Their names are so unpronounceable for Nepalis that Gereltungalog Erdenetsogt has the nickname ‘Ge’, and Giovanni Viradi calls himself ‘Gio’. The two world travellers have been stuck in Nepal since March because of the COVID-19 lockdown, but like it so much here that they have <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/many-foreigners-stay-put-in-nepal/" target="_blank">decided not to be repatriated on evacuation flights</a>.
Ge and Gio met last year in Laos, and were immediately drawn to each other by their passion for the martial arts. They came to Nepal on a trek, have been here ever since, teaching children karate and taekwondo.
“We considered going back, but Nepal made us feel at home and there are really good people who have been helpful,” says Ge, who is from Mongolia. Gio is from Italy and says it did not make sense going back to his country at a time when the coronavirus pandemic was at its peak.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/many-foreigners-stay-put-in-nepal/" target="_blank">Many foreigners stay put in Nepal</a>, Sonia Awale and Marty Logan
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/travellers-stuck-in-nepal-help-locals-in-need/" target="_blank">Travellers stuck in Nepal help locals in need</a>, Sonia Awale
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Despite their different cultural backgrounds, the two are united by their zeal for martial arts. Besides giving martial arts tutorials to children in an orphanage in Panauti, the two have also been regularly recording a ‘Quarantine Self-defence Series’ on the terrace of their house in Swayambhu and posting it on the Internet.
“Karate can have a social focus and can be used as a powerful took for the empowerment of women and for anti-bullying campaigns,” says Ge, who adds that the lockdown period in Nepal has given them time to train, meditate and reassess their lives.
Ge, 32, was brought up in a nomadic lifestyle in the Mongolian steppe, got tired of a sedentary career in Shanghai and quit for a backpack life. On the other side of the world, thirty four-year-old Gio also quit his job as a chef in England and also headed out into the world.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/girl-gurkhas/" target="_blank">Girl Gurkhas</a>, Monika Deupala
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Their separate trajectories brought them together in Laos last year, and they decided to explore Asia, pursue their interest in the martial arts. and are known by their Instagram handle, Karate Travellers.
“I was hooked to Bruce Lee movies when I was a kid, and did not like cartoons,” recalls Gio. “Dad even took me to a karate dojo and encouraged me to take part in tournaments.” Ge is also sporty, is experienced in taekwondo and nunchaku, and the two are a perfect fit.
The two put on their dobok karate robes every morning, set their tripod on the terrace to &nbsp;record their choreographed karate tutorials with a backdrop of the stupa on the hill, and post them online.
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Every Asian country has its own karate tradition, and the two train with locals to learn the nuances, and add to their repertoire. Gio explains: “We started to use karate as cross-cultural bridge, travelled different countries used martial arts as language to communicate with people from different cultures, and for self-improvement.”
For free-spirited travellers like Ge and Gio, the lockdown could have been like prison, but they have turned it to their advantage. Says Ge: “We decided to make lemonade out of sour lemon by keeping our minds busy and our body fit.”
With Nepal’s international flight ban set to be lifted in three weeks, the two may not have to wait much longer to go out into the world again.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-airport-gets-facelift-during-lockdown/" target="_blank">Kathmandu airport gets facelift during lockdown</a>, Raju Banskota

Monika Deupala

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Karate Travellers in Kathmandu

<h2>The first step in reducing air pollution is to let the public and governments know how bad it is</h2>		
		https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mW7YmSSnes&amp;feature=youtu.be999: that was the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jun/15/delhi-blanketed-by-smog-so-toxic-it-cant-be-measured" target="_blank" rel="noopener">reading in air pollution monitoring stations in New Delhi</a> on 15 June. Adding to the city’susual vehicular emission pollution was a sand storm blowing in from the Thar Desert (see picture below). Usually, even on bad air days, the Indian capital’s Air Quality Index (AQI) is usually less than 160 – so last weekend was literally off the charts.The dust was blown over by westerly winds into Nepal, where residents of Kathmandu saw trees, plants, parked cars and houses all covered in the muddy rain that fell for three days over the weekend.This was proof that <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/air-quality-data-to-figire-out-what-to-do,841" target="_blank" rel="noopener">trans-boundary air pollution from India</a> is a serious concern for Nepal. Fortunately the dust particles are bigger and are relatively less harmful than the more toxic smog also blanketing the north Indian plains that also gets blown over.Atmospheric scientists say more than a third of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/every-breath-you-take-air-pollution" target="_blank" rel="noopener">pollution in Nepal</a> in winter is blown in from across the border. The rest is local dust, vehicular exhaust, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/brick-factories-still-using-old-polluting-technology,2078" target="_blank" rel="noopener">soot particles from brick kilns</a> and open garbage burning in Nepal itself. Air pollution is the reason for 250 out of every 100,000 deaths in Nepal.		
