Nepali activist Radha Paudel who works on dignified menstruation through her foundation shows in her new book just how pervasive menstrual discrimination is around the world.&nbsp;
Menstrual Stories: An Anthology from Global South is replete with tales of stigma, taboo, mockery, disrespect, shame, teasing, bullying by boys that persists.&nbsp;
Radha Paudel is a nurse who has worked in government hospitals across Nepal, and wrote an harrowing account about being caught up in the Maoist attack on Jumla in 2002. She turned into a dignified menstruation activist because of the discrimination and ostracisation she herself faced while growing up in Chitwan.
She established the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation and Radha Paudel Foundation which hosted a six-month virtual fellowship in 2023 with participants from Austria, Bangladesh, Costa Rica, Malawai, Nepal, Nigeria, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, and the UK.&nbsp;
The book is an outcome of those interactions where campaigners across the world spoke about their own experiences of having their first periods, the reaction of their families, school mates and peers.
A thread running through all the stories is that no matter where in the world women are, rich countries or poor, North or South, educated or uneducated, menstrual taboos persist to a greater or lesser degree.
There are stories of girls not telling their parents because the first bleeding was “too sensitive”, the restrictions on the freedom of young women by family members, schools not teaching reproductive health with accuracy and the right values.
In one school in Dhaka, biology text books had the chapter on sexual reproduction stapled shut. Many young men in Colombia’s conservative Catholic families even refused to answer questions in a survey about menstruation, and some confused menstruation with masturbation.
In Nepal, the lack of separate restrooms for girls in schools and shame about menstruation has contributed to the high female dropout rate after Grade 5. The practice of chhaupadi in western Nepal is an extreme form of menstrual banishment.&nbsp;
Paudel does not like the word chhaupadi because it is “too neutral”, and does not convey the discrimination.
The books also has examples of women across the world resisting the stigma and taboos, and spreading awareness.&nbsp;
A marathon runner in the UK recently ran without pads and ‘let the blood flow freely’. A Chinese athlete who won a medal at an international sports event was frank in her answer to a question from the media about her performance: she said she was having her periods.
Writes Laura Contreras-Aristizabal from Colombia: “It is ironic that despite the fact that more than half of the world’s population is made up of women and menstruating individuals, menstruation is still stigmatized and a taboo subject.”
We know there are even more serious problems of female genital mutilation in some parts of the world. But for the more pervasive and persistent occurrence of menstural discrmination, this slim volume offers practical solutions in schools and society to ensure a more dignified approach to accepting the monthly biological cycle in women without stigma.&nbsp;

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Menstruation is normal, period

