<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111132/6372193c9c7e80680e0baa8bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"/><figcaption>Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>When I got my first period, I had no idea how to use cotton pads, and sanitary napkins were not readily available. My mother taught me how to use homemade ones, but I worried it would fall off during physical activity.Growing up, I dealt with menstrual pain and cramps and asked my girlfriends to escort me to the toilet and monitor my skirt for stains. Gradually, I learned to practice menstrual health and hygiene. Thankfully, I had a very supportive family who did not practice period restrictions.For a lot of Nepali women, however, periods are a taboo and people hesitate to talk about it. Menstrual restrictions are still widespread, with girls and women not allowed to go to the kitchen, enter temples, participate in rituals, or perform household activities.Parts of western Nepal still practice chhaupadi where menstruating girls and women are banished to cowsheds during their monthly cycle, despite the practice being outlawed. The often suffer infections, animal attacks, and suffocation due to smoke inhalation and even sexual abuse in the huts.Menstruation is a natural process and yet traditional beliefs often outweigh the science. For example, women still tend to buy pads wrapped in newspaper because of the shame associated with it.Women and girls are not empowered enough to talk about it. Knowledge and awareness about menstruation, health and hygiene, and the opportunity for open discussion between men and women, parents and children, teachers and students are urgently needed.“I wear sanitary pads, and I wear them the whole day during my school. I don’t like changing it in school as there is no place to dispose of it,” a 15-year-old girl studying in Grade 8 in Indrawati Municipality in Sindhupalchok told me.Another girl aged 14 in the same class said, “My school provides us free sanitary napkins, but I hesitate as I have to go to the teachers’ room full of male teachers. So I wait for the lady teacher to be alone, it is difficult if she is in the class or meeting or absent. Therefore, I prefer not to get any pads from school.”Said another, a 13-year-old: “My mother said that I should not go to the temple or touch the statues of god during my period, because if I do, God will punish me, and I will fail my exam. I think it is bad blood and we are impure during this period.”Since 2018-19, we have been working on Sexual and Reproductive Health and Rights (SRHR) and focusing on Menstrual Health and Hygiene (MHM) by imparting knowledge and information to adolescents and by engaging parents and teachers.We are now installing pad vending machines in Indrawati Municipality, but there are larger societal barriers that we need to address. Students need to be engaged in orientations to empower them to understand their bodies, their rights and dignity to live as respectful human beings in society as well as in a dialogue with their parents and teachers.Everyday problems such as the availability of well-functioning toilets, water, sanitary products, napkin disposable pits or bins in the school to bring about sustainable positive change and consciousness about menstrual health and hygiene are also needed.“The orientation on menstruation was liberating. I had always tried to hide it, but now that the boys have also understood the matter there is no point hiding it,” shared a 12-year-old girl.A tenth grader told us, “Now I can ask my brother or father to buy me a pad if necessary and talk with teachers about proper toilets and other facilities.”“Since the teachers taught us that menstruating is a natural process and not something to be ashamed of, I am always questioning my mother about restrictions. My mother asked me to do it for the sake of my grandmother, so I followed it for her,” said the 10th grader.We now need to advocate for better menstrual health and hygiene management for all adolescent girls. It is possible for everyone to understand that menstruation is natural and something to cherish. It is crucial that we initiate a discourse to address hindrances, and impart knowledge, skill and information.Saki Thapa is Advocacy, Networking and Resource Mobilisation Manager, and Program Manager SRHR at Birat Nepal Medical Trust.