		<img width="1200" height="681" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111152/6368e3749c7e80680e033383jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Data this winter showed that Nepal’s mountain cities and the Tarai had some of the worst air quality in the world – sometimes dirtier than Beijing and Delhi. On 23 April this year, the AQI for Kathmandu was nearly double that in Beijing (153) and New Delhi (167) measured at that the same time.Christa Hasenkopf, atmosphere scientist and co-founder of <a href="https://openaq.org/#/?_k=9nb7wc" target="_blank" rel="noopener">OpenAQ</a>, world’s first real time air pollution data platform, was in Nepal this week for a series of workshops on ensuring that air pollution measurements has an impact on policy formulation and decision-making by raising public awareness and sensitising government officials.Hasenkopf had previously worked in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, which also has high levels of pollution, and says making real-time pollution data available to the public can move governments to act.“Nepal has had more political will for air pollution than many places I’ve visited before,” she told Nepali Times in an interview. “By no means has the issue been solved, but what’s happening here in terms of engagement and passion for air quality and how it has evolved is phenomenal.”For the past two winters Kathmandu has been blanketed by dust raised by post- earthquake reconstruction, endless road widening and pipe-laying work for the Melamchi project. This added to vehicular pollution, smog from the Indian plains that also included heavy smoke from crop residue burning this year.Kathmandu was shrouded in a perpetual pall of dust and smoke. Hospitals reported record numbers of patients with respiratory illness including Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Diseases, bronchitis, asthma, emphysema and lung cancer.Moreover, <a href="http://www.pnas.org/content/110/32/12936.abstract" target="_blank" rel="noopener">findings from a study</a> conducted by the Energy Policy Institute at the University of Chicago last year showed that worsening air pollution is decreasing life expectancy of South Asians, and of Nepalis <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/air-pollution-decreases-life-span,3999" target="_blank" rel="noopener">by up to four years</a>.All this has provoked a public outcry, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/air-pollution-survey-kathmandu,3998" target="_blank" rel="noopener">increased awareness about health implications of poor air</a>, but the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/polluted-politics-cartels,3533" target="_blank" rel="noopener">government has been slow to act</a>. It just revoked a law banning vehicles more than 20 years old, and emission tests and green stickers can be easily bypassed. Even so, change is in the air since local governments were elected last year after 20 years.“There has been a very visible change since last year’s local elections,” noted Sara Litke, Science, Technology and Health Officer for South Asia based at the US Embassy in Kathmandu, "people in cities like Kathmandu and Pokhara are well aware about hazards of air pollution and are speaking out."While public awareness has spurred private institution and the government to monitor air quality, battling pollution requires a long-term effort along with public engagement and political will, and Nepal lags far behind on the policy front, unlike neighbouring China that is switching to electric vehicles and green energy.“Nepal has limited access to air quality data. This gap in information is a major problem when advocating for policy change,”said Hasenkopf, adding that while access to open data and its dissemination to the community through media, academic papers on public health and social networking sites can have a huge impact, the next step is to ensure clean air at the policy level.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/every-breath-you-take-air-pollution" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Every breath you take</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/air-quality-data-to-figire-out-what-to-do,841" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Figuring out what to do</a>, Arnico K Panday<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/air-pollution-decreases-life-span,3999" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Breathing is hazardous to health</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/air-pollution-survey-kathmandu,3998" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#BreatheFree</a>, Ayesha Shakya

Open air

