<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100132/63bfd4139c7e80680e0d3089jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2502" height="1824"/><figcaption>Photo: NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE/BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>The organisers of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cup-of-the-world/">FIFA World Cup in Qatar</a> must have thought that it was fitting that the final game on 18 December coincides with Qatar’s national day. But it is even more apposite because 18 December also happens to be International Migrants Day.The irony is not lost. The final game (may the best team win) marks the end of a tournament built on widespread abuse on the day honouring migrant workers.For Nepali workers who contributed to build World Cup infrastructure in the past decade, this should have been a moment of national pride. While rooting for Messi's magic, we could also be celebrating football history being made in breathtaking infrastructure built by fellow Nepalis.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100132/63bfd4169c7e80680e0d308ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2983" height="1056">Instead, there are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/my-uncle-died-in-qatar/">many Nepalis boycotting the games</a>. Others have expressed frustration over campaigns seeking compensation for the abused. Many Nepalis watched the games with a bitter aftertaste — love for the beautiful game tainted by the blood, sweat and tears of compatriots.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/my-uncle-died-in-qatar/">My uncle died in Qatar</a>, Ramu KharelThe host country and the football governing body FIFA are both set to make billions in profits. But <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pay-qatars-world-cup-workers/">demands to compensate families for the deaths of relatives have been ignored</a>. Financial support will not make up for their tragedies, but it would have provided some relief.Neither FIFA nor Qatar are particularly low on resources. Yet they have blithely ignored reports of abuse of workers. They accuse critics of hypocrisy and engaged in whataboutery about historical atrocities committed by colonial powers.But what the din of the cheering crowds at Lusail Stadium <a href="https://www.ilo.org/gb/GBSessions/previous-sessions/GB326/WCMS_459148/lang--en/index.htm">drowned out are valid concerns about workers</a> who were abused and never compensated. What about the families of the deceased who died to make this tournament possible?But as we reported during the 2018 World Cup, quoting a Qatar based migrant worker from the documentary The Worker’s Cup: “It is not about the worker. It was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-workers-football/">never about the worker</a>”.The stories of mourning families in Nepal are happening here and now. They are grieving while the world is transfixed by the glamour and glare of the stadium lights.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/qatar-refuses-payoffs-to-world-cup-stadium-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Qatar refuses payoffs to World Cup</a> <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/qatar-refuses-payoffs-to-world-cup-stadium-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">workers</a>There may be unending disagreement on the actual number of deaths of migrant workers in Qatar, or if they occurred during construction of the stadiums. But the stories of bereaved families knee-deep in loans are well documented. Despite Qatar's advanced health system, many of the workers' deaths are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/fifa-a-chance-to-improve-welfare-of-nepali-workers-in-qatar/">attributed to unexplained causes. </a>Many of the deaths of workers are not unique to Qatar, but the tournament has helped bring them to light. Yet, the hosts managed to pull off this global event denying the scale of deaths, or calls for compensation, telling people to instead just <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-workers-football/">focus on football.</a>Qatar is set to host other mega events, including the 2023 AFC and is vying for the Olympics. Saudi Arabia has its eyes on the 2030 World Cup and has started laying the foundations for its $500 billion NEOM city project.These will be built and delivered on the backs of migrant workers, including Nepalis. <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2021/08/02/migrant-workers-and-qatar-world-cup">Restrictive regimes</a> will continue to limit freedom of speech and punish any migrant worker who dares to speak up. Governments from countries like ours will self-censor, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-bootiful-game/">ignore their own citizens being unpaid, abused or left to die.</a>Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-rights-legacy-of-the-fifa-world-cup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Labour rights legacy of the FIFA World Cup</a>, Meenakshi Ganguly and Mohna AnsariWorkers will <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men/">continue to leave Nepal in droves to transform deserts into cities</a>. These jobs are important, even transformational, for some families. Landing a good employer is like winning the lottery.Many families buy land, build houses, afford education for their children or medical bills for parents back home. So the exploitation is tolerated by families who depend on the money, or by the country whose economy depends on those remittances.It is unfair to blame just the host countries as some of the gravest abuse begins in Nepal with workers drowning in debt by the time they land in Qatar. It is governance failure and corruption back home that is a major push factor, and ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/manpower-agencies-of-Nepal-are-the-ones-against-zero-cost-migration-policy,2402">manpower</a>’ agencies in Nepal also blatantly cheat workers eager for jobs overseas.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pay-qatars-world-cup-workers/">“Pay Qatar’s World Cup workers</a>”It does not matter how Qatar won the World Cup hosting rights, why in the world Saudi Arabia wants to build a fantasy city, or what steps Malaysia is taking to ramp up medical gloves production. It will not matter that origin countries including Nepal are complacent and complicit in the abuses their citizens face abroad. Abject poverty and the desire to provide for families back home overshadow all other concerns.Jobs, even without safeguards, will always be a superior option to no jobs. This is the reality of a workforce that does not want to be limited by finding work back home, or the Nepal government’s own apathy to push for stronger, tangible migration reforms.After the 2022 Qatar World Cup is done, it is unlikely that the next mega project in the desert will be any different to maximise the gains of international migration and its abuses minimised.More vanity projects, more jobs. More remittance. More uncompensated abuse. More silent boycott. More global events in which the poorest pay a steep price. More deafening silence from our government. More viral stories on coffins received at the airport by broken families.The only difference is that the bodies will now arrive in more than one international airport in Nepal.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cup-of-the-world/">Cup of the world</a>, Nepali Times<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-workers-football/">The workers’ football</a>, Upasana Khadka<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/">Rights referees blow whistle on World Cup fouls</a>, Kunda Dixit