- On 20 December 2016, 45-year old Dammara Upadhya of Achham’s Timilsain village suffocated to death from a fire to keep away the cold in a windowless shed where she was banished during menstruation. - That same day in the same district, Roshni Tiruwa, 15, of Gajara village died of asphyxiation in a menstrual hut, called 'chhau.' &nbsp; &nbsp;- On 11 January 2018, Gauri Budha of Turmakhad of Achham died of suffocation in a chhau shed.&nbsp; - On 10 June 2018, 22-year old Parvati Buda died of a snakebite in a chhau shed - Amba Bohara, 35, along with her young sons Suresh and Ramit, died on 18 June 2018 when their chhau shed burned down in Agaupani village of Bajura. - Parvati Buda Raut, 22, died of asphyxiation inside a menstrual hut on 1 December 2019. Police arrested her brother-in-law for forcing her into the shed, and the court sentenced him to 45 days in prison. After that tragic death of Parvati Buda Raut, national outrage forced the Home Ministry in Kathmandu to launch a menstrual hut demolition drive across the Karnali and Sudurpaschim provinces.&nbsp; The Ministry directed the 19 districts in the two provinces to search-and-destroy all sheds used for menstrual banishment. Over 10,000 huts were reportedly razed, most of them in Achham, and 100 local governments declared themselves ‘Chhau Free’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240926100940_e9f5b6b3a20ac656082579b559ae314858dea12fdcec6916e70b253c7a5b3006.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240926100940_e9f5b6b3a20ac656082579b559ae314858dea12fdcec6916e70b253c7a5b3006" data-rendition-name="original" width="8160" height="4592" loading="lazy" alt="Banning banishment is not enough"> <figcaption>Chhau hut torn down by local government. </figcaption> </figure>  However, after the pandemic many sheds have been rebuilt by locals who believe that women are unclean during menstruation, and keeping them at home will invite divine wrath with failed harvests, illness and livestock deaths. Tuli Saud, 40, lives in the Selpakha village of Achham and has been spending her periods inside a chhau hut for decades. Now, she has two daughters and two daughters-in-law, all of whom stay in the same shed in her backyard for five days every month during their menstruation. The small shed is windowless. The mud floor is constantly damp during monsoon and covered in straw. When they get their periods at the same time, which happens often, Tuli and the other women in the family have to share the cramped, dark space. During the district-wide campaign to demolish sheds in Achham, Tuli’s menstrual hut was also torn down. She even helped destroy other huts in her village. But the practice of chhaupadi, and the stigma around menstruation has been harder to destroy than &nbsp;huts. When Tuli had her periods, she spent five days in a tent where the old hut used to be. Eventually, the family built another mud and thatch shed because the tent was uncomfortable. Tuli fears that no one in the family will come into the house or eat what she cooks if she does not banish herself to the hut. Indeed, peer pressure to conform comes not just from society at large but from elder women in the village who believe the superstition about menstrual impurity. “If the rest of the women in the village stop going to chhau sheds, I am ready to do the same,” says Tuli. “I cannot wait for my menopause.” Tuli Saud’s neighbour Deusari Auji, 40, also rebuilt her shed and spends her periods there. She lived in the hut for weeks at a time after the birth of each of her five children. Mothers who have just given birth are also banished to these huts.&nbsp; “This is our custom, it will anger the goddess Kali in the nearby temple if we stop practicing it,” says Auji with conviction.&nbsp; Deusari shares the tiny shed with her mother and sister-in-laws when they get their periods at the same time. “It is difficult to breathe and sleep,” she admits. “But we have to endure that hardship.”&nbsp; Many deaths have occurred due to asphyxiation because the women light fires in the confined windowless spaces during bitterly cold winters in the mountains.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240926100940_e2717a357435e98375be6a9b6526cbd8449ca956755e74460dae7df6920c433b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240926100940_e2717a357435e98375be6a9b6526cbd8449ca956755e74460dae7df6920c433b" data-rendition-name="original" width="6112" height="6112" loading="lazy" alt="Banning banishment is not enough"> <figcaption>Inside a chhau hut.</figcaption> </figure>  Ram Bahadur Saud’s wife and daughter started spending their periods inside their home after the family chhau hut was demolished four years ago. But his family was ostracised by villagers, so he rebuilt the demolished hut. Nisha Nepali, 14, of nearby Kamalbazar has learnt about reproductive health at school and the risks of spending her periods in a hut. Yet, she is banished to the shed by her family for five days every month during her periods, when she cannot attend school.