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Healthy periods

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121144/636ce4739c7e80680e0966aejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>How many of you have slept in a menstrual hut? The idea of a ‘menstrual hut’ might sound ridiculous to many but it is a real thing.In some parts of western Nepal, women are made to sleep in huts and even cowsheds away from their home during menstruation. In addition to being a clear violation of human rights, there are numerous cases of horrible experiences women have while observing this practice, known as Chaupadi.Practiced by Hindu families in Nepal and some places in northern India, Chaupadi is a menstrual taboo which considers periods to be dirty and impure.Women are at risk of physical and sexual assault during the time they spend in chau goths every year, coupled with cold temperatures and snake bites.The practice was banned in 2005. In 2018, it was criminalised. But the practice still exists in the absence of severe penalty. Currently, anyone who is charged and convicted for forcing a woman to observe Chaupadi is subject to a three-month sentence and/or a fine of a few thousand rupees. But the consequences slapped by the government on the guilty have done little to deter people from giving up the practice altogether.Lack of proper hygiene, safety and privacy during periods is one of the main concerns for women living in such shelters.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/">Tipping point on menstrual banishment in Nepal</a>, Marty LoganBut the practice of Chaupadi is not confined to western Nepal. A muted version of the practice is observed even in progressive cities like Kathmandu.In some households in Kathmandu, girls are not allowed to touch books during and after their period for three to seven days, making it harder for them to compete against boys in school.In cities, many families still do not allow the women in their families to go to the kitchen, touch the water tap or the refrigerator. Menstruating women can only eat and drink what is given to them.The rules prescribed to girls during menses is much worse in other parts of the country, all of them clearly boiling down to the patriarchy and society’s need to control women.It has always been extremely frustrating to me to witness a society that chooses to be advanced in some areas and traditionalist in other ways. Being selectively progressive and conveniently conservative does have strong undertones of cruelty.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/bloody-period/">Bloody period</a>, Nepali TimesMost Nepali women have said that menstrual taboo is mostly enforced by older family members and religious leaders because they probably grew up watching the same thing repeat itself in every generation.Nepal’s patriarchal society plays a huge role in enforcing such rules. But as women, some of us still follow aspects of it because it can be hard to change them if you grow up in that environment even if it does not make sense.I ‘violated’ some of the menstrual taboos when I went away for college because if I did not cook for myself during my periods, no one else would. However, the practice has been so deeply ingrained in me, that despite living abroad for 20 years I am still unable to light the incense and pray to deities during the four days.The belief is so deeply instilled in my psyche that I still feel a slight awkwardness buying tampons at drug stores. Every morning, I still light an incense to three Hindu deities in my house except for the four days of na chune. I do not want to force change; I want to evolve naturally.I understand now that it is difficult to completely change your ways, but it is not impossible to try to see things from another’s perspective. But most people never try. If a person who is having her period chooses to follow the rules, it is entirely up to her, but the problem is when you force it upon them, which is the case in many families.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/">Communicating to remove menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa BhattaraiGrowing up in a Hindu family in Nepal, I learned to acknowledge and accept that periods were ‘dirty’. During a cousin’s wedding in Kathmandu, I was not allowed to participate in the religious ceremony-- one of the worst experiences. It was aggravated by the fact that every aunty was telling me how sorry they felt for me. It made me feel like it was a bad thing to have periods and that it was bad to be a woman because I would not be in that situation if I was a man.Growing up, I used to see commercials for sanitary pads where women would be dressed in all white running around fields or deciding to take on a sport looking extremely happy. I wondered when I would be like one of them, only to realize years later that it was all a lie because the story was completely different in people’s homes.Girls and women are made to feel ashamed for this natural process and then treated like outcasts at home and in social settings-- discrimination in the name of religion.Rejecting social banishment is not meant to disrespect any culture or tradition, but a means to address the levels of awkwardness and discomfort experienced by women. Haven’t we moved forward enough in the world to not analyse and judge women who may be having their period?The other side of the story is that if a girl or woman, never gets her period, she is considered ‘barren’ which also does not have a positive connotation. Either way, women are not allowed to win.Girls need proper guidance and mentorship when they are growing up so they can understand that having periods is natural. It is not necessary for every girl to announce her period, but is important to teach all girls that this is not something they should be ashamed of.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/pandemic-deepens-period-poverty/">Pandemic deepens period poverty</a>, Geeta Pradhan

