This is the 91st 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. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

The nation’s daughter

As war escalates across West Asia, Nepali workers navigate fear, uncertainty and the pressure to keep earning, while back home a new government readies to take charge. &nbsp;&nbsp; Khagendra Basnet, 42, has spent seven years as a security guard here. He sits silently during a long night shift as his mobile phone screeches alerts. Explosions follow as Iranian missiles and drones are intercepted overhead.&nbsp; Three weeks into the war, residents in Qatar have gone from fear to resignation, some even returning to dinners at the Pearl and Souq Waqif under flashes of missiles in the sky.&nbsp; Basnet’s company contracted him to US-affiliated institutions and he works near the American Embassy. He is apprehensive, “I panic from time to time as there is no saying when it is safe.” Qatar’s location and its US air base at Al Udeid puts it at risk of Iranian missile attacks. The base was struck on the very first day of the war on 28 February. Oil and gas installations in Iran and across the Gulf were targetted this week.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090332_e3b4c07574b9680a40263d0a005bd08a2864a4c49747762203fd92d01cdf799a.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260319090332_e3b4c07574b9680a40263d0a005bd08a2864a4c49747762203fd92d01cdf799a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1036" height="582" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Doha during war"> </figure>  While no deaths have been reported in Qatar so far, there is fear among Nepalis in the Gulf states, as well as in Israel itself where there are 7,000 caregivers and nurses.&nbsp; Three South Asian migrant workers were killed by debris from intercepted Iranian drones above Abu Dhabi on 28 February. Among them was 29-year-old Diwas Shrestha from Gorkha, who had been working as a security guard. “Hearing that news made my heart ache,” says Basnet. “What if my family has to bear a similar tragedy without saying goodbye, and hearing from news sources?” Basnet came to Qatar to save enough to support his family. His company had promised him a plane ticket home in April, but Doha airport is only partially open for limited routes. He says, “My family is really worried. I assure them that it’s all ok, just to lessen their fear.” Basnet’s thoughts are about the political change back home in Nepal. He blames the decades of corrupt governments for not creating opportunities for people like him in Nepal, and forcing him to work in a war zone. The Foreign Ministry issued an advisory to the nearly 2 million Nepalis in Israel, Iran and other West Asian countries telling them to follow local security instructions.&nbsp; “We have formed an Emergency Response Team with different departments in light of the ongoing conflict in West Asia. We are closely monitoring the situation through our 24/7-operating control rooms, our embassies and advisories in the region, and online information forms,” says Lok Bahadur Poudel Chettri of the Foreign Ministry in Kathmandu. More than 65,000 Nepali citizens have registered in the ministry's online system, among whom roughly 6,000 requested emergency assistance.&nbsp; Foreign Minister Balananda Sharma has said Nepal would “use both air and sea routes” if the number of people requiring assistance increases.&nbsp; However, the department sees no immediate need for mass-evacuation from the region.&nbsp; But for many workers here, the issue is not only whether they are officially asked to leave. It is whether they can afford to.&nbsp; On 14 March MoFA advised Nepalis in Qatar to secure Saudi tourist visas in advance so they could use the Salwa border route and fly out to Nepal.&nbsp; Other governments evacuated their nationals through overland transfers, charter flights, and consular assistance routed via Saudi Arabia or Oman.&nbsp; The Indian Embassy in Qatar facilitated departures through limited Qatar Airways flights and through Saudi Arabia, including temporary 96-hour Saudi transit visas for its Indian nationals.&nbsp; “I checked the available options and it will cost at least 4,000 riyals (Rs157,000) to fly to Nepal via Saudi Arabia, and most flights are already booked,” says Basnet, whose salary is only 1,800 riyal a month. NEW NORMAL For most migrant workers in Qatar, fear has become routine. Arun Thapa, 31, works at a food delivery company here, and was in his room scrolling through TikTok when he first saw videos and updates about war breaking out 28 February.&nbsp; Before he could fully process what was happening, emergency alerts began ringing on his phone, followed by explosions in the sky.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090332_4eeb6f20a1006baa2eaaa8461759a99a8c257099725c7bc3acf1b4b21a893603.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260319090332_4eeb6f20a1006baa2eaaa8461759a99a8c257099725c7bc3acf1b4b21a893603" data-rendition-name="original" width="1096" height="319" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Doha during war"> <figcaption>Snoonu, a Qatar-based food delivery app, message to its customers on the initial days of the conflict</figcaption> </figure>  For Thapa this was less scary than the Israeli air strike in Doha last September targetting the Hamas leadership. He was delivering food when he heard the bombs go off at that time.&nbsp; “That day, I was really frightened. It was my first time seeing this,” recalls Thapa. “That is not to say I am not scared now, of course, I am,” he says. “I try not to overthink, and get on with my job.” Thapa came to Qatar 10 years ago after being first rejected for medical reasons. He first worked in Bangalore as a waiter, and connections he built there helped him secure a job in a supermarket in Qatar. Unlike many migrants he did not have to pay an exorbitant amount to recruiters. Still, he was promised a salary of 2,500 riyals a month, which was the main reason he agreed to come, but found out he would earn only half that.&nbsp; His job is risky even without war: riders spend long hours on the road, exposed to traffic, heat and now the possibility of falling missile debris. But he came here to earn and save, and this means he has to overcome his fear. Thapa wants to stay on for another two years because he still has loans after buying land for his family. “It has become a habit. If I hear an alert, I park my bike to watch the fireworks, and get back to delivering,” he says. “People are not as scared as they were at first. Despite everything, Qatar feels safe.”&nbsp; But if the war escalates, Thapa does not expect much from his company beyond the annual return ticket, he will have to fend for himself. He is somewhat more optimistic about the Nepal Embassy helping than before.&nbsp; Even though Nepal is a neutral country, its citizens are now scattered across the globe — many of them in war zones like West Asia. Ten Nepalis were killed in the Hamas attack on Israel in 2023, at the Canadian Embassy in Kabul in 2014, and the dozen Nepalis were killed in Iraq in 2004. At least 1,000 Nepalis are fighting in the Russian Army against Ukraine, and 110 have been killed. Economic desperation and tempting offers by recruiters pushes many to risk their lives just to support their families. “Labour and migration must be diversified and not be entirely dependent on Gulf countries,” says Pitambar Ghimire at the Ministry of Labour, Employment and Social Security in Kathmandu. “We must ensure safe and dignified migration in our labour diplomacy.” With the change of government in Nepal, there is hope among migrants that in the long term there will be better job opportunities, but there is the immediate risk posed by the West Asia war.&nbsp; Nepal needs to move beyond lip service to migrant workers for supporting the country with their remittances, to ensuring their safety and security.&nbsp; Khagendra Basnet stares out at the glittering Doha skyline, gives a worrying glance at the sky, saying,“I hope I can still live safely and be here to work and earn. If not, I will have to find a way back.”&nbsp; Some names have been changed to protect their identity.

