The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

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Mass migration from Muktikot

Four months ago, videos of Nepal’s rich, famous, and well-connected spread like wildfire on digital platforms. They were flaunting their lavish lifestyles while many Nepalis could not make enough to get by.&nbsp; This display of nepotistic privilege resonated in particular among the millions of Nepalis who are toiling overseas, or will soon have to migrate to provide for their families. What started out as a protest against #NepoKids and corruption snowballed into violence that brought down the government. The youth envisioned a future where they would not be compelled to leave a country where rulers offer nothing to them.&nbsp; Ironically, the arson and vandalism of international hotel brands, corporate houses and businessmen has dampened the investment climate which is driving more Nepalis abroad. The Labour Ministry has announced plans to make it easier for those affected by the protests to obtain overseas working permits. Even those who wanted to stay in Nepal might now find it easier and more prudent to leave. Over 200,000 Nepalis have obtained labour permits in the four months since the September unrest. Since 2011, 7.6 million Nepalis have officially gone to work overseas, according to the 2024 Nepal Labour Migration Report released by the Ministry of Labour, Employment and Social Security last month. Of them, 2.8 million have renewed their permits. The report highlights labour migration trends, governance, policies, and data for the fiscal years 2022/23 and 2023/24, and although a bit outdated, the figures give an idea of the scale and spread of Nepal’s migrant workers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260108110136_4322a0fcff688dc506bef0e38fec7ae40dc9a2e73ed3e72ee671879c8d756868.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260108110136_4322a0fcff688dc506bef0e38fec7ae40dc9a2e73ed3e72ee671879c8d756868" data-rendition-name="original" width="1118" height="614" loading="lazy" alt="migration report"> </figure>  Some highlights: 954, 319 new labour approvals were issued in 2022/23 and 2023/24, 113,056 of which were obtained by women. Half of the total migrant workforce were between the ages of 25-34.&nbsp; Kosi and Madhes Provinces account for the highest share of labour approvals, while Karnali and Sudurpaschim have the lowest. Most of the migrant workers going to India were from those two far-western provinces. The report categorises migration by year, district, province, age, and sex. But it would have done well to disaggregate socio-economic status, caste and ethnicity, and geographical data.&nbsp; The report also highlights strides made towards ensuring better and fairer migration. Since 2023, labour permits are valid for the duration of the contract signed between workers and employers, as opposed to a fixed term of two years previously. Steps have been taken to ensure 'employers pay' with some destinations so that workers do not have to pay exorbitant recruitment fees. Nepal’s diplomatic missions have been mobilised to issue labour permits and better protection to undocumented workers. There have been efforts to provide better legal protection and compensation rights to overseas workers. Bilateral labour agreements have been signed with countries that offer relatively higher wages, and agreements have been proposed with 13 countries to extend opportunities to migrants in more eastern European countries, SAARC countries like the Maldives and higher-income nations like Austria and Luxembourg.&nbsp; In 2022, the Social Security Fund was extended to include Nepali migrant workers abroad. And while the report also includes Nepal's existing G2G agreements, the effectiveness of those deals also need to be discussed. Nepal' G2G partnership with the UK to send Nepali nurses to work there at zero cost, was expected to recruit 100 nurses, but only 41 nurses have obtained labour permits.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Nepal continues to maintain a G2G partnership with Israel, which is committing a genocide in Gaza, and where the security of Nepalis is at risk. Last year, 2,200 Nepalis went to work in Israel as caregivers — 60% of whom are women. &nbsp; Destination countries have also introduced new migration policies unfriendly to nations like Nepal. Late last year, Malaysia’s announcement of new criteria for selecting private recruiting agencies for migrant workers from countries including Nepal. And the nationwide jailbreak in September has not helped Nepal's case either. The UAE stopped issuing visas to Nepali workers for almost two months before allowing it recently, pending attested police reports. Even so, Nepal recorded remittance inflows of $4.88 billion in the first four months of this fiscal year. Nearly 28% of Nepal GDP equivalent comes from remittances, one of the highest proportion in the world that shows low level of domestic economic activity. Nepal’s leadership will have to reconcile with the fact that depending on remittance to hold up the economy is foolish. Even as Nepal tries to sign labour agreements, higher income nations are becoming less and less tolerant of migrants — even as they face labour shortages and invade developing nations at will.&nbsp; At the beginning of the report, Krishna Hari Pushkar, Secretary of the Labour Ministry, writes, ‘Our shared goal should be to ensure that migration is always a choice, not a necessity.’ But for Nepal and Nepalis, migration will be a compulsion for the foreseeable future.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260108110144_843ed024465b5cedc28b86331d7509973b2a6dd646349fd5d542074422e837e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260108110144_843ed024465b5cedc28b86331d7509973b2a6dd646349fd5d542074422e837e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="migration report"> </figure>

Still a compulsion, not a choice

This is the 78th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. Pawan Dev Majhi&nbsp; (Son, Mahottari) Growing up, my grandfather and father inspired me to study well by offering incentives of Rs5-10 every Saturday. This worked well, even though I failed to earn a reward every week.&nbsp; This was an especially big deal in my Musahar community where education is not a priority. First come basic necessities like food, roof and clothes. Only after this, can we think about education. As my brother and I grew up, my father in 2009 decided to migrate overseas for work to support our family, and our educational expenses. I come from a community in which passing Grade 10 is a big deal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026010514018_7443d7d8181ec8cb4504fdfa70f6f740f852079f95f1f4d66c1976a37bd4da0b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026010514018_7443d7d8181ec8cb4504fdfa70f6f740f852079f95f1f4d66c1976a37bd4da0b" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>  During the Covid-19 lockdown I relied on YouTube videos on my uncle’s phone to prepare for my high school exams. My father was back from Qatar during the lockdown. After I passed Grade 8, my father had bought me a bicycle, but there was no reward for passing Grade 10. We were struggling to survive day-to-day. My father and grandfather wanted me to be a doctor. For them, this meant completing the Health Assistant course. But to be a doctor, I learnt only in grade 10 that I had do an MBBS. My teachers and friends encouraged me. But everything eventually comes down to money. I could not even go to Kathmandu for my further studies because of high expenses.&nbsp; My school had added a +2 course so I was in the first cohort in the science faculty. After my Grade 12 exam, we could not afford coaching classes for the medical school entrance exams that everyone else was taking. I thought I was capable of making it on my own.&nbsp; My results were not good enough for a scholarship. Paying was never an option. I tried again, and appeared for five entrance exams including MBBS, dentistry and public health. Again, I did not get the MBBS scholarship but passed four other exams with scholarships.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026010514018_683df527cd47758b3f8ada16756bc05ce69278c0e9ae6f9c1929ab771ddd10a5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026010514018_683df527cd47758b3f8ada16756bc05ce69278c0e9ae6f9c1929ab771ddd10a5" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>  My family urged me to choose dentistry, and I boarded a bus to Kathmandu to enroll. During that journey, I changed my mind to take up entrance preparation for medical school in Kathmandu despite the expenses.&nbsp; My success with the other four exams without any guidance had also boosted my confidence. I thought guidance through coaching classes would help me secure a scholarship for my MBBS as well. My parents supported the decision although they had legitimate fears: I was wasting one more year and what if I did not even get the MBBS OR dentistry scholarship the following year? I came to Kathmandu with Rs50,000 which lasted two months. I tried to find work. I was ready to do anything from dishwashing to tutoring, but failed. Guiltily, I asked my father for help again, and he came through as always by borrowing money. Studying in a preparation institute helped a lot. There were many of us and we had to take mock exams every week. When I was studying alone, I used to be overconfident. Back home, there were too many distractions, with farm work and household chores.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026010514018_529c9a7d44c10df68f53db48a7e184683c81de3cabcabebe11bacd90a438f93f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026010514018_529c9a7d44c10df68f53db48a7e184683c81de3cabcabebe11bacd90a438f93f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>  In Kathmandu, there was no pressure of this sort. But the loans pushed me to make the most of my time there. I studied till 2AM. All this paid off, and I passed. I did not tell everyone immediately because there was still uncertainty around whether I would get a scholarship or not. Finally, when my name came out on the scholarship list, I could not be happier. We had to deposit money for admission at BPKIHS in Dharan, and we did not have enough to pay that amount.&nbsp; Folks back in the village started a Rs100,000 donation campaign on social media. With that money, I enrolled at BPKHIS. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260105140112_79d782f88860cc172650bac604b61d28d15ccde87737426b1ccc26db836fe7c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260105140112_79d782f88860cc172650bac604b61d28d15ccde87737426b1ccc26db836fe7c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="942" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>  The scholarship only covers tuition costs, there are still living expenses. People have been contributing whatever they can: some sent Rs40, others Rs30,000. I do not know who these people are since online banking does not disclose names of contributors. I am extremely grateful for the support, and it has added a greater sense of responsibility. If we had to take loans, it would have been pressure to pay one person. Now I feel the need to repay everyone who contributed. It helped that I enjoyed school. There was still a lot of work in the fields, but I managed to study for a few hours everyday after coming home. If my father had not migrated I would have dropped out at Grade 8, and there would be pressure on me to also migrate for work. We used to live in a mud house, now it is a sturdier building that is still under construction. My father could not complete the house because his savings went to pay for my education. We will now complete the house. Our father has already done his share of work. He is now 55 and his health is not what it once was. He went to Qatar again after we took more loans for my studies in Kathmandu. He will come home soon. I had dissuaded him from re-migrating last year, but he insisted saying everyone has to do their duty. Indeed, my duty is also to study.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260105140124_529c9a7d44c10df68f53db48a7e184683c81de3cabcabebe11bacd90a438f93f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260105140124_529c9a7d44c10df68f53db48a7e184683c81de3cabcabebe11bacd90a438f93f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>  “I have done my duty” Shiv Narayan Majhi&nbsp; (Father, Qatar) Things are lighter for me after my son passed his MBBS entrance exam with scholarship. I was thrilled to receive his call with this wonderful news.&nbsp; My friends here are also very happy for me. I have told them that I will buy them sweets once I receive my salary this month. People like me who work hard overseas can understand the happiness I feel as a parent. My son was always bright, and that gave me the determination to work harder. Even when he chose to wait another year for an MBBS scholarship and let go of four scholarships, we supported him. My wife farms back home and I earn money overseas for other expenses.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026010514018_b91558554834966e42af06e5dea9442cae9c84c73af8935d2abfb4e0ff6bbbc7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2026010514018_b91558554834966e42af06e5dea9442cae9c84c73af8935d2abfb4e0ff6bbbc7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>  I have invested some of my earnings in land and house, but mostly it has gone for the education of my children. The scholarship reflects our sweat and blood, and he has achieved what even the richest people cannot get easily. When I first came to Qatar 17 years ago, people did not migrate from my village. I had a relative overseas who connected me to a job in Qatar. As a labourer, I was determined to make sure my son had it better and education was the only way out. I never got a chance to study growing up, but I knew the value of school because some educated people from our village had got good jobs as accountants and teachers. Because I had no education, I had to work on other people’s land and we got 3-4 kg of paddy for a whole day’s work. Even here in Qatar, it is physically demanding work in the heat. Those with education are supervisors, timekeepers and engineers who order us around. The trust in my son's capabilities made me work hard and invest in his studies. And that is what I am doing even at age 55. I am still repaying his loans. Now my son tells me to come back. I feel I have done my duty. To support Pawan with his MBBS education, please contribute to Pawan Dev Majhi (Account No. 0960100000794045, Citizens Samrakshit Bachat Khata) or use the QR code.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260105130156_7991539b09db24774e6a47e8e019b82f3b5ca47b9f4f2bfd200baed8e5fb5db5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260105130156_7991539b09db24774e6a47e8e019b82f3b5ca47b9f4f2bfd200baed8e5fb5db5" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1612" loading="lazy" alt="DD 78"> </figure>

