to travel to the wards that we are in charge of, some of which are quite distant from where we are based. Sometimes, it is simple challenges and small kinks, if sorted, could go a long way.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b835f9c7e80680e06772fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="990" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The federal government has been receptive to some other feedback from local governments and ECs, especially the current daily wage of Rs517 being too low by local standards, and are considering to readjust it for next fiscal year. This, however, is a tricky task.On one hand, the wages need to be high enough to make a meaningful difference to the poor. But on the other, low-wage setting aids with proper targeting by ensuring the intended beneficiaries i.e., the poorest self-select into the program and those who are not poor or have alternate income sources are not attracted to PMEP.To be fair, at just its third year, PMEP is still at its nascent stages and it will take a while for this massive undertaking to take off smoothly, further complicated by the pandemic.Comparator programs like India’s Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (MGNREGS), for example, celebrated its 15 years this year. In 2020-21, one hundred ten million jobseekers benefited from MNREGS, a 39% jump from the previous year, proving to be critical for distressed workers during the pandemic despite implementation challenges such as payment delays and job rationing.But as promised in the last budget, the expectation from the Nepal government’s flagship employment program during this unprecedented time was for swift and bold action, both because of and in spite of Covid-19.

“Let's have another cup of tea,” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ujwal-thapa-s-light-shines-on-n0tfurod">Ujwal Thapa</a> of the alternative Bibeksheel Nepali party told the young activist Pukar Bam ten years ago. The two had 12 cups of tea that day, discussing ways to get Nepal out of its political deadend. Thapa contested the Constituent Assembly election in 2013 as an independent from Kathmandu, and formed Bibeksheel Nepali to galvanise youth impatient for change, fielding candidates in the first federal election in 2017.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa was a political guru who was way ahead of his time, and his protégés were among the RSP’s winning candidates in last week’s election. Pukar Bam was a core member of Bibeksheel Nepali until its dissolution, and won the Kathmandu-4 seat this time. Other former Bibeksheel members who won the election from the RSP in Kathmandu include Ranju Neupane from Kathmandu-1, Sasmit Pokharel from Kathmandu-5, and Biraj Bhakta Shrestha in Kathmandu-8. As votes were counted and the results from Kathmandu began to come in, the candidates paid fulsome tribute to Ujwal Thapa’s mentorship and in inspiring idealistic youth to become a part of an alternative political force.&nbsp; Today, as RSP members of Parliament, they are no longer an alternative, but a part of Nepal’s new mainstream politics. Thapa returned to Nepal after finishing his undergraduate computer science degree in the US at the peak of the Maoist insurgency. His foray into politics began when he traveled to Nepal’s western mountains to train communities in mediation. After the war, he started a computer design company for young entrepreneurs entering the workforce. But he became frustrated with the inability of the second Constituent Assembly to promulgate the Constitution, and the power struggle between political parties played out in the streets that led to frequent shutdowns paralysing the country.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb" data-rendition-name="original" width="823" height="682" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Thapa with Pukar Bam, who was elected to Parliament last week from Kathmandu-4. Photo: PUKAR BAM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  PROTEST TO POLITICS Ujwal Thapa had had enough, and rallied people from across walks of life, leading peaceful, silent demonstrations proclaiming 'नेपाल खुल्ला छ' against prolonged, violent strikes. Citizens fed up with the main political parties organised to defy the shutdowns. Thapa’s activism and vision for a new Nepal drew disenchanted and previously apathetic youth into politics and to join the Bibeksheel Nepali Party in 2013.&nbsp; Thapa was the pioneer of alternative politics in Nepal, and was leading a youth force long before the GenZ became synonymous with Nepal’s September Storm. He mentored and guided social activists who are today influential youth leaders engaged in non-traditional politics. “Ujwal Thapa, with his entrepreneurial spirit, wanted to address people’s pain-points, and believed that activism was the starting point to alternative politics,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-loses-rare-purpose-driven-leader">Ashutosh Tiwari</a>, former member of Bibeksheel Sajha party. “He sought to build confidence, motivate, and build a community for young people, which drew a lot of people into Bibeksheel.” He adds: “ And while people might say that Bibeksheel never got big, that was never its point. Its function was to be an early talent incubator, which is what it did as evident by the result of this election.” Thapa died in 2021 of complications related to Covid-19, and Bibeksheel had two mergers with Rabindra Mishra’s Sajha Party before being permanently dissolved in 2021. But many of its idealistic members joined Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP, formed just four months before the 2022 federal election. Such was the groundswell of support for change that the RSP became the fourth-largest in Parliament. In 2017, Ranju Neupane (then Ranju Darshana) was the youngest mayoral candidate for Kathmandu at age 21, and contested the federal election in 2022. Pukar Bam himself lost the 2022 election in Kathmandu-1 as an independent.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Sashmit Pokharel also ran an unsuccessful campaign as an independent candidate in Kathmandu during the 2022 provincial election. Later, he was a member of the City Planning Commission under Balendra Shah when he was elected mayor of Kathmandu in 2022.&nbsp; Last week, the RSP swept the election with a supermajority of 182 seats in Parliament. Voters placed their trust in the party and its leaders to steer Nepal in a new direction after the youth unrest in September.&nbsp; In many ways, Nepal’s youth have decided, just as Ujwal Thapa once did, that enough is enough with corruption, malgovernance, nepotism and dynastic politics.&nbsp; In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-man-who-shook-our-minds">documentary</a> about his life, Dimag Ghochne Manche, released earlier this year, some RSP nominees who previously worked with and were mentored by Thapa spoke of the impact he had on their lives, career, and activism. Among them is Biraj Bhakta Shrestha, former minister of Youth and Sports who is now a second time RSP parliamentarian. “I tell everybody that if it hadn’t been for Ujwal Dai, I would not have gotten into politics,” he says in the film.&nbsp; It would be unfair to attribute all the success of the hard-fought campaigns entirely to Ujwal Thapa’s protégés and former coworkers.&nbsp; But his ethos and vision for Nepal was what inspired them, and will in the coming years be reflected in national politics through the young idealists he mentored. Says Ashutosh Tiwari: “There are many Bibeksheels outside of RSP in constant and open communication with their old friends who have been elected. They will be keeping the lawmakers in check so that they do no stray too far from the values that they grew up with.”