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141140/6365167d9c7e80680e02c219jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>Photos: Lisa Choegyal</figcaption></figure>"I don’t think we get many tourists at this time of year.” The Mongolian airline official looked doubtfully at the lines of stocky Mongols lined up at the Hong Kong airport check in desks.“Mostly only foreigners coming for business. Winter in Mongolia. It is cold.” In <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19519#.Wqo9bnzBXIU">Ulaanbaatar</a> it is dark when we land but the roofs and streets are white, and pavements packed with snow and ice. In the gloom, plumes of horizontal smoke gush from tall chimneys beyond the highway– the city is heated by coal, and there is an acrid taste in the back of my throat.Actually it is almost always cold in Mongolia. “We have such a short summer -- the tourist season is only a couple of months in July and August.” says Shatra, swathed in cashmere fleece and fur as we head out of the city in the early morning dark to drive two days, yes two days, to the remote Mongolian town of Khankh, on the northern border adjoining Russia. Our task for the week is to train locals to help them improve ecotourism in the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kh%C3%B6vsg%C3%B6l_Nuur">Khuvsgul Lake National Park</a>. This settlement on the Siberian end of the lake is best accessible in winter when the lake freezes solid.Our Mongol team, in a convoy of three warm SUVs, take their equipment seriously. They do not venture outdoors without layers of high tech clothing, big jackets, hats, gloves and scarves. Soon I discover why. The unforgiving temperatures are never less than 20C below zero and one night it reached up to minus 47C. Cold enough to send shooting pain through a carelessly ungloved hand and make my track-shoed feet ache.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141140/636516809c7e80680e02c21ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>From then on I wear lined hiking boots and our leader Badral, indulging me with his impish smile, gives me some serious gloves to supplement my wool mitts. Even the vehicles wear blankets on their bonnets at night, and one diesel jeep had a brazier fire lit underneath to thaw the engine.The huge wide open spaces of Mongolia release the soul and make the heart sing. The white snowy steppe reveals intricacies of shadows and colour as the low winter sun traverses the amphitheatre of the vast blue Mongolian sky. We drive north and west for 12 hours on a good road lined with packed snowdrifts, flurries of spun silver blowing across the surface and black ice lurking in treacherous corners. A frozen veil lines the inside of the car windows.Our cavalcade stops for a snack –- boar and horsemeat -- and three well-kept mastiffs appear out of the empty landscape to politely beg for titbits. In the monochromatic landscape, a man in a crimson deel and turquoise sash pushes his car back from the ditch into which it had skidded. A flock of sheep pick their way through the snow, herded by a boy huddled on his brown pony. Herds of horses with shaggy winter coats fend for themselves, pawing at the unpromising ground to find something to eat.The short days are framed with an insipid dawn and a lingering rosy sunset that sucks all colour from the countryside. As we pull into Murun with headlights blazing for the overnight stop, a sliver of new moon rises above the harsh black outline of the hills.The swirling steam, bulky silhouettes and tooth-aching cold remind me of my winter journey the long way home from Nepal in 1974. By rail through Siberia, only 20 km  north of Khankh, testing my personal limits by travelling defiantly alone on boats and trains -- from Japan to Scotland.Next morning we offer prayers to the lake with sprays of vodka, then gingerly drive onto the frozen, glittering surface. Badral explains: “It’s early in the year and the lake is only just driveable – the ice is only 50cm deep now, but next month it will be one meter thick and safer to drive.” This is a massive body of water measuring 135 by 45 km, and in places is 240 m deep. Mongolia’s sacred ‘Mother of Oceans’ contains two thirds of the nation’s fresh water and is linked by a meandering river to Lake Baikal.As we venture away from the shore, the texture of the lake ice keeps changing. We ride the smooth black, fractured white with cracks, sometimes frozen ripples as though a wind has suspended the ruffled surface, and then clouded waves like circular lily pads. We slide to a halt and get down to dance on the ice, pausing at a shaman shrine amidst pine trees on the lake’s largest island.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141140/636516849c7e80680e02c21bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="404"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Snow is blown into icy ridges and glittering blocks where the great sheets of ice have melted then collided and overlapped, crashing into uneven joined gullies of anxiety for the drivers. Long cracks have formed into a frozen furrow, sometimes several metres wide. These cause the most concern and have to be inspected before our cautious convoy dare proceed -- some are still soft but narrow enough for us to splash across. The trusty Toyotas forge through in a fog of steamy confidence, but other fissures require long detours. 