Migrant workers in wartime

This is the 84th 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. A foreign country called me, Nepal told me to leave Ambar Bahadur BK I am headed to Dubai. Prior to this, I have worked in Qatar, Malaysia, Saudi and now I am re-migrating. My family members have all voted, but I never got a chance to vote myself. I have never seen a voting booth. Because I have always been away during elections. &nbsp; My ticket is already issued. A foreign country called me, Nepal told me to leave and not be around on election day. Nepal is not changing its face, but we migrants change the face of other people’s countries. We are leaving, but when we return we want Nepal to be how we have imagined it to be – as developed as the countries we work in. That would make us happy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070236_e11576fa6934131beedda091ffd7bb22dada6c99c428d4812937d79c7037b22e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260216070236_e11576fa6934131beedda091ffd7bb22dada6c99c428d4812937d79c7037b22e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  What more can I say? I am going abroad again. I will again have to work hard. This is not a choice, it is a compulsion. Why would we leave the country if there were jobs in Nepal, if we got paid on time for work we complete? We work for a month and wait almost a year for the salary. A labourer earns Rs21,000 and a carpenter Rs28,000 in Nepal. But even for that we are made to wait. There are no savings. We leave so we can save. Recruiters and their agents cheat us. We rely on them because we are unable find the jobs ourselves. We have little education but even the educated are cheated. We are the sons of poor fellow-Nepalis. We are not from millionaire families. We migrate so we can support our families. I hope some day we Nepalis can fly out as tourists and not migrant workers. &nbsp;That will be the day when we can make enough money with pride in Nepal so we can go overseas for a holiday. As migrant workers abroad, we work hard. The tiredness after a long day’s work is worth it when we get our salary promptly every month. That money goes back home to raise our children. I am hoping good luck will follow me this time and my dreams will come true. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-nepali-vote-bank">Overseas Nepali vote bank</a>, Diaspora Diaries I have never voted Shreejana Lama  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_71abdf3ca5d51b9b2f43290f646946f0c7b59ef3a2b57444e9562d0e72be02ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260216070240_71abdf3ca5d51b9b2f43290f646946f0c7b59ef3a2b57444e9562d0e72be02ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Sindhupalchok, headed to Cyprus because there are no jobs in Nepal. Prior to this, I was in Jordan. I did not vote in the past because I was too young, but even though I am now of &nbsp;voting age I have to migrate just as election day approaches. I feel sad about it. I hope the new government will work to create meaningful jobs at home so we do not have to leave. There are jobs in Nepal but the pay is not enough even for rent and food. For us it is important to get jobs without paying high fees because we are leaving precisely because we do not have that kind of money. Migration makes sense if you learn the language and have skills, or else it will not be enough overseas either. It would also be good if migrants got jobs with salaries that are promised. In many cases, they find out the jobs were not what were promised by recruiters. If we face any problem overseas, the Nepali recruiter should be responsible and the government should help us. I am going to Cyprus for two years. When I am back in two years, I hope there are jobs in Nepal so I do not have to go off again. I also hope Nepal is cleaner. What will we gain by voting? Hira Kaji Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_833650f21e3922c713f9207129c804ddffc2afd6ee4b917e453ee7c4256cd265.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260216070240_833650f21e3922c713f9207129c804ddffc2afd6ee4b917e453ee7c4256cd265" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Sindhupalchok, and am headed to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/our-migrant-sons">Malaysia</a>. Prior to this, I had gone to Dubai but it did not work out and I returned after 7 months. I then re-migrated to Malaysia and was home for a vacation. I migrate because there are no jobs in Nepal. At least in an overseas job you can save some money. I have to take care of my family. All responsibilities are on my shoulders, so I have to go. I have voted once in the past during elections. There was no point to it. For people like us, votes don’t matter. It is for party cadres, not for simple people like us. There are no jobs, there is nothing. Elections would have mattered if there were good people to vote for. Let us see how the new candidates do. My two month vacation is over, but I have to fly out just before election day. The new government should create jobs so people like us do not have to migrate. &nbsp;We are not even asking for much, jobs that pay up to Rs20,000 would be good enough for people like us. The government should help Nepalis stranded overseas, their voices should be heard. When I come home to Nepal next, I hope good roads will have reached remote places in Nepal and everyone has basic service. I hope we will have factories and jobs, good health posts in remote areas so people don’t have to go to the cities. I can’t afford to wait for elections Chandra Bahadur Sunar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_32a29e167ac6f2fcac3613bbc0b72273a69f8e8d75d617b62b5e55c8c591811c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260216070240_32a29e167ac6f2fcac3613bbc0b72273a69f8e8d75d617b62b5e55c8c591811c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I have been living in Bahrain for eight years, and before this I worked in Saudi and India. I never had a chance to vote. My three-month vacation is over. I have to resume work and could not wait for the election. Do I vote or do I work to pay my children’s school fees? How will I pay for household expenses in Nepal if I stayed to vote? I could not afford to wait. The new government has to address unemployment so that people can stay in Nepal. There are no jobs, expenses are high. Education and health should also be made affordable and accessible. The government can negotiate for better salaries for its citizens abroad. It should also increase to keep up with inflation. I will come back in 2-3 years. When I return I hope it will not take me 17 hours to get to Kathmandu from Nepalganj. Roads should improve, there should be jobs for the jobless, education for the uneducated. That’s all, isn’t it? My prayer for Nepal Shyam Bahadur Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070244_ca58e3c9214fc91275ad85e354eb5d888c81edf02764bd49826acd423c049d27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260216070244_ca58e3c9214fc91275ad85e354eb5d888c81edf02764bd49826acd423c049d27" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Kavre. I am headed to Malaysia. I have worked in Malaysia before after which I went to Saudi Arabia for three years. Foreign employment has worked for me so far. I have voted once. This time, I could not wait for election day since my visa arrived. I will vote in future elections once I am back. I hope the new government can create an environment so we do not have to leave. If we could work in Nepal, we would be close to our families and happy. The new government should focus on jobs. And for those of us who migrate, the government should prioritise <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/valuing-moral-migration">free visa and free ticket jobs</a> so that migration is affordable and we can save. At the moment, no matter which recruiter we go to, they say it is free, but there is always a huge fee. The government should stop this malpractice. When I come home in a few years, I hope to see a new Nepal that has a strong government. I want to see reforms and big changes. There are too many protests and much instability. Even small issues lead to demonstrations, and lives are lost. I pray that this does not happen again. That is my prayer for Nepal.

