<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111140/63721bbc9c7e80680e0bd453jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1198" height="679"/><figcaption>Locals from Budhinanda in Bajura transporting a woman in labour to the hospital in district headquarters of Martadi. Photo: PRAKASH SINGH</figcaption></figure>N[]/dropcapepal’s medical system continues to suffer from lack of access, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal/">affordability</a> and equity. Government hospitals are under-funded, under-staffed and under-motivated. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/khumbu-shuts-trekker-clinics/">Private clinics</a> are too costly for most Nepalis.In the absence of an <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/national-health-insurance-not-as-easy,4028">efficient nationwide insurance system</a>, families are forced to sell land, take expensive loans for prolonged treatment of relatives. A recent WHO report states that nearly half-a-million Nepalis are pushed below the poverty line every year because of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rise-in-poverty-due-to-covid-19-to-affect-children/">high medical expenses</a>.Despite this, there are shining examples of hospitals that offer <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal/">quality health care at low cost</a>.One of them is in Tikapur of Kailali district where elected local leaders provide affordable care despite limited resources. In nine wards, there are two health posts, seven health centres and a hospital.“It is a question of priorities, citizens need health care they can afford and trust,” explains Bal Bahadur Kunwar of Tikapur Municipality, one of the few that  allocate 10% of the budget for health services.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal/"> Is free health care  possible in Nepal?</a> S P KalauneeThe result has been dramatic: in the past five years since the mayor and municipal council were elected to office, the district’s high maternity and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/infant-deaths-up-during-nepal-lockdown/">infant mortality rates</a> have gone down. Patients do not have to travel to nearby cities like Nepalganj or Dhangadi seeking expensive treatment.Demand has grown so much that Tikapur municipality has had to add gynecologists, pediatricians, two staff nurses and two vaccine administrators to its 50-bed hospital which is also supported by the Far-west Province.It is not just health care that is free of cost, the deputy mayor’s office also provides food and allowances to pregnant women and new mothers through its ‘Aama sanga Upamayor’ program to pay for transport and other costs. This means the rate of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepali-ama/">institutional delivery</a> has gone up, despite the pandemic lockdowns.Another forward-looking initiative is Tikapur’s ‘Hamri Chhori, Pyari Chhori’ with which parents can open a bank account in the name of newborn girls with a Rs1,000 deposit every year, which she can withdraw when she grows up — as long as she does not get married before age 20.Rapti Municipality of Dang district has 7% of its budget for health, and was awarded by the District Public Health Office last year for exemplary service. All its nine wards now have health posts. Community volunteers get incentives to make home visits to check up on the elderly, pregnant women and newborn babies.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111140/63721bbf9c7e80680e0bd454jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="700"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“Providing <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital/">basic health care</a> is not rocket science, it just needs a modest budget, good management and a commitment to the people,” says Rapti Municpality’s health section chief, Narayan Raut. Rapti is putting up another 15-bed hospital just for maternity cases.In Athbiskot Rural Municipality of West Rukum, high up in the mountains of Karnali Province, there used to be just five understaffed basic health posts. Now, there is a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kcs-fast-highlights-nepals-covid-19-failure/">well-equipped municipal hospital</a>, four health posts, nine basic health care centres and eight urban health units.From 21 healthcare workers, staff has grown to 94 with recruitment of MDGPs, public health inspectors, radiologists, and staff nurses. All this is paid for by the municipality, which sets aside 10% of its budget for health care.“There is an immediate impact on saving lives,” says Athbiskot’s health section chief Prem Prakash Rokaya. “Besides, families do not have to take sick relatives all the way to Kohalpur or Nepalganj for expensive treatment.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-humanitarian-emergency/">Nepal's humanitarian emergency</a>, EditorialThis progress in equitable healthcare in rural Nepal is not just because it is enshrined in the Constitution, but a direct result of local governments being answerable to people for whom health care is an over-riding priority.Despite its relative accessibility, Ichakamana Rural Municipality in Chitwan district did not have a resident <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nepal-medical-education-system-infested-by-corrupt-investors-with-political-protection,2585">MBBS doctor</a> in its hospital. But elected municipal officials responded to public demand during the pandemic, and the hospital now has a resident doctor, it provides maternity care, has a functioning laboratory and video x-ray equipment.In its 10 health centres across seven wards, Ichakamana now has four birthing centres. Says municipality chair Gita Kumari Gurung: “We don’t have to rush to Bharatpur, Kathmandu or Pokhara for medical treatment. It is all here.”Ironically, it is the government hospitals in big cities where medical care is not of high enough quality. Hospital staff often moonlight in private clinics, or get cuts from pharmacies which sell medicines they prescribe to patients. Families are therefore forced to admit relatives in expensive private hospitals in the cities, or go to India.Nepalganj Municipality built an urban health promotion centre and laboratory with Rs9.8 million from the Ministry of Health three years ago, but it is <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6644#.Ykg0H-5Bz0s">understaffed</a> because of insufficient budget.In Ghorahi of Dang, the health centre was upgraded with a medical doctor. An electrocardiogram and video x-ray were also added. But with no specialists, the equipment is in storage.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111140/63721bc29c7e80680e0bd455jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="700"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Local health facilities are now supposed to be managed by municipalities themselves, but even while the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-unveils-covid-19-budget/">budget</a> from the centre has been cut, they have not been given the authority to raise enough local taxes to pay for these services.“The central government still controls the budget, which makes it difficult to meet local needs,” admits Baburam Marasini, the former chief of the Epidemiology and Disease Control Division. “This means most local governments do not have the wherewithal to make the necessary policies, budgets, plans, and implement them.”Before 2017, it was the district health office that made all health related plans and polices under direction from the national government. With federalism, there is confusion about budget and jurisdiction that has not been cleared up in the last five years.“There is no consistency in policy and implementation,” laments former health secretary Senendra Raj Uprety. “Most local officials do not possess the qualifications or experience to draw up proper budgets.”Nepal set aside Rs141 billion for healthcare last year of which the largest chunk (74%) was for the federal level, only 5.16% for provinces, and 20.93% for municipalities.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/devolution-for-development/">Devolution for development</a>, EditorialLocal government budgets are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/at-the-covid-19-frontlines-in-rural-nepal/">not enough to address needs</a> at the grassroots. Health specialist Kedar Baral says the pressure on central hospitals can only be lessened by decentralising quality health care and making it more affordable.“If we do not improve the primary service, not only does access to health become more expensive, but the entire system can collapse,” he adds.Aside from <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/devolution-for-development/">municipalities that have prioritised health</a>, other local governments have wasted money on unnecessary infrastructure, buildings, or view towers.The reason local officials are not too interested in investing in health is because it takes up to two decades for returns on investment, remarks Guna Raj Awasthi of the Far-West Health directorate.WHO recommends that low-income countries must invest $83 per person per year in the health sector. In Nepal, this figure is a woeful $17.3 per person.According to the Nepal Health Sector Strategy 2015-2020, 31% of people are forced to travel to city hospitals, to pay above their means for essential services that should have been provided free locally.Says Marasini: “The increase in the number of admissions at hospitals in Kathmandu means that local health centres have failed. Otherwise, why would anyone spend five times as much for treatment in Kathmandu?”Translated by Ashish Dhakal from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/129086?fbclid=IwAR2C5ivPJUyvJjhJQdg6MTbMfctgza1RHHaglVxT_RvPY8sj942APHoQ56o">Nepali original</a> in Himalkhabar monthly.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health/">This is how to upgrade Nepal’s rural health</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