13 13 Toktor, our stolid and highly skilled driver, has stopped singing Mongolian songs, his broad brow creased into a frown. Most alarming are the gunshot booms as the ice expands, cracks, and ricochets in the unusual cold. The thermometer on the dashboard reads minus 29C and it is midday. Toktor adjusts his brown fur hat and radios to his colleague in the car behind. “I’m so frightened I can hardly speak,” comes the reply. Toktor sighs when we reach the end of the lake. “Landed!” He grins, his big face wrinkles with relief.The Khankh lodge door opens in a dramatic swirl of vapour, like a pantomime entrance of dry ice as the frozen air condenses in the warmth, frost crystallises inside the door frame, and big boots clump inside. It was late that evening, nursing milk tea by the stove with flame patterns flickering on the cabin’s wood ceiling, that Shatra tells me the real story. A pony whinnies outside.“The drivers were unusually nervous because last night the Khankh school van ended up at the bottom of Lake Khuvsgul. In the reckless dark, the driver hit an unseen crack. There was plenty of time for him and the ten teachers to get out unharmed, but now the school has no transport.”Read Also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/bardiya-beginnings-Lisa-Choegyal,1085">Bardiya beginnings</a>, Lisa Choegyal<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/the-hippie-era-in-kathmandu,837">The unsuccessful hippie</a>, Lisa Choegyal

Lisa Choegyal

Wintering in Mongolia

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

Early on Monday morning, a bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu plunged off the highway in Dhading killing 19 passengers. Two weeks ago, another bus fell into the Tama Kosi in Manthali, killing 12. A few days before that a bus crash in Baitadi killed 13 people.&nbsp; In just the month before Nepal's election, more than 50 people have been killed in road traffic accidents. Most of these cannot be called 'accidents'. They are a direct result of poorly maintained highways and lack of enforcement of traffic discipline. Political parties in Nepal have rolled out their election manifestos, and voters are once again presented with a flood of promises. Page after page, these documents list megawatts and microcredit, highways and airports, jobs and investment. In these manifestos, growth is quantified, projects itemised, revenue forecast — and there are even threats to beat up contractors who do not finish their jobs. But when everything is declared a priority the stale promises are empty. The voter is left confused as to where the party’s loyalties really lie. Will any of these plans and pledges actually ever materialise and help Nepalis live longer, safer, healthier lives? The main job of any accountable government is to protect its citizens, not so much from foreign enemies but from domestic mismanagement. And this means the most basic test the new government should be made to pass is whether it can ensure basic well-being and protection for all its people. The problems of safety, health, and survival remain unresolved for most Nepalis, and are quietly eroding their lives. In the past year alone, the country’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">roads and highways claimed more than 2,300</a> lives. An estimated 41,000 Nepalis die each year directly because of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous">air pollution</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/air-pollution-killing-season-starts-early">lifespans are lessened by 3.4 years</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health">Non-communicable diseases</a> now account for well over half of total deaths in the country. And even where survival has improved, deprivation remains. Chronic malnutrition continues to haunt communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mass-migration-from-muktikot">Nepal’s western mountains</a> despite progress in maternal and child health.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  These are the lived realities of most Nepalis, and it is here that development can deliver its most immediate returns. A rising GDP, in and of itself, does not make roads safer, clean polluted air, or provide enough nutrition to children. Such outcomes demand intentional, granular policies that confront the specific, everyday problems shaping people’s lives.