Father’s migration, son’s education

The very first frame in The Lama’s Son starts with a vision of Shangrila and the quest of a mythical utopia in the Himalaya when the rest of the world is crumbling away. It is also the personal search of filmmaker Kesang Tseten, but what he finds there are adherents of the Bon Po faith clinging to the last remnants of a culture as it erodes away like the sandstone cliffs of Mustang. “It was while editing the documentary that the story became distilled: how does what we see in the high Himalaya relate to the notion of the Shangrila idyll that especially the West ascribed to them,” asked Tseten during a recent trip to Kathmandu from Berne where he now lives. He continued: “Often and perhaps rightly criticised as an orientalist construct, I wondered if there was any basis at all to the Shangrila notion, and I hung the film on that idea.”&nbsp; Tseten takes us to the vast vistas of Mustang and Dolpo, a landscape of his Tibetan ancestors. This is as much an intimate documentation of families on Nepal’s Himalayan rimland torn between remoteness and globalness as it is about Tseten’s own quest for rootedness.&nbsp; We start from Lubra, a 3,000m village in Mustang the 15 households of which follow the Bon faith. Lama Tsultrim is from a 900-year-old lineage of the animist faith and an exponent of the tradition that is slowly being subsumed first by Buddhism and now modernism. For Tseten, the material is familiar, and not at all exotic as it is for non-Nepalis and indeed for many urban Nepalis. Bon, founded in Tibet, predates Buddhism, but over time, the two religions have come to resemble each other.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_ecf8148fbaa17b93c81ddfa3ed244bed266e3ef6af0cd5e6ca7b64c181b97d45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113111156_ecf8148fbaa17b93c81ddfa3ed244bed266e3ef6af0cd5e6ca7b64c181b97d45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  ‘Both believe in karma, rebirth, and that humans can become enlightened. Nature and spirits are predominant in Bon, and rituals are what keep them benign and alight,’ says Tseten, who rarely narrates in his documentaries. “This is not really a personal film as such, but it has a point of view,” Tseten said. “I decided to have a voice-over on this one and cast my presence in the film.”&nbsp; Lubra's Lama Tsultrim is called upon to perform rituals from Kagbeni and other villages, but there is no one to continue the tradition after him, which is passed from father to son. Lama Tsultrim’s son (hence the title of the film) is a sushi chef in New York and has been gone for 20 years. “The Lama is like a setting sun, his son should come back and take over his father’s responsibilities,” says a local youngster chatting with friends. “If he dies tomorrow, where do we go? We can’t just light butter lamps ourselves to the gods.” It is not only the Lama’s son who has left. The village is nearly empty, and more are planning to leave. One of them is Chimi, a teacher who will be joining her fiancé who is an Uber driver in New York. Her brother is already in Hong Kong. In Lo Manthang a local is back home for a three-month vacation after being in New York for 12 years. A shopkeeper was in Japan for several years, and has returned. “Everything has changed, our language, our tsampa, our religion. We used to work and live together, now the children live separately,” says a middle-aged woman. “There are roads now, and vehicles stop right outside our house, but what’s the point? No one stays home.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_47b4c4984fa33e42791b16dba1f078aaa7f9d8bd51ca3bfd5415b436c3a0bf2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113111156_47b4c4984fa33e42791b16dba1f078aaa7f9d8bd51ca3bfd5415b436c3a0bf2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  Like most of Tseten’s films, The Lama’s Son is an honest documentation of a place and people whose lifestyle, culture and heritage cling precariously to the past. In Dri village we come across local women filling their buckets with water. Tseten asks them why the village is so empty: “Where is everyone?” The women reply that they are “here, there and everywhere”. Then it is their turn to ask Tseten about where he lives and what he is doing in their village. Migration is a recurring theme in Tseten’s documentaries from We Corner People, In Search of the Riyal, or Saving Dolma. His previous film Diversity Plaza documented the lives of Nepali and Tibetan emigrants in Jackson Heights in the borough of Queens in New York.&nbsp; Diversity Plaza was shown at DOC NYC in 2023, and The Lama’s Son will be one of only two Asian films shown next week at one of the biggest documentary film festivals in the world.&nbsp; “The Lama’s Son is not loud, not attention grabbing but intimate, so I was surprised they chose a quiet film for a big, flashy event,” Tseten told us. In Lama’s Son, we also see how climate breakdown is impacting Nepal’s trans-Himalayan regions. Lama Tsultrim shows us the aftermath of a recent glacial flood that swept away houses and fields. The debris-covered farms are as hard as cement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_c82126a3c2dc4577b99beb9bef20aafa16f532a3f41e59caea17c93914c59fff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251113111156_c82126a3c2dc4577b99beb9bef20aafa16f532a3f41e59caea17c93914c59fff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  The nearby village of Dhey at 3,900m is a high and dry cold desert. Farmers get one crop in a year, but the springs have gone dry and there is no snow in winter. So they are relocating to New Dhey, closer to the road. We follow Kesang Tseten to Samling in Dolpo, which at 4,200m is another Bon village. Locals are preparing for the Walchu festival in which Lama Sherrab carries out elaborate rituals to appease spirits that can turn malevolent. But unlike Lama Tsultrim in Lubra, Lama Sherrab has a community of lamas to help him, including two sons, one of whom will eventually take on his role. We move on to the adjacent village of Bicher and listen in as locals talk about how despite being dirt poor, they thrive in scarcity and are resilient. “We wear sheepskin, eat stew and yak meat, and drink wine. But we are very poor, we have nothing. Look at how dirty our clothes are. We may be dirty, but we have few illnesses,” says one. But even here in Upper Dolpo, a week’s walk from the nearest road, things are changing. There are mobile phones, readymade clothes and instant noodles.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111156_d1472165cfa9ffa6edbf72de59167e8cbddcc2bf4a7928f7830e099966259a78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251113111156_d1472165cfa9ffa6edbf72de59167e8cbddcc2bf4a7928f7830e099966259a78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="The periphery cannot hold NT"> </figure>  At the Walchu ritual, Tseten watches men and women with hand-woven blankets and down jackets sing and dance after the main ceremony. He narrates: “Bon is sustained by a way of life that fosters a fine but fragile balance between nature and people, where humans come before gods. This is what lies at the heart of Shangrila if there is such a thing.” The film then takes us half-way around the world to a Bon centre in New York, but (spoiler alert) the eponymous Lama’s son never appears. He did not want to be filmed, but it makes for a more powerful portrayal of the life of emigrants forever trapped between two worlds. “Bon villages may be in danger, but the Bon has spread widely across the world,” narrates Tseten, a director who likes to call his storytelling ethnographic, and avoids coming to an apt conclusion. Lama Sherrab’s words after the Walchu ritual is a perfect segue:&nbsp; “Whether you say om mani padme hum (in Buddhism) or matri mi yu (in Bon) they are the same. When you go up, it’s the same heavenly realm. If you go down, it’s still the lord of death who awaits. There isn’t a separate heaven and hell for Buddhists and Bon, it has to be the same for both.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025111312110_82817ef48840bb6baa1732d5b0b90c90ead2f9bd9eb0c289940fa61d8058de8d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025111312110_82817ef48840bb6baa1732d5b0b90c90ead2f9bd9eb0c289940fa61d8058de8d" data-rendition-name="original" width="7087" height="10004" loading="lazy" alt="The Lama's Son NT"> </figure>  The Lama’s Son by Kesang Tseten, 2025 Shunyata Films To be screened at DOC NYC 16 November at 2:05PM local time, Online: 17-30 November Details <a href="https://www.docnyc.net/film/the-lamas-son/">here</a>.