&nbsp; “I cannot even do my homework because there is no light in the hut,” says Nisha, who grew up in India before her family moved back to Nepal. Local schoolteacher Srijan Dhakal Kunwar explains that women continue to banish themselves to menstruation huts because they firmly believe that they cannot offend the deities in nearby temples. &nbsp; Khadga KC in the Achham district capital of Mangalsen angrily made a new hut for his two daughters-in-law after the old one was demolished by the government.&nbsp; KC is a shaman and believes that ill-health will befall those who touch a woman during her periods, and attributes his own chronic illness to having once being touched by a menstruating woman. “I do not care what anyone says, the chhau hut in my house is here to stay,” he states. “Why should I listen to what other people have to say instead of listening to my god?” Even locally elected officials like female ward member of Chaurpati village Basanti Saud spend their periods inside the family shed, and actually believe that things are better than before. Saud tells us why: “The sheds used to be far away before ours was demolished, but that is not the case anymore. Every family now has their own hut.” Achham’s Chief District Officer Shiva Prasad Lamsal admits that laws and demolition drives will not be enough to change deeply held beliefs. His office is therefore concentrating on raising awareness against the superstition. Accham police chief Ishwari Prasad Bhandari agrees community support is needed to restart the demolition of huts so they are not rebuilt.&nbsp; Activists point out that even if they are not banished to huts, many women across Nepal suffer ostracisation and stigma in one form or other, even in educated families. Menstrual discrimination is not only a crime, but also a serious health risk to women. Nutritionist Aruna Upreti says forcing girls and women to live in cowsheds after childbirth or during their periods makes them prone to accidents, infections and undernourishment at a time when they need a balanced diet. Entrenched cultural beliefs are hard to eradicate, and provincial and local governments are also reluctant to push for radical reform because of societal backlash. The region where oppressive menstrual discrimination is most prevalent is in the constituencies of powerful politicians like Sher Bahadur Deuba, who has become Nepal’s prime minister five times. Radha Paudel, a dignified menstruation activist, agrees that local governments must mobilise to end the practice (below).&nbsp; “Menstrual discrimination is like caste discrimination, and besides laws it must be a dedicated part of school curricula,” says Paudel. “Our pad distribution campaigns try to convince women that banishment to menstrual huts is a dangerous superstition.” &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Raped in the hut</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240926100916_306720c02f1663dfe99f062a5e83f456902e6222d18a6442ebca12f47a8a1bae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240926100916_306720c02f1663dfe99f062a5e83f456902e6222d18a6442ebca12f47a8a1bae" data-rendition-name="original" width="6112" height="6112" loading="lazy" alt="Banning banishment is not enough"> </figure>  Of the 16 women in Sudurpaschim Province who were killed in the last 17 years in menstrual huts, 14 died in Achham district. Aside from fatalities from asphyxiation or snakebites, menstrauting women have also been victims of rape and molestation. In June, a young girl in Achham was raped by a relative as she slept inside the shed to which she was evicted during her periods. Neighbours found her unconscious and took her to the District Hospital in Mangalsen.&nbsp; A police complaint was filed, but that was 19 days after the assault. The Grade nine girl had been raised with her brother by their maternal grandmother after their mother died, and her father remarried.&nbsp; “He began to follow me six months ago, and had on one occasion come into my house when I was alone and forced himself on me,” the girl told us in a recent interview. The police have demolished the shed where the rape took place, and the case is pending in court.&nbsp; <h2>The Law</h2> Chhaupadi was banned in 2005 by Nepal’s Supreme Court, and three years later the Ministry of Women, Child and Social Welfare set guidelines to banish the practice. Sub-section 3 of section 168 of the National penal Code 2017 stipulates that ‘Banishing a woman to a shed (chhaupadi) during menstruation or delivery, or subjecting, causing to be subjected, her to similar other discrimination, untouchability or inhumane treatment of any kind is prohibited.’ Anyone who commits such an offence is liable to a three-month prison sentence, a Rs3,000 fine, or both. This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG logo"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Banning banishment is not enough