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18 December

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/639057299c7e80680e0ce143jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="720"/><figcaption>Coach Lekhnath Lamsal with his volleyball team in Pokhara after his return from Qatar.</figcaption></figure>This is the 19th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667462176137000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2dJwfp-y2h_cWMn9Bj77nK">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. For most people life is a continuous transition from one stage to another. Not for me.I am in my mid-40s, currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree with students who are my son’s age. My life is a series of seemingly random vignettes strung together in no particular order. Yet, in retrospect, they have collectively shaped who I am today.As a school student in Pokhara, I suffered from a bone disease that caused body ache, restricted my mobility and caused recurrent fever. After expensive visits to hospitals, I finally landed a good doctor in Delhi who cured me. Had there been a delay in treatment, he said, and I would not have been so lucky.His last words before discharging me from hospital still rings in my ears:  “Forget you were ever sick. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you. From now on, bring out your inner courage and zest for life.” And I did.When I started Grade 11, I felt like I had been given an empty slate to start a new life. I was finally free of pain, and anything was possible.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/6390572b9c7e80680e0ce144jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="732" height="762">I developed a love for sports, especially volleyball, which I was surprisingly good at. Standing tall at 1.88m, I was the best spiker and was known for my ability to jump high. My interest in studies decreased as my love of the game increased. The cheers of supporters made me feel formidable. On the volleyball court, I was king.I was getting noticed and had started to build a fan base. The chief of Pokhara police recruited me, and I got even better at the game with practice and training. Before long, I was in the national team playing in different tournaments, including the South Asian Games.My salary was low, and I couldn’t even afford to buy new shoes when they wore out. A pair of sports shoes cost more than my entire month’s pay.  Life was getting unaffordable, and I had responsibilities to provide for my family. Which is why I had to take the difficult decision to leave for overseas work, just like everyone else. I was passionate about volleyball, but there was no future and security in it.This is the reality of Nepal. Whether you are a national player or not, all roads eventually lead to the Gulf or Malaysia.In 2002, I got on a plane for Qatar where I was to work as a security guard. My wife was pregnant back in Pokhara with my daughter, our second child. This was a time when there were not as many Nepalis in Qatar.I eventually spent 14 years in Qatar, my new home. During that time, I was promoted five times, and ultimately became a branch manager overseeing other security guards in the company. My starting salary was 900 QAR but by the time I left, it was 7,000 QAR ($1,900).I was luckier than most Nepalis. I knew that because I had taken bodies of migrant workers to hospital, or watched construction workers struggle in the extreme heat for low wages in Qatar.I also managed to find time to play volleyball in tournaments organised by the Qatar Volleyball Association between various nationalities. There were moments when cheers from fellow Nepalis gave me an adrenaline rush and a powerful feeling.I was lucky enough to go home frequently, every two years initially and once a year after my last couple of promotions. But then my daughter Alisha became ill, and I had to rush back to Nepal. <figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/6390572e9c7e80680e0ce145jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="540" height="960"><figcaption>Lekhnath Lamsal at a volleyball tournament while he was working in Qatar for 14 years.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/6390572f9c7e80680e0ce146jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="1920"><figcaption>Lamsal with his daughter, who died at 16 while undergoing treatment for cancer.</figcaption></figure>She, too, was having chronic body aches and it was hard for her to move. I had to find out what was wrong, and nip it in the bud. It reminded me of similar symptoms I had as a child, and recovering in a hospital in India. Except in my daughter’s case, doctors found a tumour.I could not extend my one-month emergency leave. My wife stayed back in the village with our two sons while I took my daughter to hospital in Kathmandu. Doctors removed her tumour, after which she had to go through several rounds of aggressive chemotherapy.My savings from the job in Qatar made it possible for me to afford to pay her medical bills which had racked up to almost Rs6 million. Friends who had known me through volleyball across the world as well as colleagues in Qatar pitched in, donating Rs1.7 million. This generosity brought enormous relief at a time when I was feeling lowest.My daughter kept her spirits up throughout her struggle. Once, she told me that she was not going to make it and had a premonition that the end was near. Her body was unable to handle the painful side effects of chemotherapy. I could feel her slipping away.The image of her looking frail and small in the ventilator is etched in my heart. It is painful when I remember how we communicated with each other through eyes blurred with tears, as she tried to make a few feeble gestures and I struggled to mumble words of comfort. I was not ready to say goodbye.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/639057329c7e80680e0ce147jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figcaption>Lekhnath Lamsal back in Nepal, where he has enrolled at age 42 in a bachelor’s program in a college where he is also a part-time coach.</figcaption></figure>Ten days after she had shared with me her premonition, Alisha passed away. She was just 16 which her whole life ahead her. It has been four years now.I am too old now to play volley professionally, although I play in tournaments for 40+ year olds here and there. I have no interest in going back to Qatar because I will have to start from scratch.So I picked up where I had left off, and recently joined a bachelor’s program in sports management at Gandaki College, while working as a volleyball trainer on the side. I hoped to improve things for players so they would not have to struggle as much as I did.Players, who should be at the centre in Nepal, are nowhere in the priority list. Like everything else in Nepal, sports governance has been infiltrated by politics and vested interests.Although I am two decades late, I realise the importance of education and a degree. My class mates are half my age, and I switch back and forth between being their guardian figure and friend.I study hard and am a grade topper in my cohort. But university homework does not relieve me from my household responsibilities, I am up by four am every morning taking care of household chores, including tending to our cow and buffalo.Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667462176137000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3A3GJLtuseTTIMh0KZ3_i5">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad.Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.Read more:  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a>