Nepal’s voters are migrating

This is the 83rd 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. Spain is regularising over 500,000 undocumented workers, and Nepalis come to me inquiring about the program. Those who benefit from it will be very lucky, as it is a life-changing opportunity. I know because I too benefited from the last large scaled regularisation program back in 2005. I left Nepal in 2000 and went to Germany, Belgium, France before landing in Spain. Things were pretty bad in Nepal back then with the Maoist conflict and strikes.&nbsp; Our business was impacted. There was not much hope. When you leave Nepal, you want to make something of yourself and support your family back home. But you have to dream in phases.&nbsp; The first dream is to get ‘kagaj’ or a temporary residence card (TRC). Only then can you focus on your actual dreams. Whether it was because the countries I traveled were not a good fit or because the chances of getting the document was low, I kept country hopping until I reached Spain in 2004. I have not left since.&nbsp; In Spain, I felt at home. The European dream had brought me here, salaries were higher than Gulf which I thought was too strict. Then there was the possibility of traveling to seven European countries back then with the Schengen visa.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260210150228_b57c873801361755cf25048f294b2d1d0574796ef70a0e270531ced2508f64ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260210150228_b57c873801361755cf25048f294b2d1d0574796ef70a0e270531ced2508f64ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Spain"> </figure>  But mostly, I just wanted a secure life for me and my family. What I valued the most about Europe was free healthcare and education. This is very important because in other parts of the world including Nepal, people from our background are just one small disease away from losing half our capital and we spend a significant amount of money on educational expenses. Nepali dais back then told me it would be best to go to either Italy, Spain or Portugal if we wanted to establish ourselves as paper work was relatively easier there than in other European countries. My initial days in Spain without the paper work were difficult. Not concerns about being raided or deported because if we had our apartment, even police let us be.&nbsp; But it was because of unfair pay. You could not go home. It made you tense and irritable. It affects your mental well-being. Some are smart enough to invest time in skills as they wait that will prove useful. Others get depressed. The main reason we migrate is to support our family and when you cannot do it properly and are uncertain about when things will get better, it bothers you. This happened to me too, sometimes I would be staring at the TV and would flinch when other Nepalis asked me what is wrong, and why I look so lost.&nbsp; The newspaper Canarias also interviewed us about our conditions (pictured). I had not gone home since five years, and there was no way to. There was no social media like now to talk to family. Calling home from booths was expensive, just once every three weeks. You did not talk. It was just to hear voices, pass the phone around to say a quick hello.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260210150232_8af8b6f6acb1252e0d67a43556e21ff8074543acfcc318c985816479c6146fd9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260210150232_8af8b6f6acb1252e0d67a43556e21ff8074543acfcc318c985816479c6146fd9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Spain"> </figure>  When you are undocumented, you don’t get fair wages. But you make that sacrifice because my bigger goal was to establish myself and in the meantime, to support family with whatever I could earn with my wages. All we could do was wait for a regularisation program to open. When Spain initiated such a program in 2005, we were so relieved. We were relatively new so did not understand the language. Other Nepalis guided us and were well-versed in the latest updates via news and consultation with immigration lawyers which they would pass on to us. This time, the regularisation program will come through within 30 days, but back then it took time. I had to wait for nine months. Those nine months felt like nine years. I would keep visiting the cyber café to check my online status. When friends got their notification, I would get even more anxious and wonder if I would get rejected. Maybe today? Maybe tomorrow? It was a long wait. I wanted to know what it felt like to hold the card in my hand. Then I could hold my five-year-old baby back in Nepal in my hand. She was born after I left for Europe. When I finally got it after nine months, I could not be happier. I informed my family. I thanked God. Even when I was having food, I would put the card right in front of me on my table. Food never tasted better, I would eat twice the amount with happiness. It was a different kind of elation — it opened the doors for me to think about my dreams, my targets and how to realise them.&nbsp; There was no stopping me now, I was going to go far. But mostly, I could go home. In that flight back to Nepal after six years my heart swelled and I knelt on the tarmac to pay respect to my motherland. The minute I saw my parents, I touched their feet for blessings. My wife and I cried. My daughter was scared of me and would run away - it took some time for her to get comfortable with my presence. I still break down when I think about it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260210150232_beba1745d845e219eaeaaf1bc33e0a02c07748ebd80bcc74a467c933cc5602e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260210150232_beba1745d845e219eaeaaf1bc33e0a02c07748ebd80bcc74a467c933cc5602e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Spain"> </figure>  A few trips to Nepal later, I brought my family to Spain after I had fulfilled various rules for family migration. As expenses rise for a migrant, the choice is to either work extra hours or start your own business. Since I got the TRC, I have done it all: various jobs, businesses from selling handicraft from India to a cyber cafe, and the restaurant business.&nbsp; As an entrepreneur, I have seen highs when I could open a second restaurant branch or earn enough to buy an apartment. I have seen lows where I closed down businesses and sold apartment. I have gone from an entrepreneur to a wage job to recoup the losses I made by working extra hours. When I felt comfortable enough, I have gone back to starting a new business.&nbsp; I have met wonderful people who have supported me when I started my business either by providing me financial help or as business partners. I have been duped by my own business partner or worked with colleagues who did not want me to prosper. I now run a handicraft shop, an Indian restaurant and a café. The struggle never ends. There are many Nepalis like me who are running businesses here and have bought property. Back in 2004, Nepalis were mostly working in jobs and for a slight salary bump, we would keep switching jobs. Now, they run their own businesses and have bought property. The power of honesty and hard work that Nepalis are known for helps in businesses. Malaga is incredibly beautiful and reminds me of Thamel. The brilliant weather and beautiful beaches attracts tourists. The houses are kept small to preserve the culture and civilisation.&nbsp; I miss Nepal. I especially miss my father who passed in 2020. He was my biggest cheerleader as I struggled thousands of miles away, and always reminded me that he was here for back support. My mother reminds me to keep at it without worrying.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260210150232_2cea4b66ad47c15859980c696446362603b10981a1b471ab5e076a22a58727b1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260210150232_2cea4b66ad47c15859980c696446362603b10981a1b471ab5e076a22a58727b1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2077" height="1433" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Spain"> </figure>  Sometimes I ask myself, what did I leave behind to earn money and provide a good life to my family? I regret not getting to spend more time with my father before he died. I am not sure what would have happened if I had not left Nepal, but I would have figured something out. Whatever determination I have shown in Spain to navigate my life here, I would have used it back home, too.&nbsp; I have missed important milestones like weddings, births, deaths and festivals. I have missed it all. Of my three daughters I missed the births of the first two in Nepal. I was only there for my youngest’s birth, in Spain.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260210150232_a6295e4f58d73e5b340235caf916b98eba785e3559341ea4622629c262e7b1a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260210150232_a6295e4f58d73e5b340235caf916b98eba785e3559341ea4622629c262e7b1a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1630" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Spain"> </figure>  The regularisation program from 2005 that allowed me to raise the living standards of a number of living around me and reunite with my family. This platform was life changing for me, and my loved ones. There are many Nepalis who will be applying for the 2026 regularisation program if they meet the criteria like presence in the country for at least five months before December 31, 2025. Other European countries have tightened their policies so many Nepalis are in Spain. This is a great opportunity for Nepalis. There are many more undocumented workers than the available quota, a majority from Latin America in Spain who want to benefit. The Nepali diaspora is helping raise awareness and provide accurate information about the processes so they can benefit and no one is left out. I do whatever I can to support young Nepalis because I was in the same position 20 years ago.