<figure><img width="2000" height="1333" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dca9c7e80680e0af3d8jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>After watching the Netflix drama<a href="https://www.netflix.com/title/81004536"> </a><a href="https://www.netflix.com/title/81004536">Bombay Begums</a> recently, I was encouraged to see that mainstream cinema has started giving space to a female character going through menopause and experiencing hot flashes. This is probably a first in the Subcontinent's cinema.The series did not captivate me as much as this rare portrayal of a woman during menopausal transition in a s<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-one-nepali-mother-at-a-time/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ociety that is so steeped in </a>patriarchy, and an issue that even women in Nepal do not want to address. The same kind of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/">taboos that dictate menstruation</a> also affect menopause, the two biological events that bookend the life of women.The general assumption is that this is not something that should be talked about openly, and the prevailing misconception is that women’s health consists only of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-far-from-hitting-contraceptive-target/">pregnancies and contraception</a>. Health after menopause is either ignored or dismissed. This is prevalent not only in the public, but also among us health workers who have limited knowledge on the matter. We need a fundamental change in how we view women’s health to understand menopause better.Women today are living much longer than their mothers and grandmothers. Assuming most women have menopause between 45-50 years, they still have a considerable number of years left to live, which makes understanding menopause even more essential. Menopause is a natural biological process, and not a ‘disease’ or ‘sickness’ that some health workers and drug companies try to make it out to be. It is much like <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/">menstruation or menarche</a> where girls experience pain only to disappear with time, with only a few needing medical treatment. <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Much of this</a> is managed with a few simple home remedies. I used to carry a hot water bag and my mother used to make me soup with garlic and fenugreek to relieve the pain. Once in a while, I also needed a painkiller but not often. When I was 48, I started getting irregular menstruation and within a year, my periods stopped completely. I did not have other health problems like palpitation, dizziness, night sweats, hot flashes headaches and irritability, often described by many pre-menopausal or menopausal women. There is no way to predict who will and who will not experience such symptoms. But this can be avoided or reduced by adopting <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/living-to-eat/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">healthy eating habits</a> and exercises while still in our prime.This is explained in detail in Our Bodies, Ourselves: Menopause, a book I was gifted some time back. Given that it dealt with a matter largely untouched in this part of the world, the book's message was a pleasant surprise.It was eye-opening in a lot of ways. I learned about various mental and physical health issues associated with menopause, and how detrimental it is not talking opening about it.Menopause can be highly stressful for those going through it. In addition to physical discomfort, women get skin spots, gain weight and develop wrinkles. But one must accept these changes, be prepared and still strive to lead a healthy life without giving too much importance to appearances.  <img width="400" height="497" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dcd9c7e80680e0af3d9jpeg.jpg" alt="">Our body transforms with age, and everyone starts losing bone mass after the age of 35. Bone loss in women increases after menopause. This book has important tips on how to slow down this process: consume foods high in calcium and vitamin D, sunbathe and exercise daily. Whole grain, green leafy vegetables, lentils and fruits should make up a large chunk of the daily diet. Say <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/we-are-what-we-eat/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">no to junk and processed foods</a>, carbonated drinks, extra sugar and fatty items which may give her osteoporosis later in life.For optimum health during menopause and after, a woman should also avoid smoking which interferes with the way bones absorb calcium and weaken our bones.Every woman has to go through menopause, but it is largely up to us to be prepared and make the experience as less painful as possible, physically as well as mentally. This book succeeds in sending the message across. Although written by a medical doctor, <a href="https://www.ourbodiesourselves.org/publications/menopause/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Our Bodies, Ourselves: Menopause </a>is an easy read. The author has interviewed many women to document the myriad of experiences they have had and hence is very relatable. Some health workers consider menopause as a disease and have developed ways to treat it. Here in Nepal too, there is now hormone therapy for women who have undergone menopause. The book argues that it is unnecessary, and instead has negative impacts on women’s bodies. By emphasising that menopause is a natural process and that most women have a relatively easy time with the transition, this book tells you that the hormonal changes of menopause affect each woman differently, they just need to work out how best to manage those changes. And while every woman is unique, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/we-are-what-we-eat-aruna-uprety,3954" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">attention to diet and lifestyle</a> can do wonders in relieving discomfort as well as help with estrogen deficiency. The author combines trustworthy medical information based on the best available evidence with thoughtful analysis of the social, cultural, and political forces affecting our health. Inspired by this read, I have decided to write a book on menopause in Nepali so that all women, young and old across the country (as well as men) are educated about this transition and are prepared with the necessary tools to tackle it. Aruna Uprety is a public health expert and the author of the book Khana Khanu Bho?