Work hard, play hard

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209fe9c7e80680e0b5576jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"/>As a truck driver in Saudi Arabia, I am always on the move. That’s how it has been since 2011.Jeddah is almost 1,500km from Jubail, where I live. Places en route like Riyadh only allow trucks at certain hours of the day, so we take stops in between and wait. Including sleeping breaks, it takes us almost 36 hours one way to reach our destination.The road goes on and on and on. You feel like you have been driving forever, only to realise there is still 1,000km of asphalt left.It tests your patience. Fortunately, there are other Nepali drivers on the road.  The dreary driving is mutual so we keep each other company on the phone throughout our journey. When my phone is quiet for a bit, I get a call from a fellow long hauler who reminds me to stay awake. Then he tells me a joke.This is the camaraderie I share with my fellow gurus. Yes, just like back home in Nepal, we call drivers ‘guru’ here in the desert, too.In Nepal, trucks have funny or inspirational messages painted on their back. It is not allowed here. But some of us have managed to just write ‘Nepal’ on our trucks.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/">In the mind of Nepali migrant workers</a>, Upasana KhadkaDuring food stops, we pool our resources and cook together in our tiny makeshift kitchen in the truck. It is more fun and easier that way, but also saves us money. Of course, we always opt for dal, bhat and chicken curry.After doing this for 10 years, I have never got tired of the magical way the sand dunes on either side of the highway change their colours and textures. These are shades of reds and browns that I have never seen before.We get to the point from where there is another 600km more to go, and that is when I start feeling more upbeat. As we get closer to our destination, our mood starts to shift. By the time we have less than 50km left, we start honking at each other in celebration and there is a huge sense of relief and accomplishment even though we may have done the route many times.My first few trips were exciting. I had places to be, things to deliver. But it soon started feeling monotonous. Day turns into night, and into day again,  and you are driving along in that endless ribbon of road.Of late, I have started opting for shorter routes which are quicker and also better for my health. Now that I have worked in the company for many years, I have a say on my route preferences.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/63720a009c7e80680e0b5577jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="858" height="643">It is easy to get lost in thought on the road here in the Saudi desert. I ran away from my home at age 11 to India to be a domestic worker, taking care of my employer’s children who were older than me. Life has not been easy.Before driving these humongous trucks, I worked as an auto-rickshaw driver and then a personal driver in India for a pittance. My license in India was fake, since I was only 15. I shaved my chin so that my facial hair would grow, but it did not. When I was questioned about my youthful looks, I blamed my Nepali genes. The sahu employer bought it. Or maybe they just wanted someone sojho he could trust to work for cheap.The first time I came to Saudi Arabia after paying Rs70,000 to a manpower company, I <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/long-and-winding-road-home-to-nepal/">landed a terrible employer</a> and returned to Nepal prematurely after getting sick. But I knew I had to go overseas again -- what other option did I have?With my second child on the way, I was so desperate when I came to Saudi Arabia the second time that I thought to myself: “Even if things do not go any better and I die there, it will still be better for my family because they will at least get around15 lakhs from the Foreign Employment Board and insurance as compensation.