Anjana Rajbhandary

Shamed for bleeding

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba77e9c7e80680e073787jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1728" height="1296"/><figcaption>A woman gets Sayana Press suring the lockdown. Photo: IPAS NEPAL</figcaption></figure>For the past two decades, Basanti Paudel, 41, of Nawalpur had always used Depo-Provera to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-conceivable-reason-for-unwanted-pregnancies/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">prevent unwanted pregnancies</a>  Then last year, she was given a new choice: Sayana Press.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-far-from-hitting-contraceptive-target/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sayana Press</a>, a successor to Depo-Provera, was introduced last year in  Nawalparasi and Sindhuli and is a better option because it has a smaller dosage, comes with a small needle, can be stored at room temperature and is injected sub-cutaneously just under the skin rather than in the muscles, making it less painful. Sayana can also be self-injected at home and lasts for three months just like Depo-Provera.Basanti Paudel immediately took to the new contraceptive. “It is a much better, but I worry about its availability during the lockdown, and that I may have to go back to using Depo-Provera,” she says.Pabitra Acharya, 42, of the same neighbourhood also started using Sayana Press after her husband who was working in India came back home following Covid-19 pandemic. She would also like to continue using the injection but is also worried about its availability.“Once we decide on the contraceptive best for us, we should be able to access it each time. Using different methods affects our health,” Acharya says.Both women were at the Rajahar Health Post in Nawalpur this week to express their concern about availability. At the health post, Dev Bahadur Dahal  Nawalpur assured them that they would not have to go back to using Depo Provera.“The drug used in Sayana Press and Depo-Provera is the same, the only difference is the dose, which is 30% lower. We thought why not go for an option that has lower drug but is just as effective and not as painful,” says Lhamo Y Sherpa of Ipas Nepal, adding that depending on the results in the two districts, the new contraceptive would be scaled up to the rest of the country.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/implant-service-providers-take-contraception-to-nepals-poor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s contraceptive prevalence</a> rate at 53% is a dramatic improvement from 20 years ago, but it is still a long way from the government’s target of 75% contraceptive prevalence by 2030.Furthermore, the use of modern family planning methods has plateaued since 2006 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrating-males-and-population-decline/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">due to labour migration</a>. But the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/workers-return-to-jobless-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">return of hundreds of thousands of migrant workers from India</a> and the Gulf following the Covid-19 pandemic is leading to an increase in the demand of contraceptives. Which is why there is a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/baby-boom-expected-after-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">fear of shortages</a>  and also a break in the supply chain because of the lockdowns.According to the Nepal Demographic and Health Survey (NDHS) 2016, there is a 24% unmet need for family planning in Nepal — a quarter of women who need contraceptives are not using them.Sayana Press offers a new and easy to use contraceptive that can help meet the country’s unmet needs for family planning. It also gives women agency, especially because their husbands often refuse to use condoms.The new birth control device is already popular with women in Nawalparasi and Sindhuli districts and very few users have complained of side effects normally associated with contraceptives. In fact, users have reported fewer reproductive health complications.“For 20 years, I never got my periods regularly, once I did not have them for two years, and had to resort to medications to force my period,” says Basanti Paudel. “Since using Sayana, it has become more regular. It evevn seems to have brought down my blood pressure, and I don’t have nausea anymore.”Dilmaya Pariyar, 29, has been using contraceptives for 12 years and once every three months she needed to go to a health post to get a Depo-Provera injection, which was always followed by a week of pain in her arms, preventing her from working.“With Sayana Press, I haven’t had any pains. In fact, this has been the most suitable contraceptive for me so far,” she says. The other advantage is that Sayana Press can be injected at home with some basic training.There are some women who have complained of excessive bleeding for up to seven days after switching to Sayana Press, but according to a survey, the new contraceptive appears to have been well accepted in the trials which are conducted by the reproductive health agency Ipas Nepal and the Ministry of Health and Population (MoH) with financial support from the UK’s Department for International Development (DFID). Sayana Press is already used in 40 European countries.Of 1,112 women from 17-49 years of age who participated in the Ipas Nepal comparative study, 12% said they preferred Sayana Press to Depo-Provera. Participants also found the fact that it was self-injectible quite appealing.Says Bhim Singha Tinkaro, head of Family Welfare Division in the Health Ministry: “Given the positive results so far, Sayana Press can now be expanded to other parts of the country, and the ministry is expected to make a decision soon.”