Sonia Awale

The periphery cannot hold

Imagine a high-end fair trade tea brand from Nepal that has done everything right, with ethical sourcing practices and international certifications. It has built a loyal base of socially conscious, premium customers in an export market and focuses on quality over quantity. Then one day, a government in the export market introduces a new ‘listing criteria’ that requires exporting a certain amount of tea to at least three countries in the past five years. But this was never a numbers game, it was about a niche market of socially responsible tea lovers.&nbsp; Suddenly, fair trade tea companies are restricted from exporting tea to that country.&nbsp; Pretty unfair for the company, for consumers, for the tea sector. More importantly, for tea farmers and families benefiting from fair standards. The overseas labour industry is facing a similar risk as recruiters, including those that have adopted ethical standards, may soon be barred from finding workers for Malaysia.&nbsp; On 27 October, the Malaysian Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent letters to five countries including Nepal, Bangladesh, Burma, Pakistan and India to ‘rationalise the number of licensed private recruitment agencies permitted to facilitate recruitment and placement of workers to Malaysia’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141040_050274dddc6cf10224b0ad9283eec7b3bc3c0acd650543a808a8ea473ecf40db.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251030141040_050274dddc6cf10224b0ad9283eec7b3bc3c0acd650543a808a8ea473ecf40db" data-rendition-name="original" width="961" height="1135" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"> </figure>  The letter includes 10 criteria for private recruiting agencies including at least five years of operating experience, deployment of 3,000 workers in the past three years of operation, &nbsp;experience sending workers to at least three countries, a 10,000 sq m office maintained for three years, valid licenses and good conduct certificates, five employer testimonials, and operating their own training and accommodation centres. Two conditions stand out as potentially harmful to Nepal’s ethical recruitment movement. First, although the letter cites a minimum of 3,000 workers, it says three years in the heading and five in the body text. A big enough difference to affect a significant number of recruiters from making the cut, but problematic regardless.&nbsp; Second, the requirement to send workers to at least three countries disproportionately impacts responsible recruiters in Nepal and elsewhere. Turning the selection of workers into a numbers game is dehumanising. Responsible &nbsp;recruiters deprioritise volume, focus on quality of jobs even when business sustainability comes under threat as ethical opportunities that do not require workers to pay any feed and ensure greater transparency are difficult to come by. Sending workers is further impacted by a series of external shocks. For example, in the Malaysian context Nepal banned emigration to Malaysia for two years followed by the Covid pandemic, and then Malaysia’s decision to stop the intake of foreign workers for the last two years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141040_b1b88b3ae2e94c6bc077529ac6f2a4e380a385ee9a22219edfed25067c9d25a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251030141040_b1b88b3ae2e94c6bc077529ac6f2a4e380a385ee9a22219edfed25067c9d25a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="595" height="841" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141040_2cf252908d18aaf09c875002eef2d92ab45897a56b560addd2dc02311725c8a7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251030141040_2cf252908d18aaf09c875002eef2d92ab45897a56b560addd2dc02311725c8a7" data-rendition-name="original" width="590" height="238" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"> </figure>  Many ethical recruiters have focused on Malaysia because it is a more common labour market for responsible recruitment than other destinations like the Gulf. There is no credible justification to why responsible recruiters well regarded by scores of Malaysia-based multinational companies and with decades of experience should be ‘disqualified’ for not diversifying. Finding jobs for Nepalis in new markets is difficult given fierce competition, challenges &nbsp;identifying companies which follow the employer-pays principle, lack of networks and shortcomings in marketing strategies. These factors hit responsible recruiters harder because profit-motivated employers are often unwilling to cover the costs and fees associated with workers’ recruitment.&nbsp; “The volume of deployment does not determine a recruiter’s capability or the quality of services provided,” says Sujit Shrestha of the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA). Nepal recently scrapped the licensing renewal requirement that mandated sending at least 100 workers a year as it was impractical. The new Malaysian criteria is similar in nature, he added. The ball is now in Nepal’s court at a time when the interim government does not even have designated heads in the Foreign Ministry and the Ministry of Labour, Employment Employment and Social Security. When rumours about the Malaysian action started circulating, NAFEA had raised the issue, but was assured that this was not an attempt to set up a syndicate.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141044_83c8a174ef116603f747d1cd254c4d353e8b855a41fb99feec54e701f5fc4c3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251030141044_83c8a174ef116603f747d1cd254c4d353e8b855a41fb99feec54e701f5fc4c3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="3456" height="5184" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"> </figure>  How will governments and recruiters in other origin countries now respond? There is precedence from Bangladesh. Dhaka-based journalist at the Daily Star, Porimol Palma who says, “Earlier, the Malaysian authorities had selected 101 Bangladeshi recruiters unilaterally, despite Bangladesh’s call for a syndicate-free recruitment mechanism.” Between 2022-2024, 450,000 Bangladeshis were recruited under this system with workers paying between $4,500 and $6,000, even though the legal limit was $750. Palma attributes part of the high fees workers had to pay were for commissions or bribes to recruitment syndicates. Adrian Pereira heads the North South Initiative in Malaysia says: “The criteria seems a bit fishy, as they do not appear to address the actual problems in the the recruitment of foreign workers. Some of the criteria seem to encourage a system of monopoly or syndicate rather than a rights-based approach. Every government has the right to set criteria for recruiters, but conventions and ILO (International Labour Organization) standards on recruitment exist. It looks like we’re back to square one.”&nbsp; Whether migrant origin countries including Bangladesh and Nepal accept the terms sent without reservations or push back in good faith remains to be seen. In an ideal world, a collective stance should put workers’ needs and welfare at the centre. How rational is the proposed ‘rationalising strategy’? What aspects of it are promising to curb recruitment abuse and what merits serious reconsideration?&nbsp; Even if the move from the Malaysian side is well-intentioned to address rampant malpractices migrant workers face, Nepal should deliberate on the conditions set, the collateral damage especially on the responsible actors and small but capable recruiters. Alternate options that might serve everyone better before rushing to respond with a chosen list by 15 November. If the proposal is accepted, how would it be done in a transparent and accountable way? It is noteworthy that Indonesia was not listed even though it has the most workers in Malaysia among the 16 countries that send migrants to Malaysia.&nbsp; The Responsible Business Alliance (RBA), the ILO, the International Organization for Migration (IOM), and certification programs like On the Level (OTL) also need to use their leverage to ensure that recruiters, including those they have trained or certified on ethical recruitment principles, are not penalised.&nbsp; This is more than just about protecting the ethical recruitment movement, but raising even more basic questions: Who can legally be a recruiter in Nepal? There are already obligations like hefty security deposit and minimum office requirements. But requirements to have building facilities with ‘accommodations’ or ‘testing centres’ are not among them. There are 1,150 plus players in Nepal’s recruitment sector, with a few hundred engaged in the Malaysian market. A unilateral selection criteria could risk foul play, or lead to unintended, unfavourable consequences. To be sure, overseas recruitment in Nepal is known for ‘settings’, corruption, dog-eat-dog competition, and collusion. The profiteering is out of control, often at the expense of workers. But the solution does not lie in stifling the industry with criteria like deployment volume, building worker accommodations or expanding office floors.&nbsp; The focus should instead be on enforcing rules and laws in both countries that govern the industry, and the Malaysian labour agreement that has not been renewed since October 2023.&nbsp; Meddling in the industry in ways that harms fair competition and ethical actors means workers suffer. The only issue that should be taking precedence is: how will Malaysia’s 10-point criteria and planned arrangement affect migrant workers? We have seen how for identical Malaysia-based jobs, one worker might pay zero while another pays up to Rs400,000, depending on the employer and recruiter. It is unclear if the 10-point selection criteria rewards the responsible employers and recruiters.&nbsp; As a longstanding host country for Nepali migrants, Malaysia deserves credit for nurturing the small but growing ethical recruitment industry here. Export-oriented companies in Malaysia need responsible recruitment partners and have mentored recruiters to strengthen their practices and move away from worker-paid models.&nbsp; The business case for ethical recruitment standards has led many recruiters in Nepal to pivot with many now in various stages of transition from traditional to hybrid or purely ethical practices. This progress needs to be acknowledged and built upon.&nbsp; Large, well-networked recruiters with large physical assets and high volume of workers seem to be the winners of Malaysia’s 10-point criteria after two years of waiting for the Malaysian market to reopen. Responsible recruiters endure long periods of minimal or no deployments that threatens their survival. The letter now sitting on the desk of the interim government in Nepal deepens the concern: rather than just failing to recognise or reward responsible recruiters, does the international recruitment market actually punish them? Upasana Khadka heads Migration Lab, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Upasana Khadka

Who gets to recruit for Malaysia?