&nbsp; Macroeconomic growth, trade and investment are important, but these alone cannot guarantee improvements health and safety. The word ‘growth’, after all, is also synonymous with malignancy. Economic progress and human protection are correlated only when governance deliberately links them. Impact on life is the unit in which ordinary Nepalis calculate progress. What is needed, then, is a governing philosophy measurable in these same terms: a ‘life-first’ standard where every policy, budget, and reform can be understood and judged by its impact on protecting and extending human life. Such a ‘life-first’ approach would scrutinise three aspects of every policy. First, whether the policy prevents loss of life. A death is termed preventable if better, more coordinated response systems and regulations could have avoided it (vaccines, drugs, road safety, clean drinking water). A newly built six-lane highway <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/highway-accidents-are-no-accident-in-nepal">can be a death trap</a> due to poor design or lax enforcement of safety rules. If neonatal deaths continue in a district despite hospitals being present, or if malnutrition claims lives in predominantly agricultural regions, they too are failures. Preventable deaths also cluster where accountability is less direct. Just last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicides-a-pandemic-within-a-pandemic">Nepal recorded 6,866 suicides</a>, with nearly 20 lives lost every day, yet these deaths fail to prompt any serious examination of governance. The same holds for fatalities linked to domestic or communal violence, alcohol and substance misuse, or ‘natural’ disasters, which register as ‘tragedies without remedy’ rather than as outcomes policy can influence. But when avoidable loss of life recurs at scale, isolated incidents become patterns, and patterns reveal systemic neglect. Saving lives, however, is only the first step, and what matters just as much is the quality of years lived. Nepal’s life expectancy now stands at 71 years, yet many citizens spend years in avoidable disability, untreated chronic illness, or mental distress. A life- first government must ask not only whether people live, but whether they thrive. Are citizens able to pursue education, work, and family life without fear of preventable harm? Do communities have access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and basic healthcare? Can a teenager anywhere in Nepal imagine a future not foreclosed by premature marriage, or untreated depression?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940" data-rendition-name="original" width="2529" height="1427" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  Thriving requires policies that prevent suffering and promote well-being in addition to ensuring survival.&nbsp; Finally, governance must consider graceful aging. Elderly Nepalis should not be left to navigate disease, poverty, or isolation alone. Social systems, healthcare, and community support must enable their continued participation and dignified well-being. Adopting this three-layered standard would gradually reorient how success of any new government is defined. Transportation would be judged by fatalities reduced on the roads. Electricity generation would be measured by whether households can switch from firewood dependence to smoke-free electric stoves.&nbsp; Increase in annual rice harvest must translate into better nutrition, reducing the prevalence of chronic diseases like diabetes. Accountability must follow problems rather than stop at Singha Darbar. Only then will politicians and bureaucrats eventually recognise that their work converges on the same human endpoint. Critics will argue that economies are complex, trade-offs are inevitable, and that governance cannot be reduced to a single metric.But, as Acemoglu and Robinson show in their book <a href="https://ia801506.us.archive.org/27/items/WhyNationsFailTheOriginsODaronAcemoglu/Why-Nations-Fail_-The-Origins-o-Daron-Acemoglu.pdf">Why Nations Fail</a>, the key difference between prosperity and poverty lies in inclusive institutions that empower citizens and create broad incentives for well-being.&nbsp; Extractive institutions concentrate power and wealth in the hands of a few while keeping the majority trapped in neglect. Nepal’s governance has remained a striking example of extraction. If lawmakers in the new Parliament continue to resist changes that would save and improve the lives of ordinary citizens, the same systemic rot will persist for generations to come. A life-first mentality can cut through this inertia by clarifying the moral centre of governance and reminding policymakers that behind every policy failure lies human cost. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-hunger">Every mother in Bajura</a> with a child going hungry at night, every farmer in the Madhes unable to afford medical care, and every family that has lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">a migrant son to kidney failure</a> understands the true <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating">value of a life saved</a>. Life is the one metric that transcends ideology, ethnicity, and region. Centering governance on this single, focused metric, can shift an election from a contest of rhetoric to a contest of evidence. Which party ensured access to safe water and basic healthcare? Which made work at home and abroad safer and less exploitative. Which measurably extended healthy years of life for ordinary citizens? Health is wealth. By improving the healthy