New contraceptive for increased lockdown demand

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b708a9c7e80680e060082jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>It is easy to be cynical about recent reports of actions taken to end <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/blood-sisters-menstruation,839" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chhaupadi</a>, the traditional practice in parts of western Nepal of segregating menstruating women.Since December, hundreds of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chhau sheds</a> where women live during their periods have been demolished after the Home Ministry ordered district officials to strictly enforce laws that bar the practice. Local officials have warned they will withhold social security payments to anyone found to be involved in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">practice of menstrual banishment</a>.We have heard such threats from officialdom before, and many of the recently dismantled sheds were likely previously broken and rebuilt. But something does feel different now about the campaign to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">end the practice</a> that has killed more than a dozen women and girls in the past decade, most of them from exposure to cold, a snakebite or suffocation from fires to warm the windowless sheds in winter.Is this a tipping point? Could be. More positive news comes from <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nyaya Health Nepal</a>, the NGO that runs Bayalpata Hospital in Achham. It has 58 community health workers (CHWs), who are the hospital’s link to residents in the facility’s catchment area. Of them, 29 have not practised chhaupadi since working with Bayalpata and, according to the hospital, of the remaining 29, 25 have given up the practice since they started working there.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Uprety<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha Poudel<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b708d9c7e80680e060083jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2715" height="1891"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Initial interventions were done as sporadic informal discussions with CHWS, says Aradhana Thapa, healthcare design director at the hospital. They were followed by regular discussions in 2017, and then by interventions in 2018-19.“We started with baby steps, to understand the issue and help provide a safe platform for CHWs to openly discuss and support each other. Last year we added a few more interventions, including social mapping and reaching more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-curse-of-being-new-mothers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">pregnant women</a>,” added Thapa in an email interview.The mapping found that 66% of the 14,000 women of reproductive age in the hospital’s catchment area practise chhaupadi, compared to 50% of the CHWs before Bayalpata’s intervention. CHWs are required to have at least Grade 10 education, which is far above the district average, so does that higher level of education not explain the hospital’s success in helping CHWs give up sheds?Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">That time of the month</a>, Editorial“Education, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">understanding of menstruation</a> as a biological phenomenon universal to the general population, is allowing this change (in attitude about chhaupadi) to take place,” says Thapa. “However, there needs to be a trigger for that final decision. For many CHWs, that point was that they wanted to give up the practice themselves before preaching to other women.”Many activists say that chhaupadi is just the most extreme form of the menstrual segregation that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">occurs throughout Nepal among women of all socio-economic groups</a>, in rural and urban areas.In December, Parbati Raut of Achham became the last reported victim of the practice. But for the first time, an arrest was made over the death – of the woman’s brother-in-law Chhatra Raut, for banishing her to the shed. Unofficial reports from Achham say that he is out on bail, punished only with having to report to police twice monthly for three months.A 2005 Supreme Court decision outlawed chhaupadi, and a 2017 national law made forcing a woman to use a shed punishable by up to 3 months in jail or a fine of Rs3,000. Yet, these changes, along with various local regulations that punish the practice or reward women who reject it, have failed to end it.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">"Menstruation is not a private business, it's everyone's business"</a>, Reeti KCIn one ward in Achham senior citizens’ allowances were reduced as punishment. It was effective because older family members have the strongest ties to beliefs that underlie chhaupadi, such as that not going to the shed once a month will anger gods and result in sickness, or worse, in a village.CHWs have leveraged such local initiatives in order to give up the practice, particularly campaigns to destroy huts that are led by women. “It is the fact that these are led by local women that makes them so effective. I think it's peer influence, pressure, that's playing its part,” says Thapa.For other CHWs, the decision was driven by practical considerations -- absence of caretakers for their children, in cases where the women do not live with their in-laws and their husbands had to be away for work. Says Thapa: “They ended up sitting at home to ensure care for their children.”