Talking about life after menopause

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111120/636cd1129c7e80680e08f892jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="1500"/><figcaption>Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>Her hair is up in a pony tail some days. Some days, she wears it in pigtails. I rarely get to see her face up-close, but watching her from my balcony I can tell that she is mostly laughing. Her eyes, if not her throat. She is called Jyoti.I have known Jyoti for less than a year.When we moved to Kathmandu’s suburbia, we came to a place packed with three-storey houses that had quickly replaced paddy fields. All houses here look similar. Each is two and a half-storey, mostly built on chaar-aana lands, with pointy rooftops, popularly known as ‘namaste’ in the local construction lingo.The only thing that gives the houses some character is their colour. They come in the brightest hues you can imagine—from parrot green to fuchsia. This is the post-civil-war, new Kathmandu —stretching in whichever direction it can, both horizontally and vertically.Even with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-year-of-living-dangerously/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the lockdown</a>, new houses kept cropping up in our neighbourhood. They went up overnight, sometimes. Jyoti’s father is one of the realtors in the area. His job is to slice the fields into little plots, and find buyers for them.Another of his jobs is to make sure Jyoti doesn’t go out to play with the neighbourhood boys. But the kids show up anyway, and often I overhear conversations like this one:“Jyoti! Jyoti!”“What do you want?” Jyoti’s father puts his torso out the window and shouts at the boys standing below his window.“We want to go play. With Jyoti,” they say.“She isn’t here. Go away!”“We want to play with her.”“She isn’t here,” he tells the kids.“Where is she?”“She’s gone to the temple.”“I know! I know!” says one of the boys. “It’s some festival today when all women go to the temple. Let’s go there and find her.”“No need to go there. Go home!” The father shouts.“I’m going to start fasting, too. Next year onwards,” shouts the first boy.“How old are you?” asks the father.“Nine. And he’s seven,” he says, pointing at the boy in his tow.“And who told you that you would have to start fasting? Fasting is for women,” says Jyoti’s father.“I know. But boys could do it as well. I am going to start fasting next year,” says the nine-year-old. They race off on their bikes.Jyoti returns. She’s dressed in a red kurti and walks alongside her mother, who has donned a red sari. Just like the other women in the neighbourhood. She follows her mother obediently inside the gate and disappears..…“Jyoti! Jyoti!”“I told you boys to go away. She won’t be playing with you all anymore. Badmasharu!”“Okay, we will come back for her later.”….Jyoti tries to wrench a pole from the roadside, employing all her strength.“No!” the boy screams. “That pole is to keep the electricity wires from sagging. They’ll kill us.”“Okay, but we need to find two poles to build us a badminton court,” says Jyoti. And they disappear in the neighbourhood, returning after a few hours with two poles, Jyoti dragging one of them.….“We need to build a kennel for the puppy. I shall get him a box from my house. It will be your job to dig up space, so we can build him a kennel,” says Jyoti.The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/woof-of-fresh-air-for-street-dogs-in-kathmandu,4132" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">puppy</a>, barely a few weeks old, cuddles in the warmth of Jyoti’s arms. Other children wait their turn to hold the puppy. When Jyoti’s hands tire, she hands the puppy to other children.By the end of the day, a cardboard kennel has been built. One of the boys has brought a piece of foam to serve as the mattress.“We will call this one Bruno,” announces Jyoti. No one contests it.Bruno also has a bowl for milk now. They put him in the cardboard box and leave him in the open space in front of Jyoti’s house, before parting to return to their respective homes.….Bruno has gone missing.The children confirm from some people in the neighbourhood that a woman was seen dragging the puppy towards the wasteland. The day is spent in search, but Bruno is nowhere to be found.Next day, Jyoti deploys her team in different directions. They speed off on their bicycles. Some walk, interrogating random people in the village about Bruno. No one seems to have an idea.On the third day, Jyoti and team interrogate the adult community dogs.“Blink twice if you’ve seen Bruno,” orders Jyoti.“Blink once if he went left. Blink thrice if he went right. DO NOT blink if you haven’t seen him.”But the adult dogs stare at Jyoti and team, huff a little and lie down on the badminton court, turning their backs towards the sun.….Jyoti is sitting in front of her house with Mahi. They are sitting close and talking in whispers. When they walk by my house, I see that Jyoti is holding a kitten, wrapped in a scarf.“You adopted a kitten,” I say.“Yes,” she smiles. Then she asks, “You cut your hair?”“Yes, I cut my own hair,” I say.“It looks nice. I like it,” she says, smiles and then walks away with the kitten snuggled in her arms.….Jyoti is wearing a loose top and her hair is up in a pony like one of those girls from <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/k-pop-in-k-town/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Korean dramas</a>. She clings to her mother, who stands on the terrace, talking to a neighbour. She has not been allowed to leave the house for days. Neighbourhood kids show up asking for her and then leave, disappointed.“Bring your bicycle up to the terrace and keep it there now. You’re a big girl. You can’t be riding around when you have your <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">periods</a>,” I hear Jyoti’s mother tell her.Jyoti drags her bike up to the terrace, leans it against the kitchen wall, then grabs it and sits on it, astride.Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