Dreaming in phases

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.

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

Home Minister Sudan Gurung resigned on Wednesday following increasing coverage of and criticism over his investment in companies linked to controversial Nepali business figures Sulav Agrawal and Deepak Bhatta, who are currently under investigation for money laundering.
‘I am resigning from the position of Home Minister effective today to ensure impartial investigation into matters associated with me, and to make sure that there is no conflict of interest,’ Gurung wrote, saying that morality and public trust mattered more to him than office.
Gurung ended his message to the nation in English as he invoked the security forces, writing: &nbsp;‘For my country and For the respect of our security forces and For the youths of Nepal.’
<div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/post.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fsudangrghaminepal%2Fposts%2Fpfbid0ZPJ61BVi6p5siCoatgmezxWoJ2ttTBVNDJji8kLZe7EdDEvZHBuQmTEaRyZye75Pl&show_text=true&width=500" width="500" height="263" style="border:none;overflow:hidden" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true" allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; picture-in-picture; web-share"></iframe></div>
Gurung has become the second member to depart the Cabinet, serving for less than a month, despite the Nepali electorate’s hopes that Nepal would finally get a stable government after the RSP’s sweeping victory in the March elections.&nbsp;
Prime Minister Balendra Shah had sought clarification from Gurung on Wednesday after new details emerged about his shares in two micro-insurance companies, Star Micro Insurance and Liberty Micro Life, which are said to have been issued their licence by the Nepal Insurance Authority at the behest of Bhatta and Agrawal.
Gurung denied financial misconduct, saying that his investment in the two companies was included in his asset disclosure and insisting the misunderstanding is because of how the shares have been categorised.&nbsp;
Leaders within the RSP had called for an internal investigation into Gurung as they sought to maintain the party’s platform of clean governance and transparency. As such, Gurung’s position had become increasingly untenable, especially since former Labour Minister was sacked without being given an opportunity for clarification over a disciplinary breach involving his wife’s appointment to the Health Insurance Board.&nbsp;
On social media, Sah on Tuesday seemed to express dissatisfaction over the PM’s request for Gurung’s clarification.&nbsp;
Judging by the comments under Gurung’s resignation post, a significant part of the Nepali public seems to be firmly on Gurung’s side, blaming the mass media and what they call mouthpieces of old parties for driving him out of the Cabinet.&nbsp;
This is a reflection of his meteoric rise and the continued support he has maintained since he stepped into the spotlight as the leader of Nepal’s youth movement in the aftermath of the September protest.&nbsp;
Gurung has made headlines constantly ever since he burst onto the national stage, which includes questions over the degree of his and his organisation Hami Nepal’s involvement in the September 9 unrest, calls to divulge details behind Hami Nepal’s finances, and not paying five years of rent for an illegal lakefront property in Pokhara.&nbsp;
There have also been unsubstantiated claims, despite Gurung’s denial, about his ‘ties’ to the Free Tibet movement, which has made the Chinese— as well as Nepalis— wary.&nbsp;
As Home Minister, Gurung cultivated an image of a tough but approachabe leader, overseeing a series of high-profile arrests of previous political leadership and business figures even as he posted photos of sleeping in a sofa in his office, and engaged with the public on the streets and on social media.&nbsp;
As it stands, the Home Ministry was a bone of contention between Shah and RSP Chair Rabi Lamichhane before it was awarded to Gurung, who is a close ally of PM Shah. Analysts had noted that with Gurung in charge, the Home Ministry would be a hook for Shah if Lamichhane, with his share of controversies, stepped out of line.&nbsp;
Following Gurung’s resignation, the Prime Minister’s secretariat has said that the PM would take charge of the portfolio for the time being. But it will be interesting to see if and how fresh negotiations for the Ministry unfold within RSP.&nbsp;
And with his supporter base largely intact, it remains to be seen how much of an impact this setback will have on Sudan Gurung’s political aspirations.&nbsp;