Today, migration is no longer about awe-inspiring journeys of Xuanzang, Marco Polo, Ibn Battuta, or James Cook. They ventured across oceans and deserts in expeditions into unknown lands without permits and sometimes even received an audience with curious royalty.
We overlook the migration of the earliest humans, those bold crossings over <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/knowing-our-mountains">mountains</a> and plains, rivers and seas, islands and continents, by people who knew no boundaries, only the pull of necessity, survival, and discovery. They exercised the most ancient human freedom: the freedom of movement.&nbsp;
Now, when we hear the word migration, our minds leap not to the journey but to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/free-visa-free-ticket-policy-in-limbo?%2F">borders, passports, patrols, visas</a>. We ask whether someone’s movement is ‘legal’ or ‘illegal’, allowed or forbidden. We debate thresholds and quotas, risks and threats. Rarely do we ask the more human question: does a person not have the right to seek safety, pursue happiness, or simply <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/behind-the-cliff">go on an adventure </a>elsewhere?
For most of human history, the idea that one needed permission to move would have been absurd. Questioning human migration was questioning human nature — it still is. For over 90% of our existence as <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=434">hunter-gatherers</a>, humans were entirely dependent on movement.
Even with the rise of agriculture and the building of cities, migration remained natural to individual and social life. Entire communities shifted with the seasons. Trade and travel routes like the Silk Road, the trans-Saharan highways were arteries of constant movement. Nomadic peoples endured. Even the settled recognised<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis"> migration as a response</a> to drought, war, or opportunity. One needed no reason, or any reason would suffice.
This right to move is older than nearly all others. It predates the right to property, the most revered right in American political mythology. The right to the ‘pursuit of happiness’, enshrined in the US Declaration of Independence (1776), presupposes freedom of movement. Before there was<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06"> freedom of speech</a>, freedom of religion, the right to vote, or the right to due process, there was the right to migrate.&nbsp;
Often, it was the only freedom you could use to protect other personal rights by going to a new place. As the most respected freedom, it was the guardian of all other rights and freedoms.
Religious traditions elevated migration into a moral duty. The Buddha’s Great Renunciation, the exiles in the Ramayana and Mahabharata, and the Anishinaabe migration were considered sacred journeys shaping both the self and the world.
But<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/india-has-arrived"> the rise of modern nation-states</a>, colonial cartographies, and rigid immigration regimes has replaced this freedom with control. The invention of passports, visa systems, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/security-or-espionage">surveillance bureaucracies</a> has shackled what was once humanity’s most basic instinct. A species that roamed the earth for millennia now finds itself trapped inside boxes, walled by citizenship papers, embassies, fences, and checkpoints.
Ironically, it was the very colonial powers that moved freely across oceans and continents in search of resources and dominion turned around to criminalise movement when it came from the margins.
When the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted, freedom of movement was included but subtly severed from the act of migration. The right to leave was affirmed, the right to enter was not. It was a masterstroke of legal illusion, a political magic trick from the Western sleeve that has since cast a spell over global consciousness. A disillusion so complete, we forgot that the right to leave was also a right to arrive.&nbsp;
They even manufactured some baseless rights like preemptive self-defence, preemptive strikes, trade liberalisation, and economic embargo, but somehow framed the right to migrate as too unrealistic, too disruptive, too dangerous to recognise.
Denying the right to free movement has never been merely a matter of security or order, it reflects much deeper structural concerns. Facilitating and even coercing the flow of capital and resources from the Global South while restricting the movement of people ensures that global inequality remains entrenched, locking entire populations into structural disadvantage.
Today, we speak of migration as a problem. A disruption to be managed. We no longer greet migrants with wonder. We do not ask about their journeys, their struggles, their dreams. We fear them.
Our attention has shifted from people to policies, from humanity to geography. People are trapped in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/world-wars">war zones</a>, failing economies, and ecological disasters, not because they cannot escape, but because they are not allowed to. The powerful still glide across borders with ease, the vulnerable are held hostage by the coordinates of their birth.
This system has seeded hatred and xenophobia, nationalism, and exploitation. It has enabled trafficking where safe passage is denied. It has weaponised difference and built moral hierarchies out of geography.
To forget this freedom is not only to forget our past, it is to endanger our future. In boxing humanity into artificial lines, we have betrayed <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/%20identical-political-trajectories-in-Nepal-and-South-Africa,4057">the very idea of freedom</a>. We have turned a natural preservation instinct, a birthright, into a crime. We have silenced the journey. And in doing so, we have not only lost sight of our first freedom, we have lost a piece of what it means to be human.
Bashir Mobasher, PhD, teaches at the American University, New York University and the American University of Afghanistan Departments of Political Science.&nbsp;
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and is being republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2025/the-first-freedom-how-we-lost-sight-of-our-oldest-right-the-freedom-of-movement.html">the original</a> with their permission.

The first freedom

Nepali Times celebrated its 25th anniversary on 25 July, and this piqued my curiosity about how the paper covered migration in the early days. Things must have been so different back then. Or were they? If we look at restrictive emigration policies that disproportionately impact women, contributors have changed, protagonists have changed, but the message <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration" target="_blank">remains</a> more or less the same. Many aspects of what we write today about bans are no different from what was written back then, and it is timely to revisit this issue today on World Day Against Trafficking in Persons. Trafficking can only be addressed when people have access to safe and legal migration pathways, not with bans. In an article in 2000, the year this paper was born, correspondent Hemlata Rai wrote an article called ‘<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4816#.YDxjOFUzaUk" target="_blank">Misplaced Chivalry’</a> that criticised the ban on women migration. Back then, it was not a ban on just domestic work but on women migration altogether. Excerpt from the article: What the prohibition has done is make women more vulnerable to economic and sexual exploitation. Since the women now use illegal channels to reach their destinations, they remain invisible in official books and therefore unprotected by laws that ensure workers’ rights…. The government has simply not been able to put an end to this trafficking, and by its across-the-board ban on women workers going to the Gulf has only succeeded in pushing an employment channel underground. Twenty-five years later, I could just reuse this paragraph, and it would still be relevant, albeit the current ban is on domestic work that disproportionately impacts women and not all women migrants. In a 2003 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4627" target="_blank">news piece</a>, there was a hopeful government announcement that the ban on women working in Gulf countries was lifted, provided a recruiter and embassy could guarantee safe working conditions, after ‘activists criticised the restriction as discriminatory’. In 2006, Dambar Shrestha <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12746" target="_blank">noted</a> that the remaining restriction on women migrating to the Gulf for domestic work would also likely be repealed after the introduction of the Foreign Employment Act in 2007:&nbsp; ‘There was a general consensus (among Government and advocates) that the ban should be repealed, as a way to monitor overseas employment, and ensure women have legal recourse if mistreated.’ Indeed, the ban was lifted but its aftermath. Mallika Aryal’s 2009 article ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15584" target="_blank">The Invisible</a>’ and Rubeena Mahato’s ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19120#.YDxpbVUzaUl" target="_blank">Womanpower</a>’ noted that women still struggled to migrate because of the bureaucratic challenges:&nbsp; ‘Despite being legally allowed to go abroad to work, government rules make it as difficult as possible for them to do so.’ (Mallika Aryal) or because of the perception of the ban, ‘After the Foreign Employment Act 2007 was passed, the ban has officially been lifted, and there are no restrictions on women migrant workers going abroad. But the perception of a ban remains, and this has led many women to continue using illegal routes.’ By the time people become aware that bans have been lifted or get a grasp of how to navigate the post-ban recruitment system, another iteration of the ban is introduced whether it is conditional (age-specific, country-specific) or blanket bans bringing us back to square 1. See the flipflopping I attempted to trace in a 2021 article, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/history-of-female-im-mobility-in-nepal?amp=1history" target="_blank">History of Female Im-mobility in Nepal</a>. Just like the ban is a reactionary policy, this article was a reaction to a bizarre proposal to require consent from a guardian and local government for women under the age of 40 travelling to the Gulf or Africa which fortunately got quashed. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025073014074_064a69c6ac6a432d6fabb6ca38989186ca6f730e59c20c0c0f182c5e0f6d9dc0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025073014074_064a69c6ac6a432d6fabb6ca38989186ca6f730e59c20c0c0f182c5e0f6d9dc0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1005" height="672" loading="lazy" alt="migration in Nepal"> </figure>  But <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lift-the-ban-on-domestic-workers" target="_blank">bans</a> don’t work, have never worked, given irregular <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ban-the-ban" target="_blank">options</a> via open borders and visit visas, as has been extensively covered in this paper since its first year. The latest <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/history-of-female-im-mobility-in-nepal?amp=1history" target="_blank">ban</a>, imposed in 2017 after a Parliamentary committee visited the Gulf and decided it was unsafe for domestic workers, regardless of gender.&nbsp; Any promise for change such as a 2020 Parliamentary trip after which the committee instructed the government to revisit the ban considering country-specific policies and several preconditions, which were still deemed restrictive, has stalled. A proposal around lifting the ban starting with a pilot agreement with the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/ban-on-female-migrant-workers-to-be-lifted" target="_blank">UAE</a> submitted by the Labour Ministry has also stalled. One would think that 25 years is a long enough time horizon for progress that would bring us to a point where we would look back and gasp at how bans were imposed to curb migration that disproportionately impacted women.&nbsp; What on earth was the Government thinking, we could have wondered? On the contrary, this is still our reality and we are in fact in the midst of a fresh, high profile <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/revisiting-visit-visas" target="_blank">visit visa</a> scandal that has become a core public contention issue. The misuse of visit visas is inevitably linked to deployment bans and profit motives.&nbsp; These scandals cast doubt on the claim that the bans are really for ‘protection’ of women. To be sure, domestic work remains one of the most vulnerable sectors with women disproportionately affected. Excessive working hours, payment issues such as non-payment or underpayment, verbal, physical and even sexual abuse are prevalent. Countries including in the Middle East have increasingly adopted regulations protecting women but there are severe limits in both the protections they offer or their implementation. These abuses are very much present, prevalent and cannot be ignored. But Nepal has not taken the steps to proactively address these issues because the bans alone take centre focus despite their ineffectiveness. The restrictive policy has not been overhauled despite decades of progress since Hemlata Rai first reported on this subject in this paper in terms of better databases for recordkeeping, stronger international conventions, laws and standards governing this sector, better developed curricula on domestic work, stronger regulations for recruiters deploying domestic workers, social media that keeps domestic workers connected. There are developments from the last two decades that can be utilized to make the sector safer should there be a willingness to do so. Because the reality is, these opportunities are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/homes-away-from-home" target="_blank">life-changing</a> for many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/every-day-is-closer-to-pay-day" target="_blank">migrants</a> and their families. If and when we get to celebrate the lifting of the ban, it will be just that: a celebration of the ban being lifted, which is not a lot to begin with. A low bar. Because it will only clear the way to begin real work to tangibly make this sector safe.&nbsp; What is needed past the ban will be a lot of work: stronger embassies, better recordkeeping, enforceable bilateral labour agreements, monitoring, pre-departure training and awareness campaigns. Perhaps that is another reason why there is such slow progress because imposing a ban does give the semblance of doing something in the name of protection without really doing much? Twenty-five years of reporting in Nepali Times on bans on women migrant workers has one lesson: they still don’t work -- just as the paper reported back in 2000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025073014070_90a876eb706f8dca38e738c0f470f88d798d8ebe4be1893c9af5867fba3e0b24.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025073014070_90a876eb706f8dca38e738c0f470f88d798d8ebe4be1893c9af5867fba3e0b24" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="World Day against Trafficking in Persons"> </figure>  In this spirit of lazy policymaking and the lackluster progress on addressing deployment bans, here are five endings from previous articles covered in the paper on this issue. Please choose as per your liking; ‘The government has simply not been able to put an end to this trafficking, and by its across-the-board ban on women workers going to the Gulf has only succeeded in pushing an employment channel underground.’ (Hemlata Rai, 2000) ‘How can the government be so apathetic towards this problem when women make such a significant contribution to the national economy?’ (Dewan Rai, 2009) ‘Unless the government is serious about enforcing the provisions of the Foreign Employment Act and creates a safety net for migrant workers, these statistics and the lives of countless Nepali women will only get worse.’ (Sushila Budhathoki and Mina Sharma, 2012) ‘The ban needs to be lifted, but this is also an opportune moment to address other less-explicit but enduring factors that are holding women back, both literally and figuratively.’ (Upasana Khadka, 2020) ‘Undocumented domestic workers are citizens too, and it is the duty of the state not to abandon them.’ (Ayushman Bhagat and Sunita Mainali, 2025) Upasana Khadka heads <a href="https://www.migration-lab.com/">Migration Lab</a>, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Nepal’s unchanging domestic worker saga