Marty Logan

Tipping point on menstrual banishment in Nepal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezfdhBKEtsEGrowing up in Chitwan, Radha Paudel’s father used to tell her stories of faraway Jumla: how it took weeks to walk there, the cold snowy winters, the Tila River on the banks of which were the world’s highest paddy fields. She was fascinated.Paudel became a nurse and, as luck would have it, was posted to Jumla with a safe motherhood program. The maternal mortality rate in the Karnali at the time was at sub-Saharan levels. The strict patriarchy made it an epicentre for neglected reproductive health problems among women.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21465&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Upreti<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21434&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">That time of the month</a>, EditorialNepal’s armed conflict with the Maoists was at its peak, and Jumla suffered several rebel raids. Paudel witnessed the fierce one in Jumla in 2002 in which hundreds, including the CDO, DSP and civilians were killed. She survived by hiding under a bed all night as gunfire and bombs were going off outside.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a269e9c7e80680e043a26jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>CODE RED: Nurse turned writer turned activist Radha Paudel discusses dignified mentruation at her work place in Kathmandu this week. Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>“It was terrifying, I fainted. Then I asked myself what drove them to take up the gun. I found the answer: the class, caste and gender discrimination in the region,” Paudel recalls.She wrote a book, Khalangama Hamala (The Attack on Khalanga) that described not just the night of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4589#.XGFoddIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">battle</a> but the harsh condition of life for the people of Jumla. The book was awarded the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Nurse-book-wins-Madan-Prize,1670" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Madan Puraskar</a> in 2013 and brought the plight of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3046#.XGFpl9Iza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karnali</a> to national attention.After a career as nurse and writer, Paudel is now a full-time activist trying to address practices like menstruation restriction on women, which symbolise entrenched gender inequality not just in Jumla, but all over Nepal.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a19c7e80680e043a27jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1422" height="888"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Paudel is back with a second book Pavitra Ragat (Pure Blood), and like her first one this book also deals with blood-letting — only this time it is about the discrimination and taboos women have to face during their periods.The story began in Paudel’s own childhood, and she writes about how her mother and sisters were made to stay away from the kitchen and temples during menstruation. She had seen girls who menstruated for the first time isolated for three weeks, so when it was her turn Radha ran away from home to her sister’s place.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a49c7e80680e043a28jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The book is searing in its honesty, and the practical difficulties Nepali women face during <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/That-time-of-the-month,3098" target="_blank" rel="noopener">adolescence</a>: not finding enough rags to soak up the blood, always worrying if the blood is leaking through clothes, and asking classmates in school if her skirt is stained, not drinking water so that she didn’t have to go to toilet and risk losing her rag…As a nurse, Paudel conducted research on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/bloody-period/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">menstrual practices</a> and found that many rural women in Nepal did not even know about panties and pads, they bled freely all day, and in many households women took turns to use the same rags. The book is graphic, and not for the faint-hearted reader as it describes the monthly reality for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/why-is-female-sexuality-still-a-taboo-in-Nepal,2908" target="_blank" rel="noopener">many Nepali women</a>.When Paudel got her first job, she proudly bought herself proper panties and new, clean cloth to use during menstruation. But, she realised the situation had not changed for many of her fellow-women in Jumla.