Home Minister Sudan Gurung resigns

Sudan Gurung is dancing. It is 2009. He has an emo fringe falling over one eye and is spinning on a polished floor. His dance shows dedication — moves that take years of bruised elbows to land. The clip is 16 years old, and had been sitting in the dead archives of YouTube and old Facebook pages, watched by almost nobody. This month <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@4gr4j/video/7621892206902725909">it has 1.9 million views</a>. Gurung became Home Minister on 27 March and resigned on Wednesday, barely a month into office. His<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@aayvik/video/7626069452177542408"> pre-political life had been put back into circulation</a> at industrial speed -- the b-boying, the DJ sets, and the YouTube video of him dancing in a music clip.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026042202040_71df4d531423e7c941abde95fb8106346c70ab0afb71bbeb520cc570f14ba178.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026042202040_71df4d531423e7c941abde95fb8106346c70ab0afb71bbeb520cc570f14ba178" data-rendition-name="original" width="2300" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="When aura meets audit"> </figure>  The youth of Nepal, well-versed in snappy TikTok edits and aura compilations, turned the archive into a meme economy almost overnight. TikTok remixed the footage to trap beats. The comments settled on a nickname that crossed into everyday speech within days: 'Homie Minister'. <div class="embed-block"><blockquote class="tiktok-embed" cite="https://www.tiktok.com/@yalexthwreal/video/7622325255792512276" data-video-id="7622325255792512276" style="max-width: 605px;min-width: 325px;" > <section> <a target="_blank" title="@yalexthwreal" href="https://www.tiktok.com/@yalexthwreal?refer=embed">@yalexthwreal</a> <a title="sudangurung" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/sudangurung?refer=embed">#sudangurung</a> new home minister of Nepal😎 <a title="fyppppppppppppppppppppppp" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/fyppppppppppppppppppppppp?refer=embed">#fyppppppppppppppppppppppp</a> <a title="sudangrg" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/sudangrg?refer=embed">#sudangrg</a> <a title="home" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/home?refer=embed">#home</a> <a title="minister" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/minister?refer=embed">#minister</a> <a target="_blank" title="♬ original sound - •⪨н є α я т ❤н α ¢ к є я ⪩• - Music Universe 🎧" href="https://www.tiktok.com/music/original-sound-•⪨н-є-α-я-т-❤н-α-¢-к-є-я-⪩•-7308733170064231170?refer=embed">♬ original sound - •⪨н є α я т ❤н α ¢ к є я ⪩• - Music Universe 🎧</a> </section> </blockquote> <script async src="https://www.tiktok.com/embed.js"></script></div> As Home Minister, Gurung was in charge of the Nepal Police, Armed Police Force, Department of Immigration, and the country's internal security apparatus. Calling him 'homie' collapsed the distance between that office and the Discord server where the movement that brought him into power had organised itself. What is harder to explain is why the nostalgic clips did the narrative work for Gurung's political standing right up until the moment the paperwork did not. A teenager on a dance floor in a Thamel club, filmed before smartphones had decent cameras, was functioning as political currency for a powerful home minister, while a share registry was quietly filling the other column. The footage was not an argument. Gurung was not doing anything in it that related to home affairs. He was just dancing. The comments compared him to <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@4gr4j/video/7621892206902725909">Korean film heroes</a>. A separate <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@tandavyt7/video/7622151050128018708">48,000-like edit</a> was captioned 'Our New Home Minister Aura'. The replies were full of people saying they got chills listening to him speak. Even after his resignation, most comments on his Facebook page were supportive, saying he had been punished for pursuing truth and justice.&nbsp; Political legitimacy in Nepal has been built out of many things over the last 70 years, but it has never been built out of this. The question was always: what happens when the job starts demanding things his style, boldness, and swag cannot provide. Political aura in Nepal used to be a slow harvest, now it isn't. B P Koirala spent eight years in prison under the Panchayat. He wrote fiction at Sundari Jal. The writing survived, the prison sentences survived, and that experience became the template for what a serious Nepali politician looked like: someone the state had tried to break and failed. Legitimacy was accumulated by having their lives taken away, and refusing to bend the knee. The old mechanics of legitimacy produced politicians who could be audited. The record was made of words, dates, votes, and years behind bars. A voter who wanted to know what a leader stood for read his writings. A journalist digging for inconsistency could find it. The system was slow, often corrupt, and frequently boring. But boring was part of the job description. A minister was supposed to be slightly dull — evidence that the person was doing the unglamorous work of reading files and sitting through committee meetings. Today, boring is a disqualification. The attention economy rewards velocity and visual charge, and a politician who cannot generate either does not exist in the feed, and that means does not exist at all. The legacy parties are still issuing press statements criticising the new guard in the grammar of paper trails and procedural failure. But the audience has stopped reading, users scroll for their next viral bite. Sudan Gurung, unlike the old parties, understood exactly which grammar the feed rewarded. On his first evening as Home Minister, he posted a photo of himself sleeping on a sofa inside the ministry. Caption: creation cannot be greater than the creator, government is not above the people. The image travelled further in 12 hours than any ministerial press release has ever done.&nbsp; A minister napping on a sofa, phone-shot, zero production, read by the public as evidence of a minister who had skipped the motorcade and got straight to work. Gurung used Facebook to announce the names of former ministers and businessmen he intended to arrest. The feed was used to pre-announce state security action.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260422010456_2fa1918e1dd031d01f38b4001ee306d9414073cec0b795fa43a75cb5a8deb8c7.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260422010456_2fa1918e1dd031d01f38b4001ee306d9414073cec0b795fa43a75cb5a8deb8c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="926" height="868" loading="lazy" alt="When aura meets audit"> </figure>  INFLUENTIAL INFLUENCER This is not how the Ministry of Home Affairs has ever operated. It is how a YouTuber releases a series. Sudan Gurung was a political content creator. As home minister, he was an influential influencer kinetically doing something in the visual medium. Much like Prime Minister Balendra Shah's sunglasses, Gurung's aura, authenticity and swag were a brand asset, instantly recognisable at thumbnail size. Balen's rap career supplies a pre-political archive that authenticates him the same way Gurung's DJ sets and b-boying clips authenticated him. The aesthetic is doing the work a manifesto used to do. The work is authenticity, and the strategy is auramaxxing. The emo fringe predates the ministry. The DJ sets predate Hami Nepal. The b-boying predates the earthquake, the NGO, the September uprising, the interim cabinet, all of it. Whatever Gurung is now, he was already that person before the office existed. This was the real spectacle of the Homie Minister: authenticity. Nepal's youth have grown up watching heavily-polished, talking-point ministers speak in a language aimed at nobody in particular. But that grainy archival clip of the Home Minister from 2009 was honest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260422010456_5d6dff3a09e8b7e77dc60c3aa567c9e02b6bd5f90f94e20737ec05cc9a09023b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260422010456_5d6dff3a09e8b7e77dc60c3aa567c9e02b6bd5f90f94e20737ec05cc9a09023b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="When aura meets audit NT"> </figure>  The effect transcended GenZ. <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@ektapokharel/video/7623242573481561365">A TikTok trend</a> captioned NOT ONLY OUR HOME MINISTER, WE ARE ALSO FROM THAT ERA <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@sonykhadka/video/7624106790266948872">has millennials posting their own</a> archive photos from the same period, aligning themselves with Gurung's pre-political aesthetic. The aura did <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@_thakuri/video/7623397397556645141">cross-generational work</a>. It was a shared legibility, spanning at least 15 years of Nepali youth culture, with the Home Minister standing at its centre.