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Grassroots democracy promotes good health

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f05a9c7e80680e0359cdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2042" height="1417"/><figcaption>A massive rally organized in Kathmandu on Saturday in support of Dr. Govinda KC's demand for reforms in the Medical Education Bill.</figcaption></figure>Medical care should be affordable and accessible to all. In one sentence,<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/what-govinda-kc-wants,3869" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> that is all Govinda KC</a> wants on behalf of Nepalis.On Thursday, the government ordered police to use force inside a Jumla hospital where KC was on the 20th day of his hunger-strike <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/07/10/kcs-crusade/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">demanding an end to commercialisation of the medical sector</a>. Local administration admitted to media that it spread rumours that a policeman had been killed to convince KC to agree to go to Kathmandu.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f05e9c7e80680e0359cejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1001"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Amidst protests in Jumla and Kathmandu, and a nationwide hospital strike, KC finally agreed to be flown back on an Army helicopter, saying he wanted to prevent any more violence.The reason quality health care is out of reach of Nepal’s predominantly poor people is that subsidised government hospitals are so shoddy, ill-equipped, poorly-managed, under-funded and under-staffed.State neglect and mismanagement at its facilities means expensive private hospitals have stepped in to fill the gap. Medical care has therefore become a lucrative business, where rampant over-charging is the norm.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0619c7e80680e0359cfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But that is not where the real money is. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/corruption-and-greed-in-nepali-health-sector,1075" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The bonanza is in medical education</a>, where billions can be made overnight charging students for admission fees and royalty to feed the demand from private hospitals. It is no secret that the medical mafia enjoys strong political protection.KC’s main demands follow the recommendations of the Kedar Bhakta Mathema Commission two years ago: an end to universities giving random affiliation to new medical colleges in return for kickbacks, restricting universities to maximum five affiliations, limiting private medical colleges in Kathmandu Valley to ten. Successive governments over the past decade have promised to meet these demands to make him end his fasts, but never fulfilled them.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0649c7e80680e0359d0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3510" height="2340"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After the government restricted protests in Kathmandu, KC went to Jumla for his 15th hunger strike last month, where he was hounded by the local administration, making him seek refuge in the Karnali Health Science Academy.That was where on Thursday the riot police fired tear gas and rubber bullets to dislodge students and protesters blocking access to KC’s room on the third floor.Although there are more doctors in Nepal today than 20 years ago, the population has also increased in that period. Nepal’s doctors to population ratio is one of the lowest in the world: 2 physicians for every 10,000 people. KC’s demand is to spread medical care evenly throughout the country, not just Kathmandu.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0679c7e80680e0359d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3510" height="2340">However, with so much money involved, KC’s hunger strike is a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Govinda-kc-charges,4137" target="_blank" rel="noopener">direct challenge to Prime Minister Oli</a>, who is beholden to powerful businessmen with investments in the medical sector. Tycoon Durga Prasai, who owns B&amp;C Hospital in Jhapa, was a key facilitator in uniting the UML and Maoists to form the Nepal Communist Party. Rajendra Pandey and comrades have invested heavily in the Man Mohan Memorial and the Kathmandu National Hospitals. NCP backer Upendra Mahato (whose brother-in-law is Transport and Infrastructure Minister Raghubir Mahaseth, who also owns Medicity Hospital) reportedly wants affiliation for a medical college in Kathmandu.An erroneous report from Jumla that a policeman had been killed has been corrected in this updateAlso read: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nepal-medical-education-system-infested-by-corrupt-investors-with-political-protection,2585" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Manufacturing fake doctors</a>, Ramu Sapkota<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19560#.W1GhudUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Why some doctors stay and others go away</a><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f06b9c7e80680e0359d2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3510" height="2340">

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Risking his life to save lives

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

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

My father’s son

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

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