Where will Nepal be in 2050? It is only 25 years away. The country’s population will be peaking at 36 million, the poverty rate will drop to near zero. Maternal and child mortality rates will fall further. Nepal will be generating up to 40,000MW of hydro and solar power, more than half of that for export. Upgraded highways will improve connectivity, railways will make transport cheaper. Pokhara and Birganj will only be two hours away from Kathmandu. Nijgad airport could be Nepal’s new aviation hub, reducing Kathmandu’s congestion. Nepal will hitch its wagon to the engines of economic growth in India and China. Investment and job creation will reduce outmigration, Nepal's data centres will be powered with surplus electricity. Remote areas will prosper with high-value tourists. That is if all goes well. But if Nepal’s politics remains dysfunctional with incompetent leadership, then the country will muddle along as it is doing now. Society will be more unequal, public discontent may boil over as politicians resort to faith to hide failures, the exodus abroad of youth will continue. Climate breakdown will exacerbate these crises. Global average temperature will have risen to 2.7°C above pre-industrial levels (it is 1.1°C now). The remaining Himalayan icecap will shrink by half, glacial lakes will threaten valleys. The hydrology of rivers will change, reducing dry season flow. Severe and prolonged heat waves in the Tarai will force people to migrate back to the mountains. In the final analysis, it all boils down to a political system that is more accountable, and displays more integrity and efficiency. <h2>Mission 2050</h2> · Melamchi Water Supply Project · Pokhrara International Airport · Bhairawa International Airport · Upper Tama Kosi Hydroelectric Project . Kathmandu-Tarai Expressway What do these biggest infrastructure projects in Nepal have in common? All ended up being more expensive than they should, all have been delayed and are not fully operational, two were badly damaged in climate-related disasters that should have been foreseen. The $800 million Melamchi is Nepal’s most expensive infrastructure project to date. It took 30 years to build, but was nearly destroyed by a glacial debris flow in June 2021. The headworks need major repairs. The 456MW Upper Tama Kosi was severely damaged by a rockfall and floods in last September’s floods. It is still not operating at full capacity, and other hydropower plants were damaged in recent glacial floods. Pokhara and Bhairawa airports were supposed to be the new aviation gateways to Nepal to take the pressure off Kathmandu, and become game changers for tourism and pilgrimage. Nearly three years later, both handle domestic flights. Poor and inadequate design, kickbacks on contracts, cost overruns, failure of diplomacy to get India’s nod on air routes, and lack of planning and marketing have made the airports a pair of white elephants. Some of these setbacks can be blamed on natural calamities, but mostly it is political incompetence and greed, lack of accountability and poor implementation. That is no surprise, since these are the hallmarks of doing business in Nepal, often delaying projects, adding to the cost, and even when completed they are already outdated. That is the story of the last 25 years, are the next 25 going to be any different? Not if governance does not improve. “What we really need for the future is vision, idea, and understanding, and then the domestic capacity to implement them,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya, who laments the total absence of technical and planning expertise. “None of our national highways meet technical standards, our cities are unplanned. The priority was never on quality. Politicians sold us short-term infrastructure that have now become a barrier to prosperity,” he adds. One silver lining has been private sector involvement in hydropower, and the energy strategy aims to generate 11,769MW by 2030. But hydropower is high-investment, high-risk due to climate breakdown, and ecologically damaging. “Hydropower is a good example of how government incentives and public-private partnership can work wonders, although we now have to take climate change into account,” explains economist Kalpana Khanal of the Policy Research Institute. She adds, “We now have to identify other key infrastructure areas that also enhance the growth of other sectors.” The National Planning Commission’s periodic plans guide overall social and economic strategy for the country into the coming decade. Nepal’s current five-year plan (2024-2029) has set a target of 7.3% annual economic growth against the current 3.9%, $2,351 per capita income up from $1,456 at present, and poverty reduction to 12%. The plan aims to export nearly half the hydropower generated by 2030, earning the country Rs41 billion annually. But there is no real coordination between line agencies, and bureaucratic lethargy leads to constant delays, says former member of the National Planning Commission (NPC) Min Bahadur Shahi. “Development in Nepal is still very much synonymous with building roads and bridges, and infrastructure is rudimentary,” he says. “Elsewhere in the world, digital infrastructure and governance go hand in hand, we are far behind.” The frustration of a man who served in the National Planning Commission is an indication where the problem lies: in actually executing plans and implementing strategies. “We need to prioritise projects based on our geography, climate, societal needs,” Shahi continues. “We want to push Nijgad airport when we can’t even operate Pokhara and Bhairawa. Have we even studied potential air routes and needs of international carriers?”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250726070744_0547e5a7fd4424b5de8c279cab637ee7ebd9e65f2673b15e6dbd4eb2aa2524f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250726070744_0547e5a7fd4424b5de8c279cab637ee7ebd9e65f2673b15e6dbd4eb2aa2524f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="Pokhara airport"><figcaption>NO FLY ZONE: Pokhara airport was supposed to be the new aviation gateway to Nepal but nearly three years after its inaguration, it mostly handles domestic flights. Photo: RADHIKA KANDEL </figcaption></figure>  TARGET PRACTICE Export of hydropower, manpower and lately information technology are the mainstays of Nepal’s economy, and will carry the country to its graduation from Least Developed Country status to a developing country in November 2026, and hopefully to middle-income by 2030. Nepal has an installed capacity of about 3,800MW, most of it from hydropower, and increased adoption of electric cars has reduced the import of petroleum products, decreasing the trade deficit with India. Meanwhile, Nepalis abroad sent home $11 billion in remittances last year, and at least $900 million in backend IT exports. But demographer Yogendra B Gurung is not impressed: “Despite the reduction in the poverty rate, and our improving income status, life expectancy, income, even maternal and infant mortality are not on par with countries with similar economic status.” He says relying on remittances is an unsustainable economic model, vulnerable to external factors and remittances are mostly spent on day-to-day needs, and not invested in productive sectors. Remittance is credited with reducing poverty in Nepal which is down to 20.27% from 42% in 1990. Money sent home by workers abroad has allowed families to afford basic healthcare and education, in turn helping to reduce childhood malnutrition and maternal mortality while improving female literacy. But the progress has stalled in recent years, and many doubt Nepal will meet its Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) targets. The National Planning Commission has said Nepal is likely to achieve just 60% of the targets by 2030. Sex ratio at birth, which is 112 boys to 100 girls in Nepal in particular, is worrying, as it is much higher than the biological ratio of 105 to 100. This is much more pronounced in Karnali, Sudurpaschim and Madhes Provinces which suffer from historical neglect. Despite a rise in female literacy, patriarchy is still deeply entrenched and the provinces are behind the rest of the country for gender equality, education, healthcare, nutrition and economic opportunities. “Karnali is resource-rich, especially hydropower and the recent discovery of the methane gas, but inequality is much greater,” says Shahi, who is with the Karnali Integrated Rural Development and Research Centre (KIRDARC). “Federalism in Nepal is only on paper, we need a total structural reform to devolve political power to really bring about change.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250726070744_fd4a218656e1fbf6f13f5f87a47bfe624516c6a0232481b6be77875ae866deb9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250726070744_fd4a218656e1fbf6f13f5f87a47bfe624516c6a0232481b6be77875ae866deb9" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="Butwal-Narayangadh "><figcaption>The Daunne section of the Butwal-Narayangadh road notorious for traffic jams and accidents, it has been in never-ending construction for three years. Photo: BISHNU PRASAD GAUDEL / RSS </figcaption></figure>  Despite limited resources, Nepal also suffers from wasteful investment as a result of politically (mis)guided decision-making, instead of people-centric plans and policies, says demographer Gurung. “People are overwhelmingly moving to the cities but our leaders are hell bent on building roads to every village and now there are empty schools in the mountains,” he adds. Nepal needs data-driven planning but its long-term economic vision 2020-44 seems more of a wish-list than realistic goals, including average annual GDP growth of 10.5%, $12,000 per capita income and population under the absolute poverty line at 0. Other goals include raising electricity generation capacity to 40,000MW, access to motor transport to 99%, life expectancy at birth to 80, maternal mortality down to 20% and literacy to 99% and 100% access to the internet, among others. Meanwhile, Nepal is committed to net-zero by 2045 and 100% renewable energy by 2050. “Our planners have no idea what kind of infrastructure we need 20, 30 years down the line to sustain and accelerate growth. We need a big structural change in the political leadership, in technocratic planning, and for policy implementation,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya. Meeting such targets would require large investment, and it would be unwise to rely on remittances for the longer run, especially as Nepal’s demographic dividend will diminish as it turns into an aged society by 2065. Reversing out migration requires a favourable investment climate so jobs are created. Good governance marked by accountability and transparency are the basic prerequisite for ease of doing business. But lack of rule of law and illicit funds put Nepal in the grey list of the Financial Action Task Force (FATF), the global money-laundering watchdog. “Everything comes down to a political will. The established parties must realise that if they don’t perform, they will be replaced by alternatives,” says Kalpana Khanal. “In the meantime, we must engage the youth and find ways to retain them as well as attract the diaspora to invest in Nepal.”