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrant-worker-finds-farming-in-nepal-more-rewarding/">Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding</a>, Naresh NewarThis time, though, I landed a good employer and have not looked back since. This coincided with my daughter’s birth -- and as they say, with her arrival so did Laxmi enter our house.Even with a good job, I again started feeling ill in Saudi Arabia just like I had the first time. I was always drowsy and weak, and it was difficult to muster the strength to even get through the day driving the truck.One of my Indian colleagues noticed this, told me, “For the next two weeks, drink four to six liters of water a day.” I did that and immediately started feeling better. It was a miracle, and something as simple as drinking lots of water. I did not know that I was severely dehydrated.My life could have taken a completely different turn had it not been for this small piece of advice from a colleague. I remember him with gratitude.I share my room with three other Nepalis. But even in the cramped space, we have managed to create our own individual corners. Our work and sleep schedules do not always match. But even when we are in the same room, we are all glued to our phones most of the time speaking to family, or reading news from Nepal.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/63720a039c7e80680e0b5578jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="902" height="676">Even though I have lived in Saudi Arabia for over a decade now, I have barely had any interaction with local people other than people at the airport. Just like in India, my supervisors in Saudi Arabia have all been Indians. My colleagues are either Nepalis or ajnabi foreigners. I speak mostly Hindi and Nepali, although I have picked up some basic Arabic.I think domestic workers here are the ones who learn to speak Arabic fastest since since they live with locals families and deal directly with them on a daily basis.Unlike <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-long-wait-before-flight/">many Nepalis</a>, my colleagues and I were lucky during Covid-19, as we had work. We continued to deliver goods from the port to nearby markets. Everything was shut down and the no-entry rules during certain hours in cities meant the roads were empty. We drove like kings.But soon, I tested positive. Again, unlike <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-migrants-again-caught-up-in-2nd-wave/">many Nepalis who even lost their lives in Saudi Arabia</a> during the pandemic, I was well taken care of. But when I was in isolation, my mother passed away in Nepal to a non-Covid related cause.I was trapped as I was Covid positive, but also because of the travel bans that had shut out the world. I mourned the loss of my mother in isolation. It was also painful that neither my brother nor me, both of us migrants in the Gulf, could be there for her final rites.Read also:  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/his-last-journey-home-to-nepal/">His last journey home to Nepal</a>, Shankar DahalWe had made enough money to take care of her long-term illness that may have even extended her life by a few years. But we had failed to be there with her in the last moments. An uncle performed the funeral on our behalf.Perhaps it is that experience or because I recently turned 36 that during my dreary journeys on the road, that I have started longing for home more intensely. I want to spend time with my family now, it has been too long and my children are all grown up.How many more times must I call my wife to confirm that I have sent her money for that month's expenses, and that she should spend it wisely? Hemanta Rana captured it very well when he sang “चालिस काटेसी रमाउँला”. I am now nearing age 40 that he sings about, when we can start taking things easy after years of toil.My friends tell me there are better opportunities in places like Portugal for drivers like me, and I am tempted. But just for a moment. But I quickly decide against it. I want to be back home in Nepal soon, and make up for the time I have lost to be close to my family.Till then, म खाडीमै छु, म गाडी मै छु. Here I am still in the Gulf, still in my truck.   Translated from a conversation with a Nepali driver in Saudi Arabia. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/mindful-of-migrants-mental-health/">Mindful of migrants' mental health</a>, Upasana Khadka