lifespan of citizens economic prosperity would follow naturally. A ‘life-first’ governance model would therefore compel Nepal to address the underlying structural failures across all sectors, rather than merely alleviating their symptoms. The GenZ protest that toppled the government last September was, at its core, a demand for accountability and a rejection of politics as usual. But as the country edges closer to the polls, that clarity has started to dissipate. Parties are now echoing the language of reform, but the public discourse remains dominated by promises that feel disconnected from Nepal’s most immediate and basic priorities. Every preventable death, every hungry child, and every neglected elder becomes a direct failure of governance and a moral debt the state must answer for. It is how we can make sure we keep the next government in check. The writers are Nepali GenZ students of biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Nepal’s life or death election

Party flags and banners wave from electric poles, houses and e-rickshaws are festooned with posters. Madhes Province is in the grip of election fever, and in a tour through four of its districts, there is the sense that any efforts by mainstream political parties at reforms have come too little too late. Among the banners, the sky blue of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/new-vs-new-in-nepal"> RSP is more prominent </a>here this time, and the rallying cry across the country for new and improved leadership is echoed on the ground. “For the people around here, whatever these old leaders are saying has become just noise,” says a lassi shop operator in Janakpur, waving a dismissive hand at flags with the NC’s tree symbol across the street. In Janakpur, UML nominee Raghubir Mahaseth was barred from canvassing door-to-door. Campaign posters of the mainstream parties have been torn from walls and replaced with RSP posters.&nbsp; In Inarwari village of Rautahat in the Madhes heartland, local elected officials whose parties have been merged into the Nepali Communist Party hope to retain enough supporters this election. But not many residents say they would vote for its candidate. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SHRISTI KARKI</figcaption> </figure>  A first-time voter in Sarlahi’s Haripur is home on a semester break from medical school in Kathmandu, and is waiting excitedly for 5 March. “You can’t really say out loud whom you’re voting for around here,” he says, as he mimes ringing a bell. “It is time for someone new to be in-charge." In the highway town of Bardibas, an elderly teashop owner says that all she hears are calls for घण्टी, the RSP’s bell symbol. “After all, bells are rung in the house of gods,” she says. “It seems like the right choice.” The RSP wave sweeping the nation after the GenZ movement is seen in Madhes, and the PR ballots might reflect that, notes political analyst Tula Narayan Shah.&nbsp; “But the socio-cultural networks, organisational setup, and legacy of democratic movement of traditional parties might still give them a fighting chance on the first past the post ballot,” he says. &nbsp;“The door-to-door campaign style of candidates has always been more prominent in Madhes than elsewhere.”&nbsp; Villages like Dhankaul in Sarlahi-4 where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grand-split-in-nepal-s-grand-old-party">Gagan Thapa</a> of the Nepali Congress (NC) is running against incumbent Amresh Singh, is an NC stronghold. Singh won the election here twice before in 2013 and 2017 when he was an NC leader, and still had goodwill among NC voters when he ran and won as an independent during the 2022 election. “I voted for him twice before when he was in the NC, but he did not do anything for this or other villages. Once he is elected, he has not set foot here,” says Rajiv Yadav, a voter in Dhanakul. “The RSP will get more votes here than last time, but Gagan is sure to win. This village will vote for him.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  Madhes is in the spotlight this election because two prime ministerial candidates have focused their attention in the region. Balen Shah began his campaign in Janakpur (main picture, left) in January as a ‘Son of Madhes’, and Gagan Thapa chose Sarlahi-4 as his constituency over Kathmandu-4, from where he has been elected since 2013.&nbsp; The Madhes has always been the battleground for Nepal’s electoral politics, and candidates from here, like Krishna Prasad Bhattarai from Parsa, Pushpa Kamal Dahal from Siraha, Jhala Nath Khanal from Sarlahi, and Madhav Kumar Nepal from Rautahat, have all been prime ministers. Despite electing politicians to high office in Kathmandu, districts of Madhes have consistently ranked low in development and service delivery indicators, especially in basic healthcare and education. Socio-economic inequalities stemming from a lack of opportunities has also meant that Madhes districts have the highest rate of out-migration in the country.