Nepal in 2050

Katha Ghera’s ongoing theatre production वायुपङ्खी बफेलो (Bayupankhi Buffalo, Winged Buffalo) at<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-the-men-and-women-merely-players"> Kausi Theatre</a> begins with all the buffalos at a farm are granted semi-human qualities by a magical entity called ‘The Hand’. A young buffalo in the herd, named Aai like all of his fellow bovines, takes one look at the state of things around him with his newfound cognitive abilities and immediately decides that he has no prospects in Nepal. Written and directed by Kshitiz Parajuli, वायुपङ्खी बफेलो chronicles the misadventures of Aai as he sets out to make his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-survivors-migrate-for-work">dreams of migrating for a better life </a>into reality. He is helped in his quest by his supportive father, played by Rishikesh Basyal, and the other stage buffaloes in his life. The application process can be daunting, but the play does not take itself too seriously, presenting the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/no-country-for-young-men-c89lgrrl">desperation of young Nepalis to migrate</a> through multiple comedic twists, fourth-wall breaks by the narrator, musical moments, and over-dramatised scenes. The fast pace play does not make the story feel out of place. When Aai finds himself short on money for citizenship and passport documents made, he robs a bank. When it is time to take an emigration language test, the only way Aai is able to speak English is via rap verse. When he tells his father that he does not wish to be lonely in his new life abroad, he arranges for Aai to marry a cow. The play stands out because despite its quixotic plot and arrangement, most Nepalis identify with the core theme of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-truth-about-migration">migration</a>. And so is the process Aai has to follow to get his documents, his struggles to obtain citizenship presents a pointed message about what Nepalis go through to establish their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-is-turning-into-a-nation-of-hybrid-identities">national identity</a> with the language barriers along the way.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250509140548_1907cd2d7935e66571206e737b3207b462b27b4acdde996e17a20cc20cc7dbbd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250509140548_1907cd2d7935e66571206e737b3207b462b27b4acdde996e17a20cc20cc7dbbd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1346" loading="lazy" alt="No country for bovines"> </figure>  That he resorts to crime for a chance to leave the country is reflective of people willing to let the end justify the means, evoking stories of countless Nepalis who take months-long journeys through dangerous back routes to attempt to get into countries like the US. The cast, along with the production’s costume and make-up department, deserve flowers. Nishan Khatri and Rishikesh Basyal in particular do a stellar job playing Aai and his father, imbuing their buffalo characters with humanity while maintaining their bovine body language and mannerisms. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/prosperous-farm-un-happy-animals">‘Prosperous Farm, (Un)happy Animals’</a>, Shristi Karki Just when it seems as though Aai has finally crossed all hurdles (spoilers ahead) he is caught at the airport trying to leave the country on a fake passport, and sent to prison. Upon release from jail, he returns home, seemingly having given up on his dreams to go abroad entirely, to find that his father is no longer at home. Neither Aai nor the audience is given answers as to where his father might have gone and why he left. And so Aai quietly goes back to being a buffalo, reminding us that while <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/the-migration-myth">thousands leave Nepal</a> daily in search of a better life, the dreams of just as many, if not more, never take flight. At this sombre end, the audience is left wondering about the circumstances that have led to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">young Nepalis</a> believing the grass is really greener beyond our borders. Bayupankhi Buffalo is a tragi-comic reflection of the dreams contemporary Nepali youth dare not dream here at home. Bayupankhi Buffalo Till 17 May Katha Ghera, Kausi Theatre, Teku