Welcome to suburbia

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915110/636bb2789c7e80680e07bae4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="930" height="620"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Period stigma has long blighted the lives of young women and girls in Nepal, but the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ensuring-menstrual-hygiene-during-nepal-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ensuring-menstrual-hygiene-during-nepal-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFRijVaIWllHBMsdGej-K1GWY9sUw">pandemic is making things worse</a>. If action isn’t taken to help girls menstruate safely, hygienically, and with dignity, Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGthfvaonsA70ekl3khwSP5i87ZrA">gradual progress in tackling taboos</a> and stigma around menstruation risks being undone.Families are spending long days, weeks, months indoors, and the continued lockdown is reinforcing harmful practices and stigma around menstruation. We have all come to realise the importance of routine hand-washing, but hygiene does not stop there. Menstruation does not stop during a pandemic, nor does the intense stigma associated with it in Nepal.Even without the pressures of the lockdown, many girls and women in poor, rural parts of Nepal simply do not have access to clean running water and soap. They also do not have menstruation pads, and even when they do many find themselves <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGkUXe1S5cwSBXCUsDHIGPMJFT67w">facing stigma in the household</a>, making their day-to-day lives all the more difficult.In communities where our Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) works, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFwh8i-WtKzK-Z0JIQog2-ixKuTOw">chhaupadi</a> still persists despite the government’s ban on so-called <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/their-songs-from-the-forest/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/their-songs-from-the-forest/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEa0nTiimV03Cl0KYM5qIyPLMx5Vw">‘period huts’</a>, and a three-month prison sentence and fine for  forcing girls to menstruate in huts. But some are still sent to caves and other locations which put them at risk.To remain ‘clean’, girls are forbidden to touch communal objects in the household. Menstruation untouchability is still practiced and promoted, and even the Nepali word <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/menstruation-is-not-private-business-it-is-everyones-business/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE4ZcZ-SxFHOZnulUF2iMVhGjGCLA">nachhuni</a> literally means ‘untouchable’.Women and girls are separated and not allowed to touch and enter kitchen and prayer room. They cannot touch male members of the household, and there is much mental pressure by the family and community members to maintain untouchability norms and practices. Failure to abide by them sometimes leads to ostracisation.At the individual level, it is a painful experience and there are long-term psychological effects of period stigma on girls’ self-esteem, especially among trans and disabled women and girls who face double marginalisation. Some of these women make up our frontline healthcare workers during the time of Covid-19, leading to increased anxiety during the lockdown.Added to all this, the economic crisis is leaving young women and girls unable to afford menstruation products, particularly as prices for sanitary pads have spiked.Last year, the government committed to providing every girl with sanitary pads to help them  continue to go to school in a dignified way and succeed in studies. This year, we reached many girls with the products, helping them stay in school and realise their dreams.This year the government has also allocated funding to provide sanitary pad distribution to schoolgirls. But with schools closed across Nepal for nearly six months now, the goal of reaching every schoolgirl with sanitary pads has been badly interrupted. We are now hearing that girls are resorting to makeshift solutions, risking infection and complications.The pandemic has disrupted every facet of life, but the fight to realise women’s rights to menstruate safely and with dignity must continue. Under the lockdown, VSO is providing hygiene kits to some 4,000 girls across rural Nepal, especially in areas where menstruation taboos and stigma persist.The kits include soap, chlorine wash, underwear and a hygiene kit bag. Prior to the lockdown, VSO also trained over 2,000 young women and girls across four districts to make reusable sanitary pads, a skill which many have put to good use under lockdown.The <a href="https://www.wsscc.org/media/resources/government-nepal-calls-dignified-menstrual-hygiene-management" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.wsscc.org/media/resources/government-nepal-calls-dignified-menstrual-hygiene-management&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHLw7xJvPvYa4obERECweTvlx_SxA">Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHMPA) Alliance Nepal</a> is a national network supporting over 80 initiatives to tackle period stigma in the country which works to shape policy and campaign for change. Its activities are constrained under the lockdown, but the mission to end period stigma across Nepal will not stop.The Nepal government has shown its commitment to end period stigma and other forms of gender inequality. While we fight Covid-19 together, we must also use this moment to ensure the promises we have made to young girls are kept throughout the pandemic and beyond.With the virus continuing to spread in Nepal and schools not opening any time soon, we are calling on national and local governments to honour their original commitment and ensure girls receive free menstrual products even when they are not in school.We have come a long way in improving the rights of women and girls in Nepal, legislating for increased participation of women in politics, while improving their rights in the home. Tackling period stigma is a fundamental part of moving towards a more equal society, and overcoming the barriers women face in public life.We can be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGthfvaonsA70ekl3khwSP5i87ZrA">proud of the progress we have made</a> in challenging harmful practices like chhaupadi – and by working together as communities, civil society and government we can make sure that the pandemic does not hinder, or even reverse, our progress.We must use this moment to leverage the partnerships we have built in recent years between civil society and government to ensure that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599021346631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGZh3CqDbtQwCnrdB1XdP0dbuVDag">women and girls are not left behind</a> today, and can thrive when the pandemic eventually ends.Geeta Pradhan is the global lead gender adviser at Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO). She has worked in the Asia-Pacific and Africa.