Diaspora Diaries 3

Four Nepalis who had been held hostage in the Southeast African nation of Malawi have been rescued by the Nepal Police Human Trafficking Bureau. They had hoped to go to the US, yet were rescued and returned to Kathmandu on Monday.All four had got in touch with an Indian agent a year ago, who had promised to take them to the US through Bolivia, which has visa on arrival at La Paz for Nepalis. Subjected to mental and physical torture in Malawi, they were freed in coordination with local police, and their families bought their flight tickets home.Those rescued informed police that there are five other Nepalis in Malawi, who have been unable to contact police. Two other Nepalis who were stranded in the country and did not have money for air tickets have also been rescued. Malawi police arrested Indian national Najir Ahmad, who had sheltered the human traffickers.Among those rescued, one is aged 36, and the others are below 26. The human trafficking ring had taken them to Malawi in a convoluted route through Vietnam, Ethiopia, Madagascar, Jordan, Dubai and Azerbaijan. After 20 days in a hotel in Vietnam, they stayed in Addis Ababa for 4 months. The victims spent a few weeks to a few months at every other location after that, and in Malawi were made hostage after the traffickers demanded more money. They offered to take them to India for INR300,000 and for INR700,000, to fly them to Bolivia.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a95db9c7e80680e05dc31jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="693"/>“The Indian agent threatened and beat us up. Then local men came in, asked us for money, and beat us up,” one of the victims told police.The traffickers had taken their passports and other identification, and threatened to extract their kidneys and sell them if they did not pay more. Though they did not reveal the amount they had spent, police estimate that it could be more than Rs 1.5 million each. Those rescued were devastated to learn they had not reached Bolivia after spending so much money.After continuous harassment and beatings by traffickers, the Nepalis contacted their families, who informed police, triggering the rescue operation. Trafficking Bureau DSP Narahari Regmi became acquainted with a Malawi police officer when he was in the country on a UN peacekeeping mission, and used this informal channel to coordinate with police. Three Nepali women who had been taken to dance bars in Malawi were also rescued a few months ago.According to the bureau, there may be more than 100 Nepalis stranded in countries around the world, after being trafficked. Six Nepalis stranded in Indonesia for nearly six months were returned home this week.They told police that they paid Rs2.8-3 million each to traffickers. The police are in the process of rescuing eight others from Ethiopia, who have been there for seven months. Some of them still hope to make it to the US, while others are looking for ways to return to Nepal.Traffickers’ routesThe route to the US through India, Russia or Spain, Brazil, Bolivia, Peru, Colombia, Ecuador, Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala or Mexico used to be popular with traffickers. They would try to lengthen the journey so that they could extort more money from victims.Now, other routes through the Latin American countries of Suriname, Guyana or Colombia are more frequently used. Bolivia is popular because it offers visa on arrival for Nepalis. From there, traffickers try to sneak people into Mexico. In fact, Interpol and US security have now placed Bolivia’s  immigration department on their watchlist.Janakraj Sapkota in Kantipur,13 November