&nbsp; What is different this time is that the people of the province have a Madhesi prime ministerial candidate who will represent them in national politics, and the main competition ultimately will be between the NC and RSP prime ministerial candidates. Interestingly, voters seem to be looking beyond Madhes-based parties who have historically campaigned on identity and federalism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  “Leaders of Madhes parties have glorified their struggle for votes but failed to perform on good governance at local and provincial levels,” explains Tula Narayan Shah. “Now, Balen has become a PM candidate as a face of the region, and as someone who will deliver based on his work as Kathmandu mayor.” If the RSP wins, it will be governing in the absence of provincial leadership that would play a crucial mediatory role between Kathmandu and local units. On Wednesday, RSP’s Madhes province chair Mamta Sharma resigned from the party and joined the NC. There is also some underlying tension between RSP cadre loyal to Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane. “It is not prudent to predict who will win the election and whether parties will deliver on promises,” says Tula Narayan Shah. “But win or lose, there is little basis at this time to believe that the RSP will be committed to making the federal system and provinces more functional.” Voters here in the heart of the federalism movement, however, are willing to give the RSP the benefit of the doubt. &nbsp;Resident Brahma Dev in Janakpur told us: &nbsp;“The RSP, like parties that came before them, deserve a chance to prove their leadership in the next five years. If they do not deliver, we can always vote them out next time.”&nbsp; On Wednesday, NC leaders unveiled the party’s 10-point election manifesto at a large rally in Janakpur (main picture, right). Gagan Thapa began by addressing a cheering crowd in Maithili, and said the NC was reformed, adding:&nbsp; “The GenZ did not reject us, they told us to change our ways.” Also on Wednesday 800km away at the other end of the country in Dhangadi, Balen Shah, in a speech that lasted just three minutes, he said: “Don’t vote for us, give us work to do.”&nbsp;

Battleground Tarai

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. Growing up, my parents encouraged me to prioritise studies. As the youngest, I always had an inner desire to be independent. My job at a travel agency in Kathmandu did not inspire me much. I wanted to strike off on my own but did not have money, and was reluctant to ask my parents because then they might have wanted to marry me off. So without telling them, I started Korean language lessons. What I had read and heard about Korea appealed to me because it was safe for women, they were treated respectfully and protected by strong laws. I wanted to temporarily migrate with the sole purpose of raising enough capital to start my own business one day. I made my passport without telling my parents. It was a hassle because they needed the consent of guardians since girls were at risk of being trafficked. I convinced them I was able to stand up for myself. I passed the Korean exam, and only then told my parents. I was in the first cohort under the Korea G2G Employment Permit System (EPS). The work there was not difficult: I trimmed, cleaned, sorted imported flower bulbs. My monthly earnings were Rs60,000 with overtime. I got engaged to my friend with 200 guests in attendance at a Lama ceremony. We had gone as friends but realised there that we were meant for each other. Later, when we returned to Nepal, we got married in a traditional ceremony.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_00a1e9f6b4c70756d1c8737e4c294cb2d3a9b73e0cd26bc9b84bc61d18644cb7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260219130232_00a1e9f6b4c70756d1c8737e4c294cb2d3a9b73e0cd26bc9b84bc61d18644cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  I stayed on in Nepal after my wedding while my husband re-migrated. We have two children, and when the younger one turned two, I was ready to go back to work. This time, as an entrepreneur. I bought the rights to an outlet of the Burger House and Crunchy Fried Chicken franchise which was neither too posh nor too shabby, reasonably priced, hygienic and with a cosy ambience. The outlet did well, and the lessons I picked up in Korea helped -- it taught me to value every second and be disciplined. I now transfer these lessons to my trainees. As a café entrepreneur no work is too small. I clean, wash dishes, make coffee, train, and run the cash register. I do it all. I have learnt the value of work. I was once contacted by the Korean Embassy. They wanted to understand what returnees in Nepal are up to. They put our stories in a book. The K-Hami project team encouraged me to share my story and inspire other Korea returnees, especially women. We created the DidiBahini network for women returnees, which we have recently registered as Sangi Nepal. There is a shared journey that binds us