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha PoudelToday, Poudel is not just spreading awareness but manufacturing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">biodegradable sanitary pads</a> at a factory in Chitwan, and training young women about how to use these washable pads that do not leak.Paudel explains why it is important de-glamourise modern sanitary napkins: they are made of synthetic materials and take up to 1,000 years to degrade. Much of the plastic waste dumped by the trails in Nepal are made of discarded sanitary pads.Besides making an environmental statement, Paudel also wants to promote dignified menstruation and remove the taboo surrounding menstrual ostracisation, the practice of chhaupadi in which women in western Nepal are banished to the cow shed once a month.“Menstrual isolation is a human right violation, it isolates women by barring them from kitchens, water sources, temples, schools, and homes,” says Paudel. “This means women are treated like second class citizens, or not even human.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a89c7e80680e043a29jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="753">Paudel is determined to also change the image of Karnali as being a backward, illiterate and primitive region. For instance, Nepal’s 2018 Criminal Code prohibits the practice of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/period-of-banishment,3529" target="_blank" rel="noopener">banishing</a> women to chhaupadi huts during menstruation or childbirth, but does not address more general menstrual restrictions practiced all over Nepal. Limiting the crime of isolating women to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/blood-sisters-menstruation,839" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chhaupadi</a> unfairly points the finger at only western Nepal.Women dying of suffocation or snake bites in menstrual sheds make headlines, but not the everyday humiliation women everywhere are subjected to. Paudel says the ceremonial demolition of chhaupadi huts is misdirected. “Even if you replace the huts with a 5-star hotel, that is still discrimination,” she says.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Menstrual shaming</a> exists all over the world, not just in Nepal. Just this month, Unicode approved a droplet of blood as an emoji to symbolise menstruation. Plan International lobbied for the emoji because its poll found that nearly half the girls and women in the UK between 14-21 were embarrassed about their periods.Across the world, women use code words when they refer to their periods, and Nepal is no different. Paudel lists some of them: chhui, chhau, nachhune, para sarne, all describing the isolation and stigma women face.Radha Paudel now wants to go beyond physical aspects of menstrual ostracisation to psycho-social and religious beliefs that make many women themselves firm believers in the taboos. Part of the reason she wrote the book is to demystify menstruation so that students, families, men and women can <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Girl-talk-period,2377">talk about it openly</a>.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pad Power</a>, Ziyu Lin<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/stereotyping-women-as-victims/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stereotyping women as victims</a>, Radha Adhikari and Jeevan Sharma

Communicating to remove menstrual taboo

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26849c7e80680e043a1djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="902"/><figcaption>DEFYING TRADITION: This cow shed in Kailali used for menstural banishment. It has now been turned into a store room for rice husk.</figcaption></figure>Media reports of the practice of chhaupadi are full of harrowing tales of suffering, and women dying of cold or suffocation during their monthly exile to the cowshed.A recent trip across eight districts in Nepal’s Far West revealed a critical mass of women who are defying the practice and overcoming the superstitions that perpetuate it. Each of the women have a different reason for shunning the shed, but together they are breaking an entrenched taboo that has come to epitomise gender discrimination in Nepal.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Communicating to remote menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21434&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">That time of the month</a>, EditorialIn Achham, a 23-year old girl bravely decided to stay at home, even though her mother goes to the shed. On occasions when they menstruate together, the daughter cooks food inside and takes it out for her mother. She says indignantly, “The municipality says there must be a toilet at home, but no one ever discusses that women must not be forced to live in cowsheds.”Nirmala BK, 30, is also from Achham and is an example of how a mother’s courage can help eliminate practices like chhaupadi. Since she was not allowed to cook during her periods, Nirmala’s children would walk through town carrying flour, and beg people to cook roti for them. After seeing how miserable they were, the mother resolved to stay home and cook during menstruation.Some women have supportive husbands who empowered them to break the taboo. In Bajhang one woman said her husband pressured her mother-in-law to be allowed to stay indoor during her periods. “My mother-in-law still tries to find out whether I am menstruating or not, but I just tell her a white lie that I took a medicine to stop the bleeding,” she added.