&nbsp; The traditional politician's entire adult life is a performance of identity. Every photograph is lit for the media, every statement is vetted. The persona is the product, and the product has been in development for 30 years. This makes the old guard legible but suspect in the attention economy. A generation raised on authenticity-as-currency reads the decades of careful performance as evidence of something to hide. The polish is the problem. The nostalgic Sudan Gurung party clips inverted this. The polish was absent. The footage could not be performance aimed at the viewer, because the viewer did not exist in 2009 and neither did the political stakes. The clip was therefore read as real, in a way a press conference can never be. It was just a kid dancing, and he happened to grow up to be the Home Minister. But Sudan Gurung's job was never to go viral. The Ministry of Home Affairs requires the person running it to file a complete asset declaration and to avoid holding financial interests in crony entities.&nbsp; None of that work is content. A correctly filed asset declaration does not get remixed into a trap beat. A functioning immigration database is not a TikTok. The paperwork that constitutes actual governance is structurally boring in exactly the way the old parties are structurally boring, and for the same reason. It is the slow, procedural, checkable apparatus that the old system was built to produce and that the new system has not yet learned to replace. And it is painstaking follow-the-money paper trail investigative journalists in the legacy media who uncovered the evidence. You cannot auramaxx your way out of a share registry. You cannot post your way past a conflict-of-interest statute. No amount of fire outfits and wild DJ transitions does anything for you when a journalist pulls the initial shareholder list of Star Micro Insurance and finds your name at number 49, with Rs2.5 million in shares alongside investors linked to Deepak Bhatta and Sulav Agrawal — two men currently at the centre of a Rs 3.7 billion money laundering investigation. <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@blox.drop/video/7622173520981658900">Auramaxxing was engineered</a> for the mechanics of reaching office. It is the reason Sudan Gurung became Home Minister and Gagan Thapa did not. The question that had not yet been tested, until this week, was whether the same weapon works when the terrain changes. The terrain does change when you assume power. This week, the answer arrived. TWO CLOCKS Two clocks had been running, and they did not sync. The first clock was built for auramaxxing. A clip posted at eight in the morning peaked by noon. A sofa photo was remixed before the minister had left the building. The feedback loop is fast and legible, and a politician playing this clock gets real-time data on what to post next. The old guard never learned to read it, which is a large part of why they lost the election. The second clock was the one the ministry actually runs on. It measures in quarters, court calendars, and the slow grind of investigation files moving between offices. A share registry takes weeks to pull. A money-laundering case moves at the speed of the prosecutor's office, which is to say, it often does not appear to move at all, until one morning it does. The legacy mass media is fed leaks, and the second clock does not care whether the minister is currently trending. The two clocks collided this week, and the second clock got there first. Faster than anyone expected. The first clock put Gurung in the Home Ministry in weeks. The second clock put him out of it in less than a month. On Sunday evening, Diyopost and Janaastha published documents showing Gurung as a founding shareholder in Star Micro Insurance and Liberty Micro Life — companies licensed by the Nepal Insurance Authority in 2022 following what reporting identified as political lobbying by Bhatta and Agrawal. A photograph also surfaced of Hami Nepal, the NGO Gurung chairs, honouring Bhatta as a donor on 21 December 2021. Gurung's first response was auramaxxed. A Monday Facebook post distinguishing ‘rumours’ from ‘facts’, insisting the shares were disclosed within his broader Rs20 million securities portfolio, promising to cooperate with any investigation. "Allegations and truth are not the same thing," he wrote. "Decisions should be based on evidence, not sentiment." It was a coherent clip, but it did not stop the clock. By Wednesday, Prime Minister Balendra Shah had sought written clarification. Leaders within the RSP itself were calling for his resignation. The opposition Nepali Congress had framed the question as one of democratic transparency.&nbsp; Gurung resigned, posting his decision to Facebook as he did everything else. Ethics, he wrote, hold more weight than any position. There is no power greater than public trust. He ended in English, invoking ‘my country … the respect of our security forces … the youths of Nepal’. Even the exit was content. And this is the asymmetry the office exposed. A politician whose legitimacy is built on fast 30 second videos is structurally exposed to a process that runs slower than the news cycle, because the archive of aesthetic proof was not engineered to answer documentary evidence.&nbsp; It was engineered to displace the demand for documentary evidence in the first place. When that demand returns, as it always does once a politician takes office, the digital archive keeps performing, but the documents keep getting uncovered. And the two tracks do not communicate. The old guard knew this clock because they had no other clock to know. What they lost in charisma they gained in durability: a politician built over 20 years of parliamentary record is harder to dislodge with a single document because they have already survived thousands of documents. The new guard has not been stress-tested against its own paper trail. Sudan Gurung has now been tested, and the test is over, and the template has been written in his exit rather than his survival.&nbsp; A politician can enter office on the strength of a dance clip, and the same class of evidence — share registries, company filings, founding-shareholder lists at number 49 — that would have ended the career of a politician in a previous era of Nepali politics has ended his. The second clock got there. The feed did not save him. Or not entirely. Because the resignation itself is now in the feed. The Facebook post. The 46 brothers and sisters. The epic sign-off. Within hours of stepping down, Gurung had already re-enrolled his exit into the same register that put him in office. The clip of the Home Minister dancing in 2009 is still in circulation. The sofa photo still reads as sincerity. The investigation into the micro-insurance shares will move at the speed of Nepal's prosecutor's office, which is to say, at a speed the feed has long since outrun. The movement that installed Gurung in the name of ending elite capture has had its answer about whether its own hero is subject to the same audit it demanded of everyone else. He walked — or was walked — before the audit ran its course. The resignation was framed as moral choice rather than forced exit, and the framing is already winning. Whether that framing holds is the next test. Auramaxxing, it turns out, is a weapon that works in one direction only: it got him the job, and when the documents arrived, it did not save him. But it may yet save the person. These are not the same thing. If the technique is wounded, it is not yet dead. The next Nepali politician with a pre-political archive and a phone is watching how Gurung exits, not just how he entered. And the answer is: you exit the same way you entered: on Facebook. In your own voice. Before anyone else writes the caption. Whether he comes back is the thing to watch. Whether the technique does is already decided. &nbsp; &nbsp;