returnees. We know the struggle overseas. We value hard-earned money that comes with immense sacrifices, and we have learnt that hard work and dedication pays. As a restaurant entrepreneur, I often get calls from youth asking for jobs. They are under 25 and are struggling to juggle work and study. They need skills and jobs, so I started a hospitality training centre to help young people develop job ready skills. I did not think that I would get into politics, even though my grandfather was once a minister. As an entrepreneur, I can be everything the situation demands: barista, cashier, trainer, cleaner, dishwasher. And that is what politicians should also be. It is about more than power, it is a service. You have to experience hunger to solve hunger, empathise with people and their struggles. I had never seen myself as a politician, but I know that I understand people. When someone is hurting, it hurts me. People had started noticing, and I was invited to join various political parties.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_d989fc863fa8391c19abe88b153d54da3c1a4a51de3ccb7716230756e1c5a17e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260219130232_d989fc863fa8391c19abe88b153d54da3c1a4a51de3ccb7716230756e1c5a17e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  INTO POLITICS In my neighbour’s house, for example, there was no water and sewage was a problem. The prolonged inaction bothered me so I lobbied to get it fixed. This made me understand how far we can go if we serve selflessly. If we have a voice, we need to use it. Even then I did not think I would join politics, at least not directly and not for another ten years. During past elections, I used to educate people about good candidates and to think beyond parties. When I had heard that Kulman Ghising was starting a party, I trusted that he could contribute a lot based on his delivery experience. I just wanted to volunteer for his party, but ended up joining it. I realised women do not want to enter the fray, and are satisfied with proportional representation seats. Women should not hold back, or be held back. We should fight, share our vision and take action. We need to be in decision-making roles too. I wanted to see more women in Parliament. I wanted to fight direct elections and was appointed to run in Kathmandu-7. I felt proud. We don’t need to make lofty promises. Politicians do not care about the grassroots. They are stuck to their chairs. I do not have an unrealistic vision but want to help people in tangible ways. For hungry people, food is a priority. For the uneducated, it is education. For the sick, even one medicine tablet can go a long way. Health, education and jobs are my focus. I want to promote youth self-employment and decent jobs, just as I did as an entrepreneur. Being elected to power is not enough, you have to perform and deliver. Even in Kathmandu, there is poverty and hunger. It is hard to believe that some of these places exist in the capital — hard to reach places with no basic services. This hurt as well as inspired me.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_6723e3ff9b4c195c4ed13693b0d4a1066f37462e14fbdb22026c26ce10710072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260219130232_6723e3ff9b4c195c4ed13693b0d4a1066f37462e14fbdb22026c26ce10710072" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  If I am elected to Parliament, I will serve selflessly. As a returnee with a voice and the possibility to make policies and laws, I want to encourage people overseas to come back with whatever savings and learning they have and contribute to the country. It may not be easy, but it will be worth it. I myself may not have faced challenges overseas, but there are many who do not have a positive experience abroad, I will raise their concerns. I will also continue to encourage other women to do more. As a businesswoman, a politician and a mother I will erase any doubts they have about their capabilities. I will continue to be that source of courage. In Kathmandu-7, there are 29 candidates, I am the only female. While campaigning, people often ask me if I have money. When I say I don’t, they ask how I expect to fight an election. Through my idealism, I tell them. People also ask me if I am a proportional representation candidate. That is the first impression voters have of women candidates. When I tell them I am contesting directly, many are surprised. There are challenges but I like challenges. I like a fight. There will be winners and losers, that is part of the game. All I want to do is inspire fellow women and youth. My husband has whole-heartedly supported my business and political journey. My children are curious what will happen if I win. Even before I stood as a candidate, they knew their mother was a fearless leader. They now recognise the green Ujyalo Nepal Party banners. Looking at my children makes me even more committed to shape the future of the next generations of Nepalis. This is what got me into politics in the first place: to serve.