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26889c7e80680e043a1ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1057"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a268a9c7e80680e043a1fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1044">Ramaroshni Giri stays at home during menstruation for safety reasons, but has gone one step further to break the taboo about milking livestock during her periods. “If I don’t do it, the cows will not give milk, and besides, none of the cows have died,” Giri says.A teenage girl in Achham kept her monthly cycle a secret because her mother threatened to kick her out of the house if she stayed indoors.One day, coming home from school the girl was shocked to see that her younger siblings had gone hungry all day because their mother was in the shed. She flew into a rage against her mother: “Does our religion say the children have to go hungry?” After that outburst, the mother now stays home and cooks even during her periods.There is superstition that the shaman will shiver if a menstruating woman touches him. So, 35-year-old Gangadevi Bista from Doti decided to test that. Feigning an illness, Bista showed her hand to a dhami during her periods, but not a shiver from him. She made sure the whole village found out about it.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a268d9c7e80680e043a20jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1149"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26909c7e80680e043a21jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="778"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A restaurant owner in Achham has abandoned chhaupadi , saying her business would collapse if she banished herself to a shed every month. “The elders, dhami and jhankri have all eaten the food I cooked even during my periods, none of them fell sick,” she says.A Dalit woman almost lost her baby son while she was in the shed in winter. She fell asleep with her eight-month-old in the shed and they were both nearly killed by a fire. She has not gone back to the shed after that.Many equate chhaupadi with poverty, but it is a product of a deep-seated patriarchy. In spite of positive changes, the practice continues and the pain of many women proves that raising awareness alone is not enough. Chhaupadi has already been criminalised by law, and needs to be strictly enforced.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nation-holding-up-half-the-district,489" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Holding up half the district</a>, Kunda Dixit<h2>Vending machine for pads</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26939c7e80680e043a22jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="831"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Students at the Gyanodaya High School in Kathmandu do not have to worry about getting their periods while in class, forgetting to bring sanitary pads, or even skipping school for a few days every month. The school has installed a vending machine for its 1,300 female students and 75 female staff which will provide a napkin after dropping a Rs 1 coin, but the users have to pay Rs 5 to the school for the added cost.The students in Grade 6 or 7 who get their periods for the first time, often while in school, are the ones who are going to benefit the most from the vending machine, the first sanitary pad vending machine in Nepal, and Gyanodaya has established itself as a menstruation-friendly school.The school, whose students achieve one of the highest pass rates in SEE exams in the country, expects the girl students to do much better in class now that they don't have to worry about their periods so much."We used to face hassles when we would forget to bring pads, and it was troublesome to borrow from classmates, we used to have to leave school and go home," now we don't have to worry about it anymore," says Ganga Sapkota, a student.Principal Natikaji Maharjan, who also teaches science at the schoool, says the curriculum places a priority on studying reproductive health so as to remove the taboos and superstition surrounding menstruation.He says this is a pilot project, and the school hopes to set aside a budget for free distribution of the pads from next year. “It will help in spreading awareness about mestruation as being a natural biological process,” he says.From the Nepali PressShanti Tamang in Setopati.com, 14 Feburary<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://setopati.com/social/175077?fbclid=IwAR0wvMka4BR4PCNJVDc8vJn3GdI3e_4hKTzJW-Eqa_TsJYx6LH3LVjYNn1E" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Full story</a> in Nepali here.

Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26669c7e80680e043a12jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1099"/><figcaption>Illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>The practice of chhaupadi in which women in western Nepal are banished to cow sheds during their periods grabs a lot of media attention within Nepal and internationally, eclipsing the much more widespread and entrenched menstrual restrictions in the rest of Nepal.As cruel and inhumane as chhaupadi is, journalistic coverage as usual tends to be event-focused, headlining only deaths due to suffocation, snakebites or exposure. There is little context to explain that the practice is now much less widespread as literacy improves, and after it was outlawed.As public health specialist Aruna Uprety <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">reports from Accham in this issue</a>, young women and mothers across western Nepal are now defying this superstition. But that is not ‘newsy’ enough for the international media.To be sure, it is a travesty that young women are still dying because they are forced to fend for themselves in the flimsy huts, where some fall prey to the cold, infections, wild animals, or rapists. Chhaupadi is cruel and an egregious violation of the human rights of women, perpetuated by conservative societal norms.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21465&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Upreti<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21456&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Communicating to remove menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa BhattaraiBut while women in western Nepal are cast out to spend four days every month in sheds, in other parts of Nepal they are confined to isolation in separate rooms. They are not allowed to cook or eat in the kitchen, cannot touch taps, and are supposed to keep off places of worship. These are not poor and illiterate women in rural Nepal, but college graduates, upper and middle class urban women in Kathmandu, and even the Nepali diaspora.Many women believe the superstition about menstrual ostracisation and willingly follow the practice, thinking crops will wither, livestock will die, cows will not give milk, or that their fathers and brothers will die if they ‘pollute’ them during their periods. Festivals like Rishi Panchami reinforce these beliefs, where women apologise for all the ‘sins’ they many have committed, even unintentionally, during menstruation.Women are also excluded from festivals and auspicious occasions, forced to find distant water sources for washing, and left out of schools and work. More damaging is the emotional toll: women feel humiliated and dehumanised as they grow up feeling powerless from a young age.Writer and menstruation activist <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Radha Paudel in her new book</a> released this week, Apavitra Ragat (Impure Blood), argues that all menstrual restrictions are human rights violations, not just chhaupadi. She says the demolition of chhaupadi huts and the distribution of sanitary pads, while being important interventions, do not address the continuing isolation of women during their periods, and their feelings of inferiority that it perpetuates.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha PoudelPaudel suggests that the focus should be shifted to a more holistic advocacy where all members of society accept that menstruation is not impure. For that, communication and education are key, and the campaigns must include men, as well as school teachers, health workers, faith healers and community leaders.Positive stories also need more coverage because not everything about menstruation is regressive in Nepal. Over the years, increasing numbers of women have started questioning this tradition, and have proactively and collectively broken the taboo. Education has brought about dramatic change, spreading knowledge among students and their parents about the biological reasons for menstrual blood.The accounts of women who suffer in cow sheds are tragic, but much more compelling are the brave stories of those that have countered the practice in Nepal’s most conservative communities. They prove that reform is possible, and can be brought about by the combined strength of many ordinary women fighting for justice and rights for themselves and their children. They show that courageous progressive women exist in the same places where the taboo is strongest, and where those extreme cases of deaths and despair are reported.Ultimately, dignified menstruation for women all over Nepal should focus not just on hygiene and safety through sanitary pads and alternatives to chhaupadi huts, but on making sure that women are not shamed by menstruation and are free to participate in any activity, whether or not it is ‘that time of month’.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pad Power</a>, Ziyu Lin<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/stereotyping-women-as-victims/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stereotyping women as victims</a>, Radha Adhikari and Jeevan Sharma<h2>10 years ago this week</h2>Ten years ago this week, the<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15656#.XGZRbFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Ass’ Backside Column</a> in edition <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/438" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#4</a>38 of Nepali Times of 13-19 February 2008 was titled “Go back to sleep’. It was a spoof on the elected Maoist government honouring the PLA anniversary. Excerpt:Go back to sleep, we’ll wake you up when things start getting really exciting around here. As things stand now, nothing is really happening. Politicians are all up to their ears in party affairs, and no one has any time for the country. The southern plains and the eastern hills have been locked down now for weeks, but PM PKD has all the time in the world to helicopter over to Panchthar to attend his army’s anniversary. Defence Minister Cloudy was off in western Nepal attending a Tharu council. This whole week, the Baddie brass has been busy getting organised for the three-day gala war anniversary in Nawalparasi. All the UML members of the cabinet, including the Hydro Minister, will be out of action for another week because of the party convention in Butwal. And next week Nepal’s Other Army will be celebrating its own Army Day on Shivaratri.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/438"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26699c7e80680e043a13jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="511" height="814"></a>

That time of the month

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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