RSP’s activist DNA

It took the September GenZ firestorm and public anger against non-performing actors for a 35-year-old structural engineer and rapper Balendra (Balen) Shah to oust Nepal’s four-time prime minister and former revolutionary.
The UML’s KP Oli has been trounced by 50,000 votes in his home turf, an area where he has won many elections in his 55-year political career. It is the same story across Nepal, where established politicians are being rejected by voters.
A 'Balen Wave' has swept the country, dyeing it in the RSP’s Blue party colour. But the UML and NC particularly did this to themselves.&nbsp;
An apology and a retirement after the September protests would have saved Oli some dignity, and given the rebranded UML a tiny bit of hope and perhaps a few more electoral wins.&nbsp;
Maybe he could have been remembered fondly as the funny old guy who made one last fatal political error, but now he will be defined by this defeat. Maintaining control and legitimacy in his own party will be hard too.&nbsp;
Contrary to his past combativeness and blaming nefarious foreign conspiracies, Oli gracefully conceded on Saturday, congratulating 'Balen Babu' &nbsp;and wishing him 'a successful five years'.
Balendra Shah and his RSP knew what they were doing. As of Sunday, it has won 118 and leads in 7 other constituencies, a lot of them with similarly wide margins of victory. RSP candidates have even beaten well regarded candidates like Gagan Thapa of the NC and Kulman Ghising of Ujyalo Nepal.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <video controls src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026030817030_de0fcd0c749f165992c75cbfcb94a19b086018ffcda1d151bd55e71331f4e934.mp4" alt="" width="100%" height="100%"></video>
 <figcaption>Animation: ANUP TAMU</figcaption>
</figure>

Many including this paper questioned the RSP's strategy of choosing popular candidates over competence. But the point of an election is to win it, and there was a short campaign window to put it all together and the RSP pulled it off most successfully.&nbsp;
To be sure, the party should not get too much credit. Its manifesto was broad and bland, and no different than the other older parties.&nbsp;
A big part of the RSP ballots, maybe even most of it, were people voting against the old parties rather than for it. Many seemed to feel that this was coming, and perhaps even hoped for it.
There is also a sense of lingering cynicism. Nepal has had several revolutions and many new political starts and things always seem to end up in the same corrupt hopelessness. There is every possibility that the new RSP government will also go the same way.&nbsp;
The RSP is much bigger than Balendra Shah, although it was his popularity that made this victory possible. Its victory brings with it a sense of hope as all new things do.&nbsp;
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Not all party members who were elected are going to be as accountable or have integrity. Many of them have a chequered past, saw an opportunity in joining the RSP and took the risk.&nbsp;
What changed things were the events of September. Politicians saw firsthand that 'Power to the People' is not some abstract idea. Get too loose to it, forget that you are ruling and not serving, and you get booted out.&nbsp;
The interim Sushila Karki government deserve credit for delivering on its biggest mandate of holding the election in such a short time frame. The expectation at large was that the polls would be delayed or even scuttled.
In fact, a two-thirds RSP majority is a great opportunity to rethink the country’s political culture and institutionalise change. The point of the government in a democracy is to serve the people. Appointing non-political, competent people worked, at least in the short tenure of the interim government.&nbsp;
Adding layers of bureaucracy and committees and party politics along federal, provincial and local levels heaped resistance to the simple goal of making lives easier for the Nepali.&nbsp;
Nepal is getting a reboot, and the next few months will show whether the country is on the right track with its new generation government.