When Aura meets Audit

Just three weeks in, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has already shed two ministers, and is having to contend with the economic fallout of the West Asia war plus the global order that it has upended.&nbsp;
The new dispensation in Nepal has aroused interest in New Delhi, Beijing as well as Washington. The ouster of Home Minister Sudan Gurung, whose first act in office was to arrest former prime minister K P Oli, has foreign policy wonks scratching their heads.
The US sent Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asian Affairs Samir Paul Kapur on a special mission to figure out what is happening in Kathmandu. In town at the same time was Cao Jing, Deputy Director General of the Asian Affairs Department of China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. And Prime Minister Shah is preparing for an official visit to India.
For the Americans, it is mostly about containing China and looking after the welfare of Tibetan refugees, while pushing its own MCC Compact and State Partnership Program (SSP). Beijing is mindful of the post-Dalai Lama era, and does not want instability in Nepal to encourage free-Tibet activities. India lately seems more wary of American activity in what it considers its backyard.
The Chinese appear relieved to see Sudan Gurung go. Only last week, Ambassador Zhang Maoming met Gurung during which he raised the issue of Tibetan and Taiwanese activities in Nepal, seeking firm commitment that Kathmandu would not harbour activities hostile to Beijing.
“Geographically we are close to Tibet and not to the Mainland, so China remains suspicious of us, especially after the TOB and free-Tibet components that emerged from the GenZ protests,” says geopolitical analyst Indra Adhikari.
Kapur, for his part, met RSP Chair Rabi Lamichhane, Finance Minister Swarnim Wagle and Foreign Minister Shishir Khanal. Although investment and infrastructure was on the agenda, the main issue seems to have been about Tibetan refugees. In nearly parallel meetings with ministers, Cao Jing warned Nepal not to be too cosy with the Americans.
For Indian academic and Nepal watcher Sukh Deo Muni, all this harks back to American activity in Nepal during the height of the Cold War. He tweeted: ‘US senior diplomat Paul Kapur's statement in Kathmandu must be understood carefully in New Delhi. He said the US does not want China or any other country to dominate Nepal.’&nbsp;
‘Any other country’ could be a pointed reference to India, and what this means is that Nepal may now have to navigate even more carefully a tri-polar world order reshaped by the West Asia war.&nbsp;
Nepali journalist based in New Delhi Akanshya Shah agrees that the United States may not be seeing Nepal through the Indian lens anymore, while New Delhi does not want heightened US activity in what it considers its sphere of influence. All this is further complicated by recent frostiness in Washington-New Delhi ties.
“New Delhi doesn’t have that familiarity factor it used to with old leadership in Nepal, but it is curious about what the young Balen Shah will do and what kind of relation he will pursue with India,” she adds. “Certain decisions of the Balen government such as ending VIP culture and delivering passport at homes have hugely resonated with the Indian people, he has in some ways become a role model among the youth in India as well.”
India has invited Prime Minister Shah for an official state visit, which will be his first foreign trip as per tradition. Shah graduated in structural engineering from a college in Bengaluru, and knows India well. Shah has injected religious elements into his public exposure as prime minister and this could help project Nepal’s ‘soft power’ in dealing with India.
But he has also been a nationalist on the Limpiyadhura map dispute, and there are other thorny issues like air connectivity, river projects and power exports that need to be ironed out.&nbsp;
Sukh Deo Muni warns that the old Indian diplomatic approach based on religio-cultural stakeholders in Kathmandu may not work anymore. He wrote: ‘India's Modi government must prepare itself well to deal with new Nepalese leadership and their empowered support base, which is self-confident, highly nationalist, aspirant and impatient.’
The RSP’s 22-page National Commitment document said Nepal should abandon its historical ‘buffer state’ identity to serve as a ‘vibrant bridge’ between regional and global powers. Much of this debate is theoretical, and there is much navel-gazing that distracts from regional realpolitik.&nbsp;
“Whether we are a buffer state or a vibrant bridge, in today’s heightened geopolitical scenario we have to have good relations with good neighbours,” explains Akanshya Shah. “What is of paramount importance is that our ties are based on the aspirations of the young generation, so that they are engaged.”
Indra Adhikari goes as far as to say that the concepts of “buffer state” and “vibrant bridge” have both failed and Nepal is neither. “We have had zero roles in mediating or de-escalating the tensions between India and China to call ourselves a buffer state. As a vibrant bridge, we cannot facilitate trade of the two countries. The new government should have researched and consulted more before proposing the same outdated and failed foreign policy concepts.”&nbsp;
What will be much more important for Prime Minister Shah is to continue Nepal’s traditional policy of ‘equidistance’ and convince his interlocutors that it is not an anti-Indian stance.&nbsp;
“At a time when there is increased interest of big powers in Nepal, we need to do a bit of our own homework for the systemic reforms we want,” says Akanshya Shah. “As for India, we first need to clearly define what we want on connectivity, energy and culture. But most importantly, we have to capitalise on the goodwill of India which we haven’t been able to in the past.”
Adds Indra Adhikari: “When it comes to fundamental aspects of foreign policy that ensures and enhances the well being of our citizens, national parties should all have one unified voice that doesn’t change when the government does. Only then the future generations can own it.”