Pandemic deepens period poverty

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba62c9c7e80680e073706jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="481"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>In July 2019 when I was 36, I wrote <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Girl-talk-period,2377">an article</a> about how I struggled to believe that periods are not impure after over two decades of getting my first period.Growing up in a Newa Hindu family in Nepal, I acknowledged and accepted that periods were dirty. The persistence of menstrual taboos is  ingrained even among Nepali women, and during a cousin’s wedding in Kathmandu, I was not allowed to participate in the religious ceremony and had to watch it from afar.Chhaupadi’s monthly banishment of women to the cowshed is an extreme form of this superstition, but na chune (no touching) is widely practiced to this day, even in some educated and well-to-do families.One would think that being surrounded by strong and positive female role models here in the United States, and reading about how one should embrace having my periods as a part of being a woman, I would feel less shame. But I did not.The belief is so deeply instilled in my psyche that I still feel uncomfortable buying tampons at drug stores. Every morning, I still light an incense to three Hindu deities in my apartment for the four days of na chune. I also do not wear my rudraksha pendant during my periods. I do not want to force change, I want to evolve naturally.In late 2019, I decided to take a break from the hormones that I was directed to take to regularise my monthly periods -- and the periods stopped.Between July 2019 and 2020, a lot changed in my life. With the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/8-ways-to-keep-well-during-a-lockdown/">COVID-19 pandemic taking over the world</a>, my anxiety reached an all time high and I knew I had to do something about it.A friend of mine in Nepal had been a devout follower of Sadhguru, and I always admired her outlook on life -- she was always calm and composed even in the most stressful situations.Winter in Chicago can be brutal and rather depressing, so I decided to get Sadhguru’s book Inner Engineering. I listen to his videos on YouTube on anger, anxiety, and compassion.I also started doing yoga in March with everyone’s favorite Adriene Mishler (of Yoga with Adriene) and I make it a point to do it every single day-- even if it is for 10 mins. Sadhguru says that discipline is not control, but having the sense to do what is needed. And I needed yoga.In May 2020, I also completed his Inner Engineering program and, the combination of yoga and lifestyle changes changed my life.Since March, I have started getting my periods every month. That had never happened regularly before without hormones. My pulse rate has dropped by over 20 points since February, and my doctor said that it means that my body is running more efficiently at a relaxed pace.Over time, I noticed I am sleeping better and waking up well-rested without struggling to sleep in. I am more relaxed. I do not feel easily irritable and frustrated by things that used to upset me quite easily.My energy and enthusiasm level remain consistent all day. Family, friends, and work do not feel stressful like before. The situations in my life have not changed much except the pandemic, but I do not struggle internally like I had for years.I feel more mindful. I am also taking better care of myself by eating foods that are good for my body rather than the taste. I do not turn to food for my anxiety.In this difficult time, I chose peace because there is no time like now to start. For me, peace of mind is true acceptance of how things are. I acknowledge my differences from other people without trying to change them.I am focusing on making myself better by accepting my uncomfortable thoughts and feelings, this is where I need help. I still struggle with issues of anger and jealously, but I acknowledge those feelings and try to act consciously than react compulsively.I am starting to let people be and start focusing the energy on myself to move forward. I accept the fact that people only change when they want to change.This does not mean I put up with what I do not believe in. I take things as they are without giving in and, I stick to my values. I am smart about the future, but I do not worry constantly about it.Right now, I acknowledge that this is the way life is. At the same time, I do everything in my ability to improve the situation and take responsibility for the world I live in.I have seen positive changes in my life within the past six months and I like the type of person I am becoming. I am happier, I am less stressed as my body is proving it.I might still struggle with periods as being a natural part of biology but I am proof that with yoga and guidance, Sadhguru in my case, we can change our lives and be happier. I feel more capable of handling anything life throws my way.I am learning how to manage my mind and it is making a world of difference and significantly improving my quality of life. I enjoy moment to moment experience.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/yoga-for-emotional-resilience-not-only-to-be-fit,2470">Anjana Rajbhandary</a> has been writing the occasional column <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/all-in-mind/we-women-do-not-need-to-be-rescued,567">All in the Mind</a> for Nepali Times.