No country for bovines

Twenty-year-old Girendra had just completed high school when he was forced to step up to support his family. His father’s contracting business went under, and his mother lost her private sector job.&nbsp; Like many Nepalis, Girendra’s parents decided that an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better">overseas job</a> would be the best option for their son. Girendra was offered a security guard position <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-woman-s-drive-to-push-boundaries">in Dubai </a>by an acquaintance of his mother’s, but he refused the job.&nbsp; He then met a woman named Sunita in Kathmandu who identified herself as an agent for a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/recruiters-of-nepalis-into-russian-army-identified">recruiting agency</a>, and offered him a marketing job in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/burmese-of-nepali-descent-flee-to-thailand">Thailand</a> that would pay him Rs150,000 monthly.&nbsp; All he needed, Sunita told him, was typing and data entry skills, and Rs400,000 to get to Thailand. Girendra went back to his village in Udaypur to get the money, dreaming of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-worldliness-of-an-overtime-worker">earning enough to then fulfil his end goal</a> of joining the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4129">French Foreign Legion</a>.&nbsp; In September last year, Girendra arrived at Kathmandu airport to fly to Bangkok accompanied by Sunita’s brother Naresh. But both men were stopped because they did not have proper <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/life-time/having-a-nepali-passport-is-no-fun">travel documents</a>.&nbsp; Sunita then <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/corruption-deep-rooted-in-government">bribed the officials</a> who let the two through to catch their Nepal Airlines flight to Bangkok two days later.&nbsp; The pair were met at the Suvarnabhumi Airport by their contact, Marku, a heavy-set, tattooed man who held a placard bearing their names. They were put inside a black Toyota Fortuner, and driven seven hours through four security checkpoints to the city of Mae Sot on the border with Burma.&nbsp; Marku took their photos, and set them up in a hotel. Girendra and Naresh were met the next morning by a tall Chinese man who again took their photos and loaded them up at the back of a red Ford pickup. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-malaysia-nepal-migrant-scam-nexus">The Malaysia-Nepal migrant scam nexus</a>, Ramu Sapkota and S Vinothaa They drove past a sign for the Thai–Myanmar Friendship Bridge, but instead of going across, the truck took a route through the jungle to the Moei River, where their belongings were confiscated by men in motorbikes. The two were then put on a boat to cross over into Burma. &nbsp; “It was a whirlwind of activity, we barely had any time to think,” recalls Girendra. “But a chill ran down my spine when I heard the Chinese men on the boat laughing like monsters.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040340_1270bb5bddad6f9c23688f7295a7c2e6c4e09679b8bd9e008b5d40986a807490.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250321040340_1270bb5bddad6f9c23688f7295a7c2e6c4e09679b8bd9e008b5d40986a807490" data-rendition-name="original" width="548" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in ‘scam camps’ escape to tell the tale NT"> <figcaption>Screenshot of a clendestine video smuggled out last year by a rescued Nepali of a call centre in Shan state in Burma.</figcaption> </figure>  On the other side, they were loaded into another truck, which passed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/life-and-livelihood-in-remote-nepal">remote villages</a>, encountering teenagers in bulletproof vests carrying AK47s, and soldiers having lunch or smoking <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-must-legalise-cannabis">cannabis</a>. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The truck finally stopped at a big compound, where Girendra and Naresh had their passports and phones confiscated. They were made to sign a document that read ‘Human trafficking, drugs and mobile phones are prohibited.’ As grand as the compound looked from the outside, its interior was dark, marble walls crumbling. There was sound of weeping from a group of young African women huddled in a corner with bruises all over their bodies.&nbsp; Girendra’s worst fears were confirmed: they had been sold to Burma. The pair were led into a conference room where a group of men of various nationalities were at work stations. A Malaysian man on a sofa informed them bluntly that they had been sold into an online scam ring.&nbsp; “You are trapped here now,” Girendra recalls the man telling him. “After hearing this I went to the restroom and wept.”&nbsp; Soon after, the two were led to an ‘interview’ by men who tested them on their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/english-is-not-the-be-all-and-end-all">English language</a> skills, travel experience and typing speed, then given laptops. The first thing Girendra did was to find out where he was via <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/finding-your-way-in-nepal">Google Maps</a>. They had ended up in the Burmese border town of Myawaddy in Kayin State, that has been ruled for 15 years by the Karen State Border Guard Force (KGBF), one of the most powerful among the self-governing armies that separated from the Burmese military in 2024, and is now known as the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/beyond-civilian-armed-struggle-in-burma">Karen National Army</a>. Cyber scam rings began to thrive along the Burma-Thailand border in the years after its control was ceded to the ethnic army, particularly in the Kayin State. The Kokang region located in northeastern Shan State that borders <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/china-syndrome">China</a> is just as notorious for cyber scam centres.&nbsp; Chinese gangs have been recruiting youth from across the world into their scam networks. They are made to pose as women and lure men under the guise of lucrative jobs in Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia. But Burma has become fertile ground ever since its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepalis-show-solidarity-with-burma-protesters">2021 military coup</a>. &nbsp;&nbsp; A 2024 study on transnational crime in East Asia published by the United States Institute of Peace found that cyber scams in Burma are defrauding people of $64 billion annually. The UN estimates that at least 100,000 people have been trafficked and forced to work in cyber scam centres in Burma, terming it ‘modern-day slavery’. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/crossborder-cybercrime-and-punishment"> Crossborder cybercrime and punishment</a>, Sabina Devkota  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040340_692fb4e7034a14556f8221c3a1dde8210c8256e8e468607eb0a9e1a036ddecc5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20250321040340_692fb4e7034a14556f8221c3a1dde8210c8256e8e468607eb0a9e1a036ddecc5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in ‘scam camps’ escape to tell the tale NT"> <figcaption>Rescued workers in a safehouse after crossing into Thailand.</figcaption> </figure>  In Myawaddy, the two Nepalis were asked to change their names. Girendra chose 'Netra', hoping that the light would one day guide him away from the darkness of his circumstance. Naresh chose the name 'Ram'.&nbsp; There were 11 Nepalis in the compound, including two <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trafficked-nepali-woman-s-testimony">women who had also been trafficked</a>. They warned the newcomers of the extremes that their Chinese bosses would go to force them to meet extortion targets.&nbsp; Girendra soon witnessed the punishment, which included electrocution, beatings, isolation without food or water, and exposure to extreme outdoor heat.&nbsp; His routine involved him posing online everyday from 3PM to 9AM as ‘Alicia Farooq’, the persona of a wealthy 30-year-old fashion designer based in Singapore. Armed with a list of phone numbers everyday, ‘Alicia’ would gain trust and establish relationships with unsuspecting individuals, often sending intimate videos to tempt young men to engage.&nbsp; They would then be tricked into ordering goods from the scamming platform Bitubi Binance in exchange for a $30 commission deposited into the spender’s account. The final ‘killing’ entailed Alicia asking the target individual to deposit a larger amount on the platform in exchange for a bigger commission. By the time the person at the other end realised the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/makeshift/decrypting-nepal-s-ban-on-crypto">cryptocurrency </a>and binance accounts are a sham, ‘Alicia’ would have vanished with the money.&nbsp; Girendra was given the goal of collecting at least $10,000 every month. The entire scam network in Mywaddy had 20,000 people, a town unto itself. The compound had its own casinos, clubs, restaurants, bars, markets, even money exchange centres. “If you had money, you had everything except your freedom,” says Girendra. “I would see new people arrive, and was helpless to do anything but watch as they fell into the same trap that I did in front of my eyes.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kuala-lumpur">Kleptocrats of Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur</a>, Ramu Sapkota and Alya Aldajri Two months after Girendra and Naresh arrived in Burma, five fellow Nepalis were somehow rescued. Girendra secretly contacted <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preparing-for-nepal-s-returnees">the returnees</a>, who over the next two months put him in touch with a man named Bibek Rai in Nepal. In exchange for Rs150,000, Rai said he could get them out, but Girendra did not have that kind of money.&nbsp; Bibek Rai visited the Burmese Embassy in Kathmandu to appeal for the release of Nepalis trapped in Burma. Girendra then got the contact of Sanjay Pradhan, a Burmese citizen of Nepali origin, and sent him the information of the remaining Nepalis at the compound who wanted to get out.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040340_226017b54e7122b91f7c1e396284236c11ccd49a942f19454d51df22ba935350.jpg" data-media-id="editor_23" data-image-id="20250321040340_226017b54e7122b91f7c1e396284236c11ccd49a942f19454d51df22ba935350" data-rendition-name="original" width="1204" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in ‘scam camps’ escape to tell the tale NT"> </figure>  By now, Girendra had failed to meet his target extortion amount, and was subject to harsh physical punishment which hurt his neck. &nbsp; Pradhan messaged Girendra that they were working on their release from the compound, but their first round of negotiations for ransom with the KGBF to enter its jurisdiction fell through. &nbsp; Two weeks later, armed KGBF militia suddenly came to collect the Nepalis, calling them by their passport numbers.&nbsp; “I cried uncontrollably when I came out of that cage,” Girendra recalls. Over the next few days, Pakistani, Indian, and Philippine nationals were also released from the compound.&nbsp; One Nepali, who had been appointed ‘leader’ by the Chinese bosses at the compound, refused to return because it was more profitable for him to stay back. &nbsp; An NGO then took charge, paying for their return from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-village-of-nepalis-in-thailand">Burma to Thailand</a> in a convoy of 20 military vehicles. Each person was given 10,000 Thai baht ($300) for further <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/high-cost-lays-aviation-low-in-nepal">travel expenses</a>.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/burmese-of-nepali-descent-flee-to-thailand">Burmese of Nepali descent flee to Thailand</a>, Chandra Kishore The Nepalis then got in touch with the Nepal Embassy in Bangkok asking for tickets home, but Girendra says they were treated like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/i-speak-nothing-but-the-truth-your-honour">criminals</a>. “Embassy staff told us that they were not our parents,” he adds. Finally, the rescued Nepalis found other ways to pay for their flights back to Kathmandu and returned last month. <h2>Bob's Story</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040344_7597be4427b4b1b8090f0bff517b9f9c1ef0179c19148516d96d2612975ecce2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_28" data-image-id="20250321040344_7597be4427b4b1b8090f0bff517b9f9c1ef0179c19148516d96d2612975ecce2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2256" height="3700" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in ‘scam camps’ escape to tell the tale NT"> <figcaption>Samir Thapa Magar was punished by the Chinese gang for being unable to meet his extortion target.</figcaption> </figure>  In Chitwan, Bob’s family farm never recovered after being hit hard by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-covid-19-impact-worse-than-official-figures">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>. So, when he saw an ad on Telegram about a sales and marketing job opportunity in Thailand that promised zero recruitment fees and a $1,500 salary, Bob immediately messaged the Telegram account to apply for the job. He heard back from someone named Barsha that candidates would be selected through a video interview. Bob’s interviewers kept their video on mute during the meeting.&nbsp; Finally, he was called to Kathmandu, where he was asked by Barsha to pay Rs150,000 that would be returned to him once he reached Thailand.&nbsp; Bob reached Kathmandu airport on the day before the Phulpati festival last year, where he met Samir Thapa Magar, an IT student from Gorkha who had also responded to the ad in Telegram. He had been offered a job as a cleaner in Thailand. Samir paid Barsha Rs105,000 in cash and Rs25,000 in cryptocurrency.&nbsp; Bob and Samir landed at Rangoon airport three days after they left Kathmandu, and were told that they would be taken from there to Thailand.&nbsp; Their passports were taken by their employers, after which they were driven for a whole day, changing vehicles 20 times before finally reaching Myawaddy.&nbsp; “It was only there that we realised that we had been scammed,” remembers Bob.&nbsp; The two men were coerced into working as online scammers disguised as women. They would have to extort $10,000 a month, failing which they were tortured by armed militia. Samir now regrets scamming people out of up to $22,000 in a month.&nbsp; Last year, a Chinese gang was apprehended in Kathmandu working under the cover of a beauty salon named YYP Services to recruit Nepalis into ‘scam camps’ in Burma.&nbsp; In July 2023, Chinese national Liang Jun was arrested by Nepal Police after a woman who had been forced into a scamming ring in Burma since July 2022 returned to Nepal and filed a complaint at the Anti-Human Trafficking Bureau.&nbsp; The woman had been promised a monthly salary of $1,000, and had paid Rs100,000 in recruitment fees, but had been sent back to Nepal after she fell ill due to exhaustion while working in a scam network in Burma.&nbsp; The Kathmandu District Court sentenced Liang to two years in prison, the minimum punishment for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/human-trafficking-patterns-changing-in-south-asia">human trafficking</a>. Since then, some other Nepalis who have returned from scam rings in Burma have filed complaints with the Bureau, but no one else has been arrested. <h2>The Dubai connection</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040340_24b1b75831e1c8f60a485965e7f5bd2633e3ae35c5d5366c0a9d42b97da33041.jpg" data-media-id="editor_31" data-image-id="20250321040340_24b1b75831e1c8f60a485965e7f5bd2633e3ae35c5d5366c0a9d42b97da33041" data-rendition-name="original" width="1201" height="653" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in ‘scam camps’ escape to tell the tale NT"> <figcaption>Human traffickers take various routes to take recruits from Nepak to Burma.</figcaption> </figure>  Traffickers have not just targeted desperate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-women-flee-abuse-for-overseas-work?utm_source=etahernus.com&amp;amp%3Butm_medium=referral&amp;amp%3Butm_campaign=the-government-bans-everything">Nepalis seeking foreign employment</a>, but also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR2IAf90rgfF7kBhJaHoH_N0eHadKV8UDt6gpZoLCtwoTCOqBigvopAhzgM_aem_RgmcfwotY89YwGuwc2aRuQ">Nepali migrant workers already employed in the Gulf</a>. Agents also use Dubai as a transit point, taking unsuspecting Nepalis on visit visas, setting them up in apartments before dispatching them to scam rings across Southeast Asia. Of the 11 people in Burma sent back to Nepal by the Karen State Border Guard Force, half had arrived in Burma from Dubai. One of them, Yograj Liwang from Jhapa, had been working in Dubai on a visit visa, and had reached Burma in October 2022, initially receiving information on<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/facebook-nation"> Facebook</a>.&nbsp; Last August, Nepal’s Central Investigation Bureau (CIB) arrested 36 individuals including two Chinese nationals after raiding a cryptocurrency trading ring in Lalitpur which had been trafficking Nepalis in Dubai. That syndicate with tentacles in the UAE, Nepal, and China had defrauded people of more than Rs105 million.&nbsp; “The Chinese had contacts in Burma, Thailand, Laos and Cambodia,” says a Deputy Superintendent of Police involved in the investigation. “Although there is no evidence that this group sent Nepalis to those countries, we have reason to suspect that they are responsible.” There is no way to know how many Nepalis have been scammed into working as scammers across the other three <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/asia-s-new-cold-war">Southeast Asian nations</a>. Returnees estimate that around 2,000 Nepalis have been forced into working for online scam rings. &nbsp;&nbsp; Some names have been changed.