Balen takes Jhapa and Nepal

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/spot-ai-generated-election-videos">AI video on TikTok </a>of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-ai-generated-election">AI-generated Mahabharat edits</a> positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

I was a new mother trying to protect my young family from Covid in 2020, and that was when I first noticed Jacinda Ardern’s leadership. Our own prime minister was spreading misinformation about the strong immune system of Nepalis and our herbal concoctions being antidotes.&nbsp; Later in 2024, Ardern showed up after the mass shooting at mosques in New Zealand with tears in her eyes, and the strong message: “They are us.” It was refreshing to see such empathetic leadership, especially as political news was dominated by elected authoritarians, while Nepal was held hostage by repeat prime ministers.&nbsp; Ardern’s book A Different Kind of Leadership should be essential reading for all Nepalis with political aspirations, especially the new generation that wants real change. The theme that repeats throughout the book is to be human before becoming a politician.&nbsp; The book is not just about Ardern showing up for her people as one of them, it is also about why she decided to show up the way she did, and what brought her to politics to begin with — resolve, a little bit of luck, and stepping up when she had to.&nbsp; Political ambition is not a bad thing. But stepping up to lead when the situation demands it, and knowing when it is time to leave, is what makes a leader. Ardern was given the opportunity to become her party’s deputy leader at a relatively young age, and her party leader resigned — two events uncommon in Nepali politics. Ardern mentions multiple times not thinking of herself as politician material because she has a thin skin, and she talks equally often of her feelings of being intimidated in political spaces, up until she accepted the position of party leader.&nbsp; But she was accountable at a time when we in Nepal were getting used to non-reactions and non-answers from the loud, confident men who played with power. Somehow, somewhere, not least because of the malestream ideas we have been fed about politics and politicians, we imagine that leadership should look a certain way. Strong, macho, loud, confident or even better, overconfident. We imagine that empathetic leadership is soft, is scared to make people angry, is ineffective.&nbsp; LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE Ardern’s leadership was effective. New Zealand had less Covid fatalities than most developed countries, and it went in and out of lockdown with relative ease. Ardern’s approval ratings were high at a very unstable time in politics globally. A significant portion of the chapters that talk about Ardern’s time in office also delve into her struggles being a working mother. But she does not consider herself a supermom who did it all. She portrays herself as simply a working mom, one with lots of support, and discusses how common it is for parents, especially mothers, to juggle work and family. She comes across as one of us. There is a section in the book where Ardern’s daughter asks her the question she has been dreading, and which many of us working moms also face, “Mummy, why do you have to work so much?” Ardern explains that she has a “very important job” and explains it to her three-and-half-year-old as “looking after people”.&nbsp; I put down the book when I reached that sentence. I want the next prime minister of my country to read this book, and then lead. I want the next prime minister of Nepal to think that he (all the top contenders for the job are men, page 9) is looking after people, making sure no Nepali child is undernourished, that people can make a living without risking their lives, hearing the concerns of citizens and solving them.&nbsp; I want him to lead like a woman, like Sushila Karki has been leading for the last six months, with quiet determination and integrity, and without fanfare. I want him to remember that leadership is just service, and that, like Maya Angelou wrote, ‘Your legacy is what you do every day.’ It is not loud speeches and the making of some imagined, glorified history. Karki was picked to lead us back during the black days of early September when the country was in flames. The very first video of her on 9 September, the day after young people and students had been shot by the government that was meant to protect them shows her angry and emotional, her voice shaking.&nbsp; It was Karki’s actions in those days of fragility that showed us, once again, that the leader we deserve gets emotional on our behalf, but also knows how to do the work. After five years of leading her country through a global pandemic, Ardern realised that she is exhausted, that she does not have enough in her anymore to keep leading New Zealand, and she steps down.&nbsp; Towards the end of the book, Ardern tells readers like herself, sensitive and self-doubting, that if we want to be leaders, we should channel our anxieties and sensitivities to humble ourselves, to read more and seek out advice, and prepare ourselves for the challenges. Nepal’s next prime minister has to have these qualities: humility, teamwork, diligence and accountability. Good intention, ambition, university degrees, professional achievements are not enough to change the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; And when they have completed the task, or when they know they cannot do it they must have the courage to step down like Jacinda Ardern.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Jacinda book details"> </figure>  &nbsp;

may-day

Every day is closer to pay day

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday

Missing the plot in Nepal's job scheme

Missing the plot in Nepal's job scheme

RSP’s activist DNA

Balen takes Jhapa and Nepal

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

Ending Nepal’s malestream politics