Yoga in the time of Covid-19

<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

<figure><img width="1500" height="1440" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a64f69c7e80680e059906jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>GRASSROOTS: Activist Radha Poudel has spent her career working for dignified menstruation. </figcaption></figure>Menstruation in Nepal has become synonymous with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chhaupadi</a>, the tradition of banishing women to cowsheds for five days during their periods. The practice is infamous in western Nepal — where another segregated woman died in Achham district this week — but the belief that a menstruating woman is dirty, impure and untouchable is pervasive country-wide.Nepal is one among many countries globally to consider menstruation a taboo. The topic is spoken about in hush-hush tones and only among women who are on intimate terms — but one activist is fighting such attitudes.“Menstruation is not private business, it is everyone’s business,” says Radha Paudel, who has been working to abolish the menstrual taboo for almost 40 years.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Communicating to remove menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Uprety Paudel started to speak publicly about menstruation at age 15, when she was studying to become a nurse, and quickly realised that the taboo was due to lack of education. She vowed to teach people what she was learning, and her parents were her first students.During her childhood, Paudel had seen her elder sisters being mistreated by neighbours and other villages when they stayed in the cowshed during their periods. It scarred and scared her.  Traumatised, the nine-year-old left her home in Chitwan to commit suicide because she did not want to live as a girl.Paudel obviously failed to kill herself, but the young girl never stopped dreaming about being a man in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/patriarchy-in-an-oligarchy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">a patriarchal society</a>, where the odds were always against women. Now as a grown woman, she helps young girls accept and not be ashamed of the natural process.“Out of 30 days, when 5 days of menstruation make no difference in the daily lives of women, that will be dignified menstruation,” says Paudel. She believes that excluding a woman from any daily activity amounts to destroying her dignity, whether it is barring her from a religious task or excluding her from a certain part of the house. Paudel tells Nepali Times that upholding women’s dignity during menstruation should be activists’ priority, ahead of other issues like accessibility of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">sanitary products</a>. The menstrual taboo, she argues, encourages men to be powerful and women to be powerless.Two years ago, the Nepal government drafted a policy on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/that-time-of-the-month/">dignified menstruation</a>. This year, the Radha Paudel Foundation and its partners are taking the initiative to mark 8 December as the Day for Dignified Menstruation. It will also be marked globally, by friends and partners of the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation. An international workshop is scheduled to take place in May, 2020.Menstruation activism has created a global solidarity of sisterhood. One example is the 2019 Oscar-winning documentary Period. End of Sentence by Iranian-American Director Rayka Zehtabchi. It focuses on women in India who fight the stigma of menstruation by opening a sanitary pad manufacturing company. It is evident in the film that their voices are being heard and the veil of ignorance is ripping apart.Read also<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/bloody-period/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bloody period</a>, Nepali Times<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/blood-sisters-menstruation,839" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Blood sisters</a>, Sangita Thebe-LimbuBut Paudel thinks the documentary’s approach is insufficient. “It talks only about a sanitary pad company and doesn’t talks about dignity.” Likewise, she does not support the idea of period poverty, labelling it a foreign concept: “It focuses on accessibility of sanitary products but not the taboo attached to them. Distributing pads without providing this information promotes the idea that menstrual blood is dirty and must be hidden, which creates a negative impression.”

“Menstruation is not private business, it is everyone’s business”

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ad59c7e80680e04593djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1500"/><figcaption>Oligaun is an hour by foot from the district capital at Mangalsen of Achham. It is less remote than most villages and is made up of mixed families of Chhetris, Pariyar and Mijar. Mangala Nepal Rastriya Madhyamik Vidhyalaya offers technical education, and is he only one of its kind in Achham. Most households at least one member – mostly the men – working in India. Many young people aspire to leave. It is common for girls to marry by 16 even though the legal age of marriage for girls is 18 with parental consent and 20 on their own. Chhaupadi was outlawed in 2005 and criminalised since August 2018. Oligaun has been declared Chhaupadi-free by local authorities, but the tradition persists. All photos: UMA BISTA</figcaption></figure>Photographer Uma Bista’s exhibition Our Songs from the Forest is a gentle invitation into the remote mountains of Achham where we meet young women coming of age in a fast-changing society.The women are learning to navigate superstition and ingrained patriarchy in their community while balancing it alongside new aspirations of equality. They are asking questions, and pushing boundaries.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ad89c7e80680e04593ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1600"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2adb9c7e80680e04593fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1200"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2adf9c7e80680e045940jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1600"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ae29c7e80680e045941jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1600"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ae59c7e80680e045942jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1600">Women are considered impure during menstruation, and even though the practice of being banished to the cowshed during their periods is now outlawed and is gradually fading away, it is still happens. These brave women are challenging societal norms, and trying to speak against the superstition that perpetuates the practice.Many women still believe that the gods are angered if they do not isolate themselves in the outhouses every month. They are held responsible for ills that might befall the family, especially the menfolk, if they break the rules.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2ae89c7e80680e045943jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="2000"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2aec9c7e80680e045944jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Despite new laws that criminalise these practices, the fear runs deep: fear of angering the gods, fear of being labeled immoral, fear of being ostracised by the community, fear of change. Can such fears be replaced by the fear of legal consequences? Will destroying the sheds free us of the tradition associated with them?Uma Bista takes us into the forests around Oligaun, where the young women seek freedom from the inequality they face daily and the shame they are forced to endure every month. In the forest, the skies are open, the air is free and they feel no fear. They can sing and laugh as loudly as they wish.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2aef9c7e80680e045945jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="2000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2af29c7e80680e045946jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1600"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811118/636a2af69c7e80680e045947jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1600">Our Songs from the ForestTill 10  AprilChhaya CentreThamel 11AM-7PM(01 )5543501 (photo.circle)

Their songs from the forest

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

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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