Nepalis in ‘scam camps’ escape to tell the tale

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

We walk past familiar neighbourhoods and wonder how much it has changed. An ongoing exhibition at The Kalā Salon titled Changing Times by The Pagoda Group aims to do just that -- capture ever-changing society within a captivating display of colourful canvases. Brick-lined houses, local tea shops, ancient temples, quiet devotion are themes in Pradhumna Shrestha’s series Shangri-La, much of which is an imagined past filled with nostalgia of the place he grew up in. By keeping people out of the frame, he allows space for what he calls a divine aura to surface.&nbsp; “I was born and brought up here and my canvases echo the nostalgia of cities like Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur which are dense with myth, folklore, religion, and an ever-present divinity. All of this is truly what is ours, and we must treasure it,” says Shrestha. “Whatever I truly felt in my heart, I translated it into my work.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1036" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  The swirling clouds that drift across Shrestha’s canvases borrow from thangka and paubha traditions, lending the scenes a sense of mysticism and otherworldliness. Within this dreamscape are red circular forms which represent wheels of chariots. &nbsp;The presence of divinity dominates from above, its presence asserted in soft blue brushstrokes below, as if the deity’s gaze itself has seeped into the land. Gods linger as guardians and temples hum with enigma in his paintings. In his much earlier work, Cultural Bond, a lakhe masked dancer bursts forward in vibrant red, dancing against a backdrop of molten gold clouds. The lakhe’s trance signifies protection and where it steps, the evil cannot follow. Hence, the skulls that surround but never fall beneath its feet but, one leg hangs suspended in midair, suggesting uncertainty, raising questions.&nbsp; Is this a symbol of culture and tradition, secure, or is it endangered by modernity? The work captures a society at a crossroads, honouring tradition while grappling with the risk of drifting away from it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="979" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In Panchatatva Mandala, Pasang Bikram Lama fuses two mandalas into a single visual meditation, suggesting unity where each colour carries symbolic weight: yellow evokes the soil of the earth, blue flows as water, red burns with fire, and black opens into the vastness of the spatial sky. Together, these elements form a quiet cosmology that speaks of creation and dissolution, of life folding endlessly into death and returning again. Says Lama, “Everyone has a mandala of their own being, and the elements represent their cycle of life.” Mala Shrestha’s works Water of the Divine Mother and The Spirit of Serenity unfold in a dreamy and delicate fusion of nature and religion, suggesting that divine forms are not separate from the natural world. Trees and branch-like motifs appear as origins of sacred sculptures and spiritual presences.&nbsp; Her goddesses, adorned in alluring ornaments, emerge from trunks and streams, painted in aqua green, pink pastels, and rustic browns, as if grown rather than created, affirming that the divine is inseparable from nature and present everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Kishor Nakarmi’s Essence of Nepal, where Gautam Buddha appears embedded within leaves, brick walls, birds, and wilderness, dissolving boundaries between the sacred and the earthly. These canvases radiate calm and their subtlety is enriched by finely observed details. Similarly, Rudra Bahadur Pun captures the vitality of mask dances and ritual movements found in the monasteries of Mustang, weaving together tradition, landscape, and daily life. The essence of the exhibition comes together in Roshan Pradhan’s works. His paintings reflect a contemporary tension where technology collides with ancestral myth and the power of tradition. A fierce Garud rises within a landscape saturated by technological apparatuses, while at its feet a human form representing AI clings tightly, attempting to assert control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In another work, Bhairab confronts a human embodiment of AI in a theatrical standoff, with the deity ultimately prevailing, reaffirming endurance over technological dominance. The human figures in Pradhan’s paintings are drawn from life with his friends volunteering as models, photographed and later translated onto canvas.&nbsp; “Technology has taken over our lives. Many can probably not even imagine life without it now. But, culture, too, is integral to human existence. Our life would be much different without our culture; it is a part of us,” notes the artist. Rather than framing technology as purely antagonistic, Pradhan explores coexistence, and while acknowledging its destructive potential, he affirms his belief in the power of our myths and traditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Pradhan adds, “These paintings are also an archive of its time. Viewers centuries from now may read these paintings as records of the age we inhabit. While technology is important, cultural continuity must walk alongside it. Festivals must still be celebrated, oral traditions must be sustained, and our roots must be remembered, especially by future generations.” Curator Sophia L Pande says the exhibition took more than a year to put together:&nbsp; “It responds to a shifting world, seeking to capture both transformation and the quiet fear of loss. Its themes move fluidly across environment, technology, artificial intelligence, and climate change, reflecting the diverse yet interconnected practices of the artists, providing a glimpse into the evolving landscape of contemporary Nepali art.” Changing Times The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11AM-8PM

Time, transience, transition

In December we headlined an analysis in this paper that the election was going to be a fight between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-2026-eyyt3itl">Old and New</a>. With just a month to go for polls, it is now looking more like New vs New.
The symbolic Balendra Shah vs K P Oli struggle has now been replaced by a face-off between Shah and Gagan Thapa, the new leader of the Nepali Congress (NC).
The Tarai with its vast vote bank has become the battleground for this fight with Shah contesting against Oli in Jhapa and Thapa standing in Sarlahi. And social media is the arena for this epic clash of personality cults.
Which means that instead of finding solutions to problems like health, education, jobs, inflation and social welfare, it is all about optics and stunts. AI-generated and algorithm-driven memes are influencing people’s choices.
“This is not democracy but a very morphed form of political consumerism where political men are selling their brand, and people are lapping that up,” says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal.&nbsp;
“Democracy is a way of life, it is not one size fits all, it doesn’t bully opposing voices, it is civilised, personable, tolerant.”
To be sure, Shah and Lamichhane claim to represent GenZ aspirations for cleaner and more efficient government, much like they did in 2022. But elections are expensive, and that is the root of corruption. Shah driving around Nepal in a flashy Defender SUV loaned by a noodle tycoon is proof to some that despite all the rhetoric of ‘new’ it is the same old crony-driven politics.
Author Mohan Mainali says party cadre used to mobilise voluntarily during campaigns, but Nepal’s elections have long stopped being about issues and ideology,
“But political parties lost their morality, and when their actions opposed their avowed principles, the spirit of elections was lost too,” Mainali says. “Cadre and crowds have to be rented, making elections more expensive, and it looks much worse this time around.”
Parties both old and new have moved so far away from what they promise in their manifestos, that it makes little sense to have them. All this means that this election is not so much about what the new candidates can do, but a protest vote against the tried, tested and failed legacy parties.
And that decision is made on the basis of ‘who’ rather than ‘what’. Who wins in Jhapa 5, for example, will determine the future course of Nepal. The winner there will eliminate one prime ministerial candidate, and then set up the possibility of a contest with Gagan Thapa.&nbsp;
“The real question is, can the RSP and NC, which have already declared their prime ministerial candidates muster majorities in Parliament?” Mainali muses. “In all likelihood no. The proportional representation vote is very important so people are tempted to vote based on who will be the next prime minister. But that is not how our system is supposed to work.”&nbsp;
Madhes Province has over 3.6 million voters, and more than half of Nepal’s population is in the Tarai. That can make or break the election for candidates. In the past parties have canvassed in the polls only to ignore the region once in power. And that goes for many Madhesi leaders themselves.
It was only after the 2015 federal republican Constitution that Madhes saw some representation, but it has been mostly sidelined in the GenZ protests.
In his analysis for the Annapurna Post this week, Birganj-based political commentator Chandrakishore writes that the Madhes should not just be a vote bank, but a political conscience for the nation.
‘Federalism has not favoured the Madhes, but it is the duty of the state. The parties that made the Constitution should tell us why federalism was weakened. The RSP should answer why it ignored the provincial structure in the past. The Madhes only wanted identity, representation, rights, and good governance,’ he wrote.
Indeed, it is ironic that the RSP that has been ambiguous on federalism, is now actively campaigning in the capital of federalism with Balendra Shah now capitalising on his plains ancestry — something he has not emphasised in the past.&nbsp;
“On one hand you say you want to remove provinces because there are too many positions which have become extremely costly for the state but you are also assuring your aides that there are plenty of positions to be doled out in the current federal structure,” says Sucheta Pyakuryal.
She adds: “You could forgo the ideology which we have done in Nepali politics for a long time now, you don’t even have to be a diehard socialist or liberal to enter the political arena but when even the lowest benchmarks such as basic decency and honesty are not met, how can you represent the people? We want representatives who look like us, sound like us, think like us, not brand names and saviours.”&nbsp;

New vs New in Nepal

The car’s trunk was crammed with boxes and suitcases, almost to the roof, and I was just waiting for the inevitable heart-wrenching screech or thud from underneath as I feathered on the accelerator, trying to cross through the infamous Daunne uphill section of the East-West Highway in an MPV.&nbsp; But to my surprise, the ground clearance of 170mm did not fail. Daunne, roughly 15km long, is the landslide prone ridge between Narayanghat and Butwal section, which is perennially affected by traffic jams, thanks to ongoing (and never ending) road expansion. Traffic jams here can be tens of kilometres long. On a November 2025 trip to Bhairawa it was dry enough to wade through the dreaded Daunne where the choice on the ‘road’ is either mud or dust (or both).&nbsp; The BYD M6 MPV EV borrowed for the journey claimed a range of 440km and 580L of space at the back in an almost 4.7m long form factor.&nbsp; On board were two family members and my five-year-old dog, Kulfi (pictured) who needed frequent stretch breaks for his paws. Stopping to charge the car was most certainly not on my to-do list. Within the first 20km from Koteswor, there were already multiple DC chargers along the roadside. They were fast chargers usually between 30 to 60kWs capacities, meaning a charge to 80% would take on average less than an hour. Nepal now boasts over 1,200 charging stations, each station is often equipped with multiple charging guns. This was a stark contrast to the harsh reality of charger anxiety I faced a couple of years in our family car, the Hyundai Kona. Back then, on the way back from Pokhara there was only a single charging gun at River Side Resort in Kurintar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2652" height="984" loading="lazy" alt="Page 5 map"> </figure>  These were only fast AC chargers of speeds up to 6kWs, unlike today’s much faster DC chargers. This meant the car would take multiple hours to hit the 80% mark -- and the charger would sometimes (shockingly, and without explanation) be out of operation. No one to ask questions, and no one to answer either. While I never needed to charge my EV on the way to Pokhara from Kathmandu, my precautionary nature never allowed me to climb into the Valley via Naubise without a charge. One bad accident, some sort of natural disaster, and you knew the roads would be clogged with traffic and shut down for at least a couple of hours.&nbsp; Fast forward to the present. My mind was at ease. Even if one of the charging stations was crowded, there was conveniently another one 15 minutes away. But the BYD M6 did not require any of that anyway.&nbsp; Not only did it traverse the rough highway from Kathmandu to Mugling, and then onward over the Daunne pass with ease but because the car was heavy and low, it handled high speeds and corners like a champ.&nbsp; Foot down on the accelerator and it climbed to triple digit speeds without breaking a sweat. Put your foot relatively harder on the brakes and it would equally shed its momentum, all the while being economical. After multiple quick stretch stops for Kulfi, and a proper one hour lunch break, I had arrived at Bhairawa before nightfall, still with around 100km of range left in the car and most importantly, with all the luggage intact.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Bye-bye range anxiety NT"> </figure>  ROUNDTRIP A week later, my return trip to Kathmandu saw an additional passenger and even more luggage – but once again, I arrived back in Kathmandu with ease: both the M6 and Nepal’s charger infrastructure had exceeded my expectations and needs.&nbsp; This 600km drive to and from Bhairawa from the mountains around Kathmandu to the Tarai plains, with not-so-smooth hilly terrain in between, highlighted not only how far electric vehicles have evolved but also showed how far the charging infrastructure (once a major irritant during the Covid years) had come.&nbsp; EVs in Nepal are no longer niche products; they are available across budgets and segments, ranging in form factor from micro city commuters and family hatchbacks to compact SUVs, pickups, and even full-size MPVs.&nbsp; One noticeable improvement on the highways is that the charging infrastructure has grown from a scattered and company-installed. NEA units along major routes have now converted into full-fledged, round-the-clock networks that allow flexibility and convenience to those of us who like to enjoy our times on the road.&nbsp; What once felt like a gamble, now feels like momentum — and the road ahead for electric mobility in Nepal looks smoother. &nbsp;&nbsp; Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on Youtube, Tiktok and IG and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.