US-bound Nepalis trafficked to Malawi

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131156/636a52889c7e80680e0522ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="938"/><figcaption>Pic: Kantipur</figcaption></figure>Hom Karki in Kantipur, 29 JulyThe Nepal Government banned labour permits aiming to block women from going abroad as domestic workers without actually meeting any women in that role. Though members of the International Relations and Labour Committee of Parliament visited Gulf countries, they only met some of the women at Nepal's embassies.The government stopped issuing work permits for domestic workers on the committee’s recommendation, which impacted hundreds of thousands of men and women already working as domestic help in the Gulf.About 139,000 domestic workers abroad have not returned to Nepal in the past 2.5 years, because they are afraid of losing their livelihoods. Those who have returned have not been able to go back because of the ban. They have asked the committee to revise the decision. The National Human Rights Commission has also said the decision is not fair.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30809&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Heat is killing us</a>, Sonia AwaleThe seven-member parliamentary committee, led by Prabhu Sah, visited Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar and UAE in March 2017. On 2 April, it directed the government to ban domestic workers going to Gulf countries. Ashok Kumar Mandal, Premkishor Shah Teli, Binod Shrestha, Radhadevi Timilsina, Rajya Lakshmi Shrestha and Lalit Kumar Shrestha were the other members of the Committee. They reached Saudi Arabia on 18 March, and met 24 women migrant workers who had taken refuge at the embassy in Riyadh after being taken there from Kuwait.The committee met Saudi Arabia’s Labour Minister Ali Bin Naseer Ghafis, and held discussions with the Nepali community in Riyadh and Dammam. According to the report, the discussions were attended by Nepali businesspersons in Saudi Arabia and agents of recruitment companies.Nepalis working as farm hands, cooks and drivers — classified as domestic workers — were not invited to the discussions. “I have been working in Saudi Arabian farms for the past 15 years. I earn 1,500 riyal (almost Rs15,000) a month,” Umesh Raya from Rautahat says. “Everything is going good for me, except that if I go back home on holidays, I cannot come back here. What did the parliamentarians see when they were here? Who did they meet and how did they come to that decision?”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30810&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Labour pains</a>, EditorialThe committee went to Kuwait after four days, and did not meet any domestic workers there, either. The government issued 19,564 permits for domestic workers in Kuwait, while the committee met 25 women who were about to be deported back to Nepal.“I have been working as a security guard for the past eight years. On paper, that counts as a domestic worker, too. We are not able to leave this job and go back home,” says Ramesh Gurung of Nawalparasi. “The committee made its decision based on the accounts of people abused and mistreated who it met at the embassy. It assumed that everyone in Kuwait is going through the same plight, and this has created hassles for us.”The committee members then headed to Qatar, where they visited the Qatar Maid Service, a company run by a Nepali that employs mostly Nepali women workers. There, the women told the committee that they were paid less than Filipinas who did the same work.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30845&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dignity in life and Death</a>, Sonia AwaleMore men than women work as domestic help in Qatar, most of them in camel racing. But the committee did not meet any Nepalis working with camels. “It’s a little difficult to work in camel races,” says Umesh Karki, who has been working in the Sahaniya region for the past 17 years. “My boss is good. I earn Rs40,000 every month, and my food is paid for. But why was the labour permit banned? My wife and children keep calling me back home. But I cannot leave everything behind and go home.”In UAE, the parliamentarians were told that Nepali workers had started coming to the country through legal channels, and the committee was advised to let this continue. There are 130 legal domestic workers in UAE, and they face no problems since the laws there are designed to protect the rights of home workers.There is one Nepali couple who both work for an Emirati employer. “I drive for my boss while my wife is a domestic worker,” says Raju Bhattarai of Gulmi. “We have not been able to return home.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30850&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">His last journey home to Nepal</a>, Shankar Dahal