Love thy neighbours (and America)

Prime Minister Balendra Shah sought written clarification from Home Minister Sudan Gurung following news of his investment in two companies linked to controversial Nepali business figures Sulav Agrawal and Deepak Bhatt, who are currently at the centre of a Rs3.7 billion money laundering investigation.
Home Minister Gurung's secretariat said that it has responded to the PM and submitted a written explanation. This comes after Home Minister Sudan Gurung issued a public clarification about the new developments regarding his investments on Monday.&nbsp;
Gurung is listed as a founding shareholder of two micro-insurance companies Star Micro Insurance and Liberty Micro Life, having acquired shares amounting to Rs2.5 million. The two companies are said to have been issued their licence by the Nepal Insurance Authority at the behest of Bhatt and Agrawal. Family members and close aides of both Bhatt and Agrawal have stakes in the two companies.&nbsp;
Bhatt, chairman of Infinity Holdings, is a power broker accused of using his political connections to secure and manipulate public procurement contracts, influence policy changes ass well as leadership appointments to regulatory institutions including the Securities Board of Nepal and Nepal Insurance Authority.&nbsp;
Meanwhile, Shanker Group vice-chair Sulav Agrawal was also arrested earlier this month as part of a broader money laundering probe as well as an investigation into the group’s finances. Agrawal was previously arrested during the Covid-19 pandemic after he was found selling &nbsp;67 infrared thermometers from a vehicle with diplomatic credentials. At the time, Bhatt is said to have used his connections to facilitate Agrawal’s release.&nbsp;
Critics have raised concerns the lack of detailed disclosures on Gurung’s part about investments tied to the very figures that his Home Ministry is in charge of investigating. There are also questions as to the source of his investment, which Gurung said in his clarification were raised through loans.
In his clarification, Gurung denied concealing his investments, saying that his shares in the two companies are part of in his over Rs20 million portfolio included in his asset disclosure and insisting the misunderstanding is because of how the shares have been categorised. &nbsp;
On his name and portfolio being associated with controversial figures, he responded, ‘There are hundreds to thousands of shareholders in a company. Buying shares does not constitute a partnership with anyone.’&nbsp;
He continued: ‘If that is the basis, then everyone with investments in those companies must be held accountable, which is not fair. Investments in the companies include those from media houses and banks. Are they all guilty?’
Leaders within the RSP have called for internal investigation into Sudan Gurung, to maintain the party’s platform of clean governance and transparency.&nbsp;
This comes after the sacking of Labour Minister Dipak Sah earlier this month after the RSP found him to be in breach of the party code of conduct following the reappointment of his wife to the Health insurance board. Sah was not given the opportunity for clarification prior to his departure.&nbsp;
Critics have said that the party is reverting to the patronage-driven politics of previous leadership following the appointment of figures close to RSP leadership in various key positions.
Many influential business owners elected to the House with direct stakes in the business, finance, tourism, and infrastructure sectors sit in Parliamentary Committees that would directly benefit their interests. &nbsp;
On Monday, RSP appointed Bhupdev Shah, who previously was a part of Balen Shah’s secretariat during his tenure as Kathmandu Mayor, as the party’s general secretary. Some have questioned the party’s decision to appoint Shah without going through an election process in its upcoming general convention.&nbsp;
Shah’s appointment comes as there is increased public attention over members of the Prime Minister’s inner circle being appointed to key advisory positions as well as to head governance reform committees.

migration