Migrants abroad left in lurch

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

A new architecture for Nepal's tourism

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

“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”

He had just sat down for lunch after tending the garden at his house in Lagan Tole on 25 April 2015 when the ground began to shake violently. &nbsp; Gautam Nepal, 56 at the time, realised it was an earthquake. He panicked at the thought of his neighbours' multi-storied buildings toppling on top of his modest one-storey house. He rushed out as the high-rises swayed and groaned. “We were used to earthquakes, moderate ones are a regular occurrence in Kathmandu, but I had never felt fear like I felt on that day,” recalls Gautam. “My house proved strong, it did not collapse.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_82a74881218223df70e30eb1759cd3a7c9edbb7728acef83c3f8b397d6e6dfe9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250419040440_82a74881218223df70e30eb1759cd3a7c9edbb7728acef83c3f8b397d6e6dfe9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1737" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>LAGAN TOLE'S TOLL: Lagan Tole photographed by tour guide Neil S Rawlins during his travel to Kathmandu in February 1970.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040448_90914720a75b7d31a12bc27f0c0af9484a5e5efc7dd797dc6bcd190fc28ecdcb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250419040448_90914720a75b7d31a12bc27f0c0af9484a5e5efc7dd797dc6bcd190fc28ecdcb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan Tole photographed by Neils Gutschow in 1992.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_9a4dd35b070949949bfe275eff8216dd29f88f74a30b063dc614845226f68f03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250419040440_9a4dd35b070949949bfe275eff8216dd29f88f74a30b063dc614845226f68f03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan Tole in 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Other residents of Lagan who also live in traditional low rise houses had the same fear. Tara Nepali, then 48, was doing the washing that Saturday.&nbsp; She recalls, “When my house began to shake, I could only think about the bigger buildings falling on top of me. I was sure my house would collapse, but to my surprise, it survived, and so did we.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_2b4b1ec427d9aec5980021b97b25ca3164d5f79337f113ba02b1d802f71b7cad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250419040440_2b4b1ec427d9aec5980021b97b25ca3164d5f79337f113ba02b1d802f71b7cad" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Gautam Nepali in front of his one-storey Lagan home, where he had been having lunch just before the earthquake struck 10 years ago.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040436_6f8a7057bbd269214712076e13117b665165e03a0351db0e3666aee05e91f63c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250419040436_6f8a7057bbd269214712076e13117b665165e03a0351db0e3666aee05e91f63c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Tara Nepali in front of her house in Lagan. She was doing the washing during the earthquake in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  But Buddha Khadgi, 68, was not so lucky. His was one of the few houses in the neighbourhood to be reduced to rubble. His lifelong collection of photographic prints were buried, and so were the traditional Newari musical instruments passed down through generations of his family that he used to give music lessons.&nbsp; “I lost the things that connected me to my roots and my heritage. That was infinitely more heartbreaking than the fact that my house was gone,” says Khadgi, now living in a new cement structure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040436_58f4a8ee4eb740536c69096a4d8c0cd2007fdbcc4ef56551ff460d2ef0ef6f2b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250419040436_58f4a8ee4eb740536c69096a4d8c0cd2007fdbcc4ef56551ff460d2ef0ef6f2b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2496" height="1671" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan's Maka Galli some decades ago. Photo: SHREE RAM NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_6b2bacaf0a1e93b441aff8093b343836d6de0b44d7b29f9b758209845f675bff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250419040440_6b2bacaf0a1e93b441aff8093b343836d6de0b44d7b29f9b758209845f675bff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan's Maka Galli in 2025. The neighbourhood's old Newari houses have been replaced by concrete structures, although the falcha has been rebuilt in traditional style.</figcaption> </figure>  Lagan Tole in Kathmandu's historic heart emerged relatively unscathed from the earthquake in large part because, like in nearby Asan, the buildings are densely packed and lean on each other. But in the years after the earthquake, urban pressure and fear of future quakes have made families tear down their traditional houses with sloping tile roofs and replace them with concrete structures.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_25983e79dc88388cb370b16f7f631e4c276cfc997ffa1f9ce3701e40c876b355.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250419040440_25983e79dc88388cb370b16f7f631e4c276cfc997ffa1f9ce3701e40c876b355" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Glimpses of present-day Lagan.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_9a6a88df8815352a452895c43840a898d4b6c080b79562383306c0cfe8bcd952.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250419040440_9a6a88df8815352a452895c43840a898d4b6c080b79562383306c0cfe8bcd952" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_a348b974bd3a5e76d0bf9b309f98813556d43dd6c361856c67e79c03d4283e69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250419040440_a348b974bd3a5e76d0bf9b309f98813556d43dd6c361856c67e79c03d4283e69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> </figure>  Lagan’s longtime residents, especially the elderly whose families have lived here for generations, say that the neighbourhood with its characterless new tall cement boxes is no longer familiar to them. “We used to say that our houses are not supposed to be taller than temples, the houses of our gods,” says Gautam. “Now, the houses here dwarf the temples and even the chariot of Seto Machindranath.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_88d18ce580abaf9e62fd807403f2e3c9a5bd8972d3b32bdacb97d8991c7fec35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250419040440_88d18ce580abaf9e62fd807403f2e3c9a5bd8972d3b32bdacb97d8991c7fec35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1041" height="1441" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>The Seto Machindranath procession at Lagan on 10 April 1998, during which the chariot caught fire. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_c403f91f9a48c14eaaeed2d38a2cb97714416765730b6d12f29487f9b0f47e83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250419040440_c403f91f9a48c14eaaeed2d38a2cb97714416765730b6d12f29487f9b0f47e83" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>The Seto Machindranath procession at Lagan earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;The old baha courtyards, falcha resting places, and open spaces where Lagan’s residents used to grow vegetables and gather as a community are nearly all gone. And the taller the houses get, residents say they feel less anchored to the soil. Lagan has also lost its soul -- the community spirit is eroding as elderly neighbours rarely venture down to meet each other in the evenings. &nbsp; “This no longer feels like the tole I grew up in,” says a resident. “We are beginning to lose the relationships we had with each other as a community, and with it, the spirit of Lagan.”&nbsp;

Loss of soul and soil

Dealer Cimex has extended warranties on BYD EVs sold in Nepal for 10yrs/200,000km, up from 8yrs/160,000km. Lights, tyre pressure monitors, suspension and ball joints now have 5yr/125,000km warranties, and all other parts now have 7.5yr/187,500km